The Distant Threshold
Act I "You're wasting the paper, Akari-san. The ink is better suited for ledgers, not fairy tales." Kenji’s voice cut through the silence of the study, sharp as the edge of the shears I kept in my apron pocket, the tools of a trade that no longer paid for rice. I sat alone at the desk, the light from the single kerosene lamp casting long, trembling shadows against the wall, where the draft had...
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