The Distant Affair
The ink is wet, Elias. It is always wet in this room, no matter how long you wait for it to dry. You stand before the desk of Director Vane, your hands trembling not from fear, but from the sheer, cold weight of the paper in your grip. You have been an archivist for four years, a duration that feels both like a lifetime and a blink, depending on which filing cabinet you are opening. Your...
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