{"type":"location","location":{"title":"The Solicitor's Office","description":"You open your eyes to the hum of fluorescent lights and the smell of old paper and expensive coffee. Your body—her body—sits rigid in a leather chair behind a mahogany desk. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows of this forty-second-floor office, London sprawls gray and endless beneath a drizzling sky. Everything here is sharp and angular: glass, steel, the framed certificates on the walls bearing a name you now wear—AMARA OKONKWO, Solicitor-at-Law. Your fingers tremble as you look at them. Fingers. Nails. Skin that stays where you put it.\n\nOn the desk before you, three things demand attention: a leather-bound appointment book open to today's date with a cryptic entry reading 'SETTLEMENT - Three days - do NOT be late'; a stack of case files, their tabs color-coded in meticulous order; and a photograph of a young woman who shares your face but wears an expression of hurt. Your memories—her memories—flood in like an unwanted tide.\n\nYour phone buzzes. A text from someone named 'VERNON' reads: 'Ms. Okonkwo, the deadline approaches. I trust you haven't forgotten our arrangement.'\n\nYou do not know who Vernon is. You do not remember any arrangement. But something in your new chest tells you that forgetting might be fatal.","suggestedActions":["Examine the appointment book more closely","Look through the case files on the desk","Study the photograph of the young woman","Check your phone for more messages or contacts"],"conversation":"odvo90neqalkrx43o5ui6q"},"conversationLength":1,"maxFreeConversationLength":10}