{"type":"location","location":{"title":"Your Agency Office - Lahore, 1947","description":"The ceiling fan creaks overhead, doing little to dispel the oppressive heat that hangs over your small office on Gali Mandi. Dust motes drift through shafts of afternoon light filtering through the grimy window. Your desk—scarred oak, inherited from a better decade—is cluttered with closed case files and yesterday's chai cups. The partition happened only months ago, and Lahore still feels like a city holding its breath. Through the window, you can see the narrow street below: vendors, refugees with cloth bundles, a military jeep rumbling past.\n\nA woman in a black dupatta sits across from you, her fingers twisting a handkerchief. Begum Nasreen Mirza. Her son, Amir, vanished three days ago. She's offered you a sum that would keep this agency alive for a year—perhaps two. Her eyes are red from crying, but there's something else there too. Fear. Not the ordinary fear of a mother, but the fear of someone who knows her son has stumbled onto something dangerous.\n\n\"He was asking questions,\" she whispered before you agreed to take the case. \"Questions about the camps. About who was moving through them at night.\"\n\nNow she's gone, leaving you with only an address: the old Badshahi refugee camp, three miles north of the city center.","suggestedActions":["Examine the case file and notes left by Begum Mirza more carefully","Ask your office assistant Khalid if he knows anything about the Mirza family","Head to the refugee camp immediately","Visit the local police station to ask about the missing boy"],"conversation":"qo39yhlmhwp7mb32c6hm55"},"conversationLength":1,"maxFreeConversationLength":10}