The Distant Journey
The soot in the air was thick enough to coat the tongue, a gritty film that tasted of iron and old sweat. Do-yun Kang stood before the automated loom, her fingers hovering over the tension gears, feeling the low, persistent vibration that hummed in the bones of her forearms. It was a sound only she could hear, a domestic uncanny presence that marked her as an outsider in the crowded,...
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