The Golden Scar
The steam from the boiler room seeps through the floorboards of the inspection office, a wet, metallic ghost that clings to the soles of your boots. You are standing in the center of the room, the air thick with the smell of ozone and old paper, while the Head Inspector, a man named Mr. Vance whose face is a topography of deep, weary lines, stares at you with eyes that have seen too many broken...
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