The Golden Scar
The file was not what I expected, Director Vane said, his voice flat and dry as the recycled air in the archive, sliding the manila folder across the steel desk with a friction that sounded like a bone snapping. I did not touch it immediately, because my hands were occupied with the ledger, a thick, leather-bound volume that smelled of dust and formaldehyde, and I was trying to remember if...
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