The Pale Garden
The champagne was cold, but the applause was hot, a physical weight pressing against my chest as I stood at the center of the ballroom. Director Halloway raised his glass, his smile a tight, surgical incision in his face, and the room erupted in a roar that felt less like celebration and more like the sound of a dam breaking. I was the hero of the sector, the man who had kept the border clean...
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