You wake on cold marble. The doors are locked. The lobby is empty. You don’t remember your name. The Grand Meridian Hotel was built for comfort. For elegance. For quiet discretion. Its corridors promise safety. Its records promise order. Its staff promise nothing at all. Two hallways stretch before you. One leads toward chandeliers, galleries, and guest rooms prepared with meticulous care. The other slips into service corridors where pipes hum behind the walls and signs contradict one another. Every choice draws you deeper into a building that does not behave like a maze. It behaves like a system. As you move through ballrooms without music, archives filled with altered files, and balconies that overlook more than architecture, a single designation begins to follow you: Guest 4B — Status Pending. Complaints are misfiled instead of erased. Records split into parallel versions of the truth. Routes redirect just before you reach what matters most. Someone once tried to interfere. They documented what they saw. They were warned. The hotel did not make a mistake. It corrected one. In this interactive psychological horror novel, your decisions shape the path you take—but the Grand Meridian is always watching, always adjusting, always preserving what it calls integrity. Some endings are quiet. Some are final. Some refuse to close cleanly. To leave, you must understand why you were brought here. And whether the hotel ever intended to let you go. A literary branching horror novel about institutional control, fragmented truth, and the violence of order.