The Faded Sutra

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2026-08-20 06:04:37 -

The Faded Sutra

The banquet hall smelled of roasted goose, stale wine, and the damp wool of a hundred cloaks, a scent that seemed to seep into the very bones of the stone walls and settle there like a permanent stain. You stood at the edge of the room, your hands tucked into the sleeves of a dress that had once been white but was now the color of old ash, watching the men of the textile mill laugh with a joy...

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