The Distant Machine
Chapter One Why do we keep what is meant to rot? Sakura Ogawa sat in the small, windowless room at the back of the Imperial Textile Registry, the air heavy with stale paper and cold dampness. She held a pot of black ink in one hand and a brush in the other, the bristles stiff and dry. Before her lay the Silent Loom ledger, a heavy book bound in cracked leather, its spine swollen with decades of...
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