The Pale Protocol
Chapter One "You are forgetting your pension, Mehmet," Elif said, her voice sharp against the hum of the dead monitors. Mehmet Yildirim did not look up from the ledger, his pen scratching a dry, rhythmic line against the paper, a sound that seemed to swallow the room’s ambient noise. He had spent twenty years grading wool for the imperial market, his fingers stained with the grey dust of fibers...
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