The Golden Suspect
The rain falls on the courtyard of St. Jude’s Asylum with the heavy, rhythmic persistence of a metronome counting out the seconds of your remaining life, and you stand beneath the eaves of the main entrance, clutching a letter that smells of sulfur and old paper, its ink shimmering with a wet, iridescent sheen that betrays its forged nature. You are Elias Thorne, forty years old, an archivist...
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