The Faded Guest
Act I The canal water sat low and brown, holding the reflection of the factory smokestacks that lined the riverbank like a row of exhausted sentinels. In the settlement of Bến Tre, the air was heavy with wet concrete and diesel, a physical weight that pressed against the chest with every breath. I was Thị Nam, a garrison guard on the Southern Gate, and I had twenty-four hours to secure the...
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