When he unzipped it, there was no software, no image, and no virus. There was only a single, nameless text file. He opened it, expecting a creepypasta or a prank. Instead, the screen displayed a live-updating log of his own room.

[16:05:12] Elias realizes the file isn't recording him. [16:05:15] Elias realizes the file is recording the thing standing behind his chair.

His heart hammered against his ribs. He looked around. The room was empty. No cameras, no sensors—just the hum of his PC. He turned back to the screen, his fingers trembling. [16:04:40] Elias looks behind the door.

He hadn't looked yet. He didn't want to. But the file didn't just record—it predicted.

Elias froze. He didn't turn around. He didn't scream. He just watched the cursor blink at the end of the line, waiting for the next timestamp to appear.

[16:04:21] Elias sits at the desk. [16:04:22] Elias moves the mouse. [16:04:25] Elias stops breathing for three seconds.

Slowly, Elias turned his head toward the door. It was slightly ajar, revealing nothing but the deep shadows of the hallway.