The Distant Legend
Act I Everything in this office has a price, even the silence, and I have paid for mine in hours that stretch thin as old rubber. I am Ren Fujiwara, thirty-four years old, and I have spent the last decade cleaning dust from the past so that the present might keep its accounts balanced. The air here is thick, not with humidity, but with the weight of paper that refuses to decay. We sit in a...
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