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Chapter 165: Two Pillar Houses
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Chapter 167: The Handle Is One Of Us
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... f laborers’ homes, rising into the rose-gold dusk like prayers to gods that no longer listened.
The clang of hammers, the bark of market traders, the cries of children chasing each other down alleys—all of it began to fade as torches were lit and the city shifted.
The night crowd began to stir: masked courtesans, unmasked whores, drunk poets, whispering spies, and silver-toothed killers took their places.
In the veins of this old city, blood moved differently after dusk. ...
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