Time/Date: TC1853.01.19 (Afternoon)
Location: Metropolitan Police Station - 4th Ring, Interrogation Room Three
The fluorescent lights hummed overhead with that particular frequency that made everything feel slightly unreal. Lieutenant Lyra Veyne had learned, over decades of interrogations, that this institutional lighting had a way of stripping away pretense. Under its harsh glare, expensive silk looked cheap, carefully maintained composure cracked like old porcelain, and lies—no matter how well-rehearsed—eventually came apart.
Selene Lin sat across from her, fingers finding that piece of emerald sleeve again. Rubbing. The nervous tell had been present since processing began, but now—two hours into questioning—it was constant. A physical manifestation of composure unraveling thread by thread.
