Author's Note: Do Not Unlock Yet. Chapter Is Still Under Construction.
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The clang of the feedhub's closing bell echoed down the corridor as Victor set down the last tray, relief washing over him. Even punishment—no matter how well-hidden benevolence one might find in serving meals—couldn't compete with freedom. He bowed to the cleaning staff, exchanged warm farewells, and strolled slowly out into the cool evening air. Three weeks of forced labor remained—three weeks of sweeping banquet halls, scrubbing floors, hauling crates—but tonight, that burden felt a little lighter.
