The Faded Masquerade
The banquet hall of the Grand Meridian Hotel was a cathedral of excess, choked with the scent of roasted pheasant and expensive perfume. You stood near the service entrance, your fingers stained with the black grease of the maintenance tunnels, while the guests above you danced under chandeliers that cost more than your lifetime earnings. You are not what you appear to be. You are the city’s...
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