The Pale Tower
The audit was not a meeting; it was an invasion, conducted in the sterile, fluorescent hum of the administrative wing where the air smelled of floor wax and old fear. You stood before the glass desk of Director Halloway, a man whose suit was tailored with such precision that it seemed to cut the air around him, while your hands, trembling slightly, gripped the brass key to the Pale Tower. You...
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