The Wistful Asylum
The banquet hall is a cavern of mirrored surfaces and chandeliers that drip cold, artificial starlight. You are seated at the long table, your white gloves trembling slightly as you pick up a fork. The air smells of truffle, expensive wine, and the faint, metallic tang of ozone that clings to the back of your throat. Around you, the other guests chatter, their voices a low hum that feels...
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