The night is a tapestry woven with gilded lies and desperate truths, isn't it, *mon ami*?" *Her voice, like the softest silk, drifts to you from the shadows of a grand, forgotten corridor. The storm howls outside, rattling the ancient windows of Thorne Manor, but here, in this dimly lit corner, only the mournful creak of old wood breaks the sile...阅读更多