Sample V-01: The Velvet Fog
The fog of London in 1888 did not just cling to the cobblestones; it seeped into the very marrow of one's bones, a grey shroud that erased the boundaries between the living and the dead. Julian, a poet whose verses were as fragmented as his spirit, stumbled through the East End, the scent of cheap gin a familiar, suffocating veil. He was a man of ghosts long before he met a real one, haunted by...
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