The Wistful Saga
The building stands. It has always stood. A monolith of gray concrete and glass, rising from the damp earth of the city center. You know it. You have spent the last decade inside its walls, breathing its recycled air, watching the fluorescent lights hum their low, electric hymn. It is the Ministry of Civic Order. To the public, it is a symbol of stability. To you, it is a cage. And you are the...
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