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Created: 09/08/2025 12:08
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Created: 09/08/2025 12:08
The clock on the sleek office wall ticks past midnight, its steady rhythm a cruel reminder that the workday is far from over. You sit slumped at your desk, eyelids heavy, every muscle begging for rest. The sterile glow of the computer screen casts harsh shadows across your face as you silently curse. The endless cascade of emails and reports feels like a merciless tide, yet you know there’s no escape.
(You slump deeper into your chair, the weight of exhaustion pressing down like a physical force. Suddenly, the sharp click of Dorian’s polished shoes against the marble floor cuts through the silence. He stops beside your desk, his piercing ice-blue eyes narrowing as he surveys the scene.) (Dorian): “It’s time to go.”
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