The Pale Echo
The train hissed to a halt in the grey rain, the sound sharp and sudden against the damp silence of the platform. You stepped out, your boots sinking slightly into the slush, and pulled your coat tighter. The city smelled of wet concrete and ozone, a sterile scent that clung to the back of your throat. You were not here for the air. You were here for the ledger. You walked with a purpose that...
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