The Tailor of Flesh

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2026-06-04 01:25:53 -

(Dirty Realism Style) Morris lived in a room that smelled of formaldehyde and old cigarettes. He called himself a 'Genetic Tailor.' In the gray, rain-slicked streets of the Industrial District, he was the man you went to if you wanted to look like something you weren't. A richer chin for a failing politician, a younger glow for a dying socialite. He didn't care about the ethics; he cared about...

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