The Distant Clue
You stand in the antechamber of the High Court, where the air is thick with the scent of beeswax and old paper. The light here is not natural; it is a pale, sterile glow that filters through the high windows, illuminating the dust motes that dance in the stagnant air like suspended time. You are not a person, not in the way the judges and the clerks are people. You are an anomaly, a glitch in...
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