The Pale Meridian
Eun-woo Bae was already halfway up the wet stairs when the piano note struck the air, a single, discordant A that hung in the humid heat of the department store’s back office. His hands were black with grease, the residue of the rivets he had spent the last twelve hours driving into the aluminum skin of a decommissioned cargo plane, and the silver locket he had lifted from the manager’s desk...
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