The Archivist's Debt (V-02)
The roar of the 1920s was a deafening symphony of champagne and desperation. I was a cog in that machine, a junior accountant at a firm that specialized in making the fortunes of the corrupt look like the accidents of fate. My life was a ledger of grey lines and ink stains, a predictable sequence of numbers that added up to nothing. Then I met Silas. He operated out of a basement in Greenwich...
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