The Faded Sutra
The name was called out not in anger, but in the flat, procedural tone of a man reading a ledger, and it struck Elias Thorne with the force of a physical blow. "Thorne, your report is unacceptable." The Director, Mr. Vane, stood at the head of the long oak table, his fingers drumming a rhythm against a stack of carbon copies. Elias sat in the chair opposite, his hands resting on the polished...
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