The Golden Downtown
The ledger lay open on the desk, the ink still wet and glistening under the harsh gaslight, a black river of numbers that had not yet dried. You counted the hours of the shift, six in total, but the weight of the paper felt heavier than the wood of the chair beneath you. The rejection letter from the Guild sat atop the ledger, the red wax seal unbroken, the stamp of the Magistrate’s office cold...
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