The Wistful Incense
The air in the Great Hall of the Imperial Customs House was thick with the scent of stale tobacco and the heavy, gilded dust of power, a suffocating atmosphere that seemed to press against the lungs of every man who dared enter. Inspector Elias Thorne stood before the desk of the newly appointed Director, Julian Vane, a young aristocrat whose smile was as thin and cold as the silver cutlery...
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