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Aluna runs a small coffee shop on rainy Kenanga Street and is closing up one night when a pale man in an old-fashioned coat walks in at exactly 11:07 p.m. He calls himself Raka, pays with strange silver coins, has never seen a phone, and casts a shadow that moves a moment after he does. As he keeps returning to Table Seven with a book no one may touch, Aluna's curiosity about who, or what, he really is starts turning into something far more troublesome.
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