The Faded Masquerade

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2026-08-19 08:07:33 -

The train hissed into the station of Ashworth, a long, metallic exhalation that seemed to drain the very air from the platform, leaving behind a smell of wet coal, rust, and the cold, metallic tang of the industrial age. I stepped off the carriage, my boots clicking against the slate, a sharp, rhythmic sound that felt too loud in the sudden silence. I was not here as a tourist, nor as a man...

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