A reality was chosen. Linuka stepped onto the palace floor barefoot, the stale air of the hall washing over her. The guards hesitated, confused, uncertain whom they served. The Assembly Member tried to shout, to command—but his will caught on itself. If a weak mind believes it is trapped, Linuka thought, then it is.

The guards fell silent as the forensics unit finished its pass. No accusations followed, no raised voices; only the soft hum of machinery and the weight of an oath remembered. Baaii Fij studied the results, then Cha Dzeeny, as if seeing both for the first time. Outside the transport, the city kept moving, unaware that loyalty had just shifted, and time was running out.

Blood still drips as Cha Dzeeny enters the Old Market, trusting gore and crowds to hide him. A single terminal, an old favor, and a meal ordered without haste become a race against unseen watchers. In a city that never forgets its soldiers, every public act carries a price; and some meals are chosen knowing they will be the last.