The Pale Bonsai

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2026-08-22 11:51:36 -

The Pale Bonsai

The crystal chandeliers of the Whitmore Hall hang like frozen storms of light, refracting the claret wine in the glasses of the faculty into a thousand red shards. You stand at the center of the table, your fingers white-knuckled around a small, ceramic pot that feels heavy with the weight of five years of secret labor. The air is thick with the smell of roasted pheasant and the suffocating...

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