The Pale Verdict
The ledger was bound in black leather, its spine cracked and weeping a faint, sour scent of old ink and damp paper. It sat on the desk of Mr. Halloway, the Chief Auditor of the Vane & Sons Textile Mill, a slab of bureaucratic authority that smelled of the coal dust permeating every wall of the building. I held the pen, my hand steady, but my eyes were fixed on the brass-framed mirror on the far...
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