The Erasure of Marcus
The fluorescent lights of the City Hall basement hummed with a frequency that felt like a headache. Marcus sat surrounded by stacks of yellowing ledgers, the smell of old paper and damp concrete filling his nostrils. He was an auditor, a man of decimals and balances, and he had just found the ghost in the numbers. It started with a discrepancy in the "Urban Renewal Fund"—a series of payments to...
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