The Golden Song
Sakura Nakagawa’s hands were already shaking when she gripped the tarnished brass compass, the needle spinning so violently against the glass that it blurred into a ghostly halo of motion, a frantic, mechanical scream trapped inside the pocket of her school uniform. The apartment at one hundred and twenty-six of NineElm Crossing was cramped, the air heavy with boiled cabbage and the stale,...
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