The Faded Masquerade
The ledger book in your hands is heavy, its leather cover slick with the condensation of a cellar that has not seen the sun in a century, and the weight of it presses against your palms like a physical accusation, a debt that has accrued interest over forty years of service to the Ministry of Unseen Debits. You are Elias Thorne, and you are here to close the books of the Hollow Court before the...
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