The Wistful Incense
The rotting lilies were already there when Elias Thorne stepped into the Health Bureau, a sweet, cloying stench that clung to the back of his throat like a bad taste. He adjusted the leather satchel at his hip, feeling the weight of the glass vials inside, and approached the mahogany desk where Director Halloway sat with the stillness of a predator. "You are here to submit the final formulation...
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