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At the base of the sound‑dome, a rusted metal door bore the faded imprint . The keypad was dead, its screen cracked. Lira placed a palm on the panel, and the voice‑modulator hummed. A low frequency resonated, vibrating the metal and causing a soft click. The door sighed open, revealing a cavernous chamber lined with ancient acoustic panels, their surfaces still humming with the faint echo of forgotten concerts.
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