The executive floor of the Lee Group was notorious for its brutal climate control. Designed to keep data servers pristine and three-piece-suited executives from breaking a sweat, the air conditioning hummed at a relentless, icy frequency.Jacyn sat at her desk, her fingers flying across her keyboard as she finalized the psychological profile for Director Song. She was completely in her element, her eyes sharp and focused. But unconsciously, she rubbed her bare arms against the chill, letting out a tiny, barely audible sigh as her stomach gave a quiet rumble.I should have grabbed that strawberry matcha pastry from the bakery downstairs, she thought idly, eyes never leaving the screen.Jawn Ng, sitting three feet away behind his privacy screen, didn't look up. But his ears, trained to detect the slightest variance in the executive floor's audio landscape, captured the sigh. He clicked a button on his internal communicator, his face a mask of solemn duty.Three minutes later, the froste
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