The Golden Farce
You wake with the taste of iron and coal dust on your tongue, the heavy, metallic tang of a world that has already decided your fate before you open your eyes. The air in the room is thick, not with smoke, but with the stagnant breath of old wood and the faint, sweet rot of lilies that have been left too long in a vase. You are in the study of your father’s estate, a place you have not set foot...
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