TITLE: The Gentleman's Final Equation
Walking through Covent Garden, he felt the visceral thrill of the unseen, a god-like detachment from the mundane struggles of the working class. The lingering scent of ozone and old parchment filled the air, reminding him of the countless hours spent chasing the ghost of a formula. He chose the silence. He chose the sleep that requires no antidote. The lingering scent of ozone and old...
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