Sample V-01: The Gilded Mourning
The fog of London in 1888 did not just swallow the streets; it swallowed souls. Julian woke up in a damp cellar in Whitechapel with a mind as blank as a fresh shroud. He knew nothing of his name or his past, only that his hands moved with a precision that terrified him. When a thug tried to shake him down for a few shillings, Julian had dismantled the man's wrist and throat in three seconds, a...
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