He tried to alt-tab, to force quit, to pull the power plug, but the screen stayed dark, the candle flame growing taller and brighter until it wasn't just a picture—it began to cast a warm, flickering orange light onto his real keyboard.

In the shadowy corners of the internet, where forgotten websites flicker like dying neon signs, there existed a portal known as . It was a site that looked like it had been frozen in 2004—clunky navigation, pixelated banners, and a sprawling directory of files with names that felt like secret codes.

Every time Leo moved his mouse, the figure in the reflection took a step closer. He realized the "game" was tracking his actual movement through his webcam, mapping the room behind him into the digital space.

The final prompt appeared: The Aftermath