The Faded Bouquet
The hall is thick with the scent of damp wool and rotting lilies, a heavy, suffocating perfume that clings to the back of your throat and settles in the hollows of your bones. You are seated at the high table, surrounded by the silent, judging faces of the university’s inner circle, men in velvet robes who look at you not with respect, but with the cold, clinical curiosity of a surgeon...
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