The Golden Downtown
The rain in the capital did not fall so much as it hung, a suspended gray curtain that blurred the edges of the cobblestones and softened the brutalist geometry of the Ministry. Elias Thorne walked through it, his coat heavy with moisture, his steps measured and precise, a metronome ticking against the wet pavement. He was a man who had spent the last decade in the antechambers of power, not as...
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