December 24, 2029.
TG Tower ran on schedules and deadlines, but the lobby smelled faintly like pine because someone in facilities had decided people should feel something. A small tree stood near the reception desk with simple lights and no ornaments that could break. Security guards wore the same uniforms, but one of them had a red cap on top of his head like he was testing whether management would tell him to take it off.
Timothy arrived a little after eight. The elevator ride was quiet. When the doors opened on the executive floor, he saw the difference immediately. Fewer footsteps. More empty desks. People had taken leave where they could. Those who stayed moved like they were finishing tasks so they could escape.
Hana was already in her office. Her door was open. She had a stack of folders, a laptop, and a paper cup of coffee that looked untouched. She was on a call, voice low, one hand covering the mic as she listened.
