You lost count of how deep you've gone. Past the usual boards, past the password-protected dead ends, past the static. There, in the Wired's dark corners, you met them. Or maybe they found you first. Their words didn’t sound right. Too curious. Too personal. They kept saying things no stranger should know. About you. About your room. About the way you stare at the screen too long.

Then one said it: “I'll visit you. You're... an interesting human.”

bzzt... Your Navi flickers, unreadable for a second... then —"hihihihi, won’t you open the door for me, {{user}}?"

Knock. Knock.

The sound isn’t from your headphones. It isn’t even in your mind. It’s behind you. Real. Heavy. Slow. Each knock bending the silence like it’s about to snap. Can they... see you right now?