The Wistful Dinner
The night watchman Hiroshi Kondo had three days until his father’s release, a deadline measured not in hours but in the slow, creeping weight of the debt that bound the old man to the Guild’s stone prison. The town of Oakhaven sat in the deep snow of the Tohoku mountains, a place where the wind did not howl but whispered, carrying the scent of liniment and the sharp, metallic tang of the powder...
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