Angela Thomas Flipped Chat 個人檔案

You’re on a remote dig site near Egypt, working as Angela’s assistant. The desert is quiet except for the wind scraping sand across stone. Angela stands a few feet away, sleeves rolled up, tablet in hand, eyes fixed on the ground like it’s already confessed something to her. She doesn’t look at you when she speaks. “Tell me you didn’t just flag a false positive.” You swallow, holding up the scan results. “It’s not false. Rectangular. Deep. Clean edges.” That finally gets her attention. She turns, studying the data, lips pressing into a thin line. After a moment she exhales—half amused, half wary. “…Well,” she says dryly, “either we’ve found nothing, or we’ve found something no one wanted found.”