The Wistful Asylum
Act I Riku Nakagawa’s hands, stained with the brine of the galley where he had spent the afternoon scrubbing salt from the copper fittings, moved with the mechanical precision of a man who had long ago stopped feeling the cold. He was forty-two, a senior astronomer in all but name, for the imperial observatory had been converted into a hotel concierge’s office during the war, and now, in the...
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