The Faded Frequency
The banquet hall of the Grand Meridian Hotel smelled of stale rose water and expensive rot. You sat at the head of the long oak table, your uniform pressed to a razor’s edge, the brass buttons catching the light of the chandeliers like cold eyes. Around you, the city’s elite murmured in low, oily voices, their laughter a thin veneer over the hunger that gnawed at your gut. You were a man of the...
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