The Wistful Dinner

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2026-08-17 18:26:09 -

The air in the Grand Ballroom of the Ashworth Estate did not merely smell of stale champagne and decayed orchids, but of a specific, cloying sweetness that clung to the back of the throat like the residue of a forgotten sin, a scent that Edmund Hartley had learned to associate with the slow, inevitable erosion of his own flesh, which was currently trembling with a rigor that had nothing to do...

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