{"type":"location","location":{"title":"Your Office - Late Evening","description":"The glow of Seoul's neon-lit skyline filters through the rain-streaked windows of your cramped office on the 23rd floor of the Gangnam District. Holographic ads flicker silently in the streets below, casting shifting blue and pink light across your cluttered desk. Your memory reconstruction rig—an expensive piece of black-market neural hardware—hums quietly in the corner, its crystalline interface waiting for input. A thin folder sits on your desk marked with a client's name: PARK MIN-JU, age 54. Inside are neural data fragments extracted from her implant, along with a handwritten note requesting the recovery of \"one afternoon. The 14th of March, five years ago. Before the deletion.\"\n\nYour coffee has gone cold. The city never truly sleeps in Seoul, and neither do you—not when there's work to be done. Something about this case feels different, though. The neural fragments are incomplete, fragmented in ways that suggest more than just a standard voluntary deletion. And the client's voice on the phone this morning had carried an edge of desperation that made your instincts prickle.\n\nOn your desk, a second object catches your eye: a encrypted data chip that arrived this morning with no return address, and a message written in condensation on your office window: \"STOP DIGGING.\"\n\nThe rain continues to fall outside.","suggestedActions":["Examine the client folder and neural data fragments more closely","Activate the memory reconstruction rig and attempt initial analysis","Investigate the mysterious data chip that arrived this morning","Call your client, Min-ju, and ask about the threatening message","Check your office security logs to see who delivered the data chip"],"conversation":"zdafkklati0gc50zo7pbvt"},"conversationLength":1,"maxFreeConversationLength":10}