The Pale Tower
Chapter One Văn Hai was already scraping the mud from his boots when the Director’s heel came down. The sound was a dull, wet crack, like a knuckle breaking in a quiet room. Trần stood over the crushed orchid, his face impassive, the light of the short winter days cutting through the high windows of the archive to illuminate the dust motes dancing in the air. Hai felt the cold seep through his...
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