The Pale Bonsai
The alarm did not ring. It screamed, a jagged, digital shriek that tore through the sterile silence of the sub-basement, waking Julian Vane not with startle but with a profound, bone-deep exhaustion that felt older than his years. He was a man composed of right angles and rigid duties, a structural engineer for the Department of Civic Integrity, and he knew the building as well as he knew the...
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