The Faded Sutra
The ink on the sutra page moved like a living thing, crawling from the margin toward the center as Seo-yeon Kang watched, her breath held tight in her chest. She was thirty-four years old, an archivist in the Ministry of Cultural Preservation, and her hands were trembling not from fear, but from the cold that seeped through the floorboards of the archive room. The page was water-damaged, a...
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