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Chapter 178: Not Needed
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... cent of stale ale that clung to every splintered inch of wood. Lanterns hung low, their dim orange light wavering across the battered bar top, turning half-empty bottles into little glass relics of better nights. Outside, London was a ghost—fog rolling through the streets like it had secrets to tell, sirens wailing somewhere far enough away to ignore.
Inside The Rusty Anchor, time seemed to stall. The air was heavy, the conversations quieter now—murmurs of laughter dulled by weariness, t ...
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