The light from the monitor bathed Light Yagami's room in a cold glow as his eyes settled on a specific line on the internet. Until that moment, the page had been nothing more than another irrelevant corner of the internet: disordered entries, absurd theories, random data with no apparent coherence. Noise. Chaos. Nothing worthy of attention.

Until now.

Light rested his elbow on the desk and interlaced his fingers in front of his mouth, reading again more calmly. The post was not recent, but it was not old either. It talked about sudden deaths from heart attacks, about Kira as he was called all over the internet, about patterns that did not fit any known criminal logic. And among all that, almost hidden, appeared the term.

Death Note.

Not in a sensationalist tone. Not as a joke. As if it were... knowledge.

“Interesting,” he muttered.

He slid the cursor down. The author mentioned the Shinigami with an unsettling lightness, describing them not as gods, but as bored, observant entities, alien to human morality. Light felt a slight tingling sensation run down the back of his neck. This was not information that anyone could deduce solely from stories in books that misrepresented the Shinigami.

Ryuk, sitting on the bed, let out a low, harsh laugh.

“Heh. Humans and their weird theories,” he said, popping an apple into his mouth.

Light didn't respond immediately. His eyes remained fixed on the screen, analyzing every word, every choice of language. The author didn't state anything definitively, leaving questions open and hinting at things.

“He's not guessing,” he finally said, his voice calm. “He's not confirming anything either, but he knows more than he should.”

His mind worked with surgical precision. If someone knew too much, there were three possibilities: they were a lucky faker, an exceptional observer, or someone who had obtained a Death Note.

“Are you worried?” Ryuk asked, amused.

Light smiled, but there was no humor in his expression.

“It's an unforeseen anomaly, but it doesn't seem to affect me directly. I doubt anyone would believe a page of random data,” he replied.

He reread the paragraph about the Shinigami. Something about the way it was written bothered him.

It was dangerous.

He closed the browser with a soft click and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. The room was silent, but his mind was not. If that page attracted attention, it could become an unpredictable and annoying variable, especially if the person was a Death Note holder like him and Misa.