The Pale Mist
Could a man really erase his own name? Yiannis Stefanou stood in the center of the faculty hall, the dust motes swirling in the dry, cold light that preserved every flaw in the plaster, and he felt the question not as a thought but as a physical weight settling into his marrow. He was forty-five years old, a philologist who had spent two decades decoding the dialects of the Aegean, yet here he...
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