The Pale Fracture
The transfer request, Mr. Halloway said, was a matter of administrative hygiene, not personal desire. He did not look up from the ledger, his pen scratching a rhythmic, dry sound against the paper, a sound that seemed to absorb the light in the small, windowless office of the Ministry of Nutritional Compliance. Arthur Vane stood by the door, his hands clasped behind his back, feeling the weight...
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