The Distant Whispers
The ink on the contract is still wet when you sign it, the black lines bleeding slightly into the heavy bond paper, a small, dark stain that looks uncomfortably like a bruise. You are Elias Thorne, thirty-four, a structural engineer who measures the world in load-bearing capacities and safety factors, and you need this final payment for the restoration of the Blackwood Asylum more than you need...
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