The Dream of West Lake

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2026-06-02 04:57:55 -

The fog rolled in off the Thames like a shroud, swallowing London whole. Arthur Windsor stood on the bridge at Westminster, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his overcoat, watching the river's black surface reflect nothing but grey and shadow. It had been three years since he returned from India, and in those three years he had learned that some dreams are not meant to be lived, only...

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