As the clock struck midnight, marking the start of the day, Sary walked to the window. The moon was a pale sliver over the Mekong River. He reached into his pocket and gripped a small jade charm.
"Paling Jitu," he murmured—the most accurate. "And trusted." As the clock struck midnight, marking the start
The rhythmic clicking of the mechanical tiles echoed through the small, dimly lit room in the heart of Phnom Penh. Sary sat hunched over a worn wooden desk, his eyes darting between a flickering computer screen and a notebook filled with frantic scribbles. As the clock struck midnight