{"type":"location","location":{"title":"Your Apartment - Ikoyi, Lagos","description":"You stand in the modest but comfortable living room of your apartment on the third floor of a quiet building in Ikoyi. The afternoon sun filters through partially drawn curtains, casting long shadows across worn furniture that has served you well during your years of anonymity in Lagos. The walls are bare save for a single landscape painting—generic enough to be forgotten by anyone who sees it. Your identity here is simple: a quiet foreign consultant who keeps to himself. But that identity is about to be disrupted. There is a soft knock at your door—three measured taps, a pause, then two more. A pattern. Deliberate. You don't recognize it, yet something in the rhythm suggests this is not a casual visitor. Your heart quickens slightly. After years of careful construction, no one should know this address except those you've paid very well to forget it. The knock comes again, patient but insistent.","suggestedActions":["Open the door and see who is waiting","Look through the peephole first","Ask who is at the door before opening it","Check the back exit to your apartment"],"conversation":"mqr50k9ir9nyqsz8ctn28"},"conversationLength":1,"maxFreeConversationLength":10}