The Anatomy of Sorrow
The gaslights of Victorian London flickered in the damp autumn air, casting long, skeletal shadows across the cobblestones of Spitalfields. Inside the attic studio of Dr. Julian Vane, the air was thick with the cloying scent of formaldehyde and lilies. Julian was not merely a surgeon; he was a seeker of the "Luminous Geometry." He believed that the human soul was not a metaphysical abstraction,...
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