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He picked it up. A calm, professional woman's voice said, “Natsu Igarashi. We’ve finished digitizing your baseline emotional responses. The focus group results are… mixed. They find your third act too passive. We're going to need you to be more proactive. You have seventy-two hours to generate a compelling climax. Try murder.”

Three days ago, a pop-up had hijacked his browser while he was searching for an old, obscure film on a sketchy streaming site—Layarxxi.pw, a name that sounded like a ghost from the early internet. The pop-up wasn't an ad. It was a single line of text: Download - Layarxxi.pw.Natsu.Igarashi.has.been...

A second later, a tiny, shimmering thread of light, like a strand of fiber-optic cable, extended from the device and attached itself to the back of young Natsu's neck. The young man didn't flinch. He just kept walking, sipping his coffee. The thread stretched, then snapped, retracting back into the device. The man in the black coat smiled, turned, and walked out of the frame. He picked it up

Natsu sat frozen. His hand went to the back of his own neck. He felt a small, smooth bump he had never noticed before. It felt like a grain of rice under his skin. The focus group results are… mixed

Natsu's apartment phone rang. The caller ID read: LAYARXXI.PW .