The Distant Journey

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2026-08-22 00:59:29 -

The brass buttons on my tunic were cold against the palm of my hand, a small, hard truth in the vast, humming silence of the antechamber. I sat on the edge of the velvet settee, my posture rigid as a rifle stock, while the air around us thickened with the scent of ozone and crushed lavender. It was a scent that had no business existing in the Ministry of Internal Order, a place of steel desks...

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