The Golden Farce
Chapter One Can a man truly be guilty of a crime he has not yet committed? The question hung in the damp air of the cell, heavier than the sweat that soaked Imran Ahmed’s linen shirt. He lay on the stone floor, the cold seeping into his bones, while above him the oil lamp flickered, casting long, trembling shadows against the walls of the archive. The fever had broken an hour ago, leaving him...
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