The Distant Metropolis

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2026-08-20 02:22:00 -

The iron taste of blood sits upon your tongue, a metallic coin that will not dissolve, while the fog rolls off the black waters of the harbor and settles into the creases of your uniform like a damp, clinging sheet. You are not standing in a field of wheat or a trench of mud, but you are standing in the center of the Grand Ballroom of the Ministry, where the chandeliers hang like frozen stars,...

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