The White Manor of Fog
The fog of London did not merely drift; it possessed the city, swallowing the gaslights and the cobblestones in a grey, suffocating embrace. For Arthur, a researcher of forgotten manuscripts at the British Museum, the fog was a mirror of his own existence—dense, obscuring, and profoundly lonely. But every night, as the clock struck twelve, Arthur escaped. He did not travel in body, but in...
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