The Faded Ruin
The letter lay on the velvet tablecloth, its ink still wet and dark as a bruise, detailing the final installment of my debt to the city’s structural maintenance fund. I read it twice, the paper trembling slightly in my cold fingers, before I slid it into the inner pocket of my waistcoat, a gesture that felt less like filing a document and more like swallowing a stone. The air in the Grand Hall...
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