The Price of Genius (V-01)
The fog of London did not merely cling to the cobblestones; it seeped into the very marrow of the soul. For Arthur, a scrivener of no particular distinction in the rotting heart of the East End, the world had always been a smudge of grey and charcoal. His life was a repetitive loop of ink-stained fingers and the rhythmic scratching of a quill, a symphony of mediocrity played out in a room that...
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