The Golden Ritual
Could a man be defeated by the weight of his own name? In the high, cold air of the Imperial Audit Bureau, where the smell of drying ink and damp stone hung thick as wool, Sakura Nakamura stood among the feast, her eyes fixed on the tarnished gold signet ring of her deceased brother. The room was a cacophony of lacquered bowls and the clatter of chopsticks, thirty-year-old Sakura moving with...
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