The Wistful Throne
The paper was thin, cheap stock, the kind used for grocery lists or eviction notices. It smelled of stale tobacco and the linoleum floor beneath Vane’s desk. Elias held it with one hand, his knuckles white, while the other rested on his knee, trembling slightly from the cold. The document was a confession. It stated that Elias, as the site engineer, had ignored the load-bearing calculations for...
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