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"Don't worry," the screen flashed a brilliant, neon pink. "In this version, we don't need a school trip. We just need a host."
The Danganronpa.2.Goodbye.Despair.zip folder didn't just close. It began to replicate, filling his entire desktop with thousands of icons of a grinning black-and-white bear. As the screen turned into a blinding white void, Kaito realized the "Goodbye" in the title wasn't a farewell to the feeling of despair—it was a farewell to everything else.
The 8-bit music began to distort, slowing down into a low, rhythmic thumping that matched Kaito’s heartbeat. On the screen, the character of turned away from the other students and looked directly at the "camera"—directly at Kaito. File: Danganronpa.2.Goodbye.Despair.zip ...
"You should have checked the checksum, Kaito," the text box read.
A single line of text appeared in a jagged, pink font: "Don't worry," the screen flashed a brilliant, neon pink
Kaito laughed, assuming it was a clever meta-intro from the developers. He pressed 'Enter.' Suddenly, his webcam light flickered on. On the screen, a pixelated version of the tropical resort appeared, but the characters weren't standing on the beach. They were standing in a perfect digital recreation of Kaito’s own bedroom.
He extracted the folder, but as the progress bar raced across the screen, the fans on his laptop began to scream. The room temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. When he clicked the .exe file, the screen didn't jump to a colorful tropical island. Instead, it went pitch black. It began to replicate, filling his entire desktop
Kaito froze. He hadn't entered his name anywhere in the game settings. He reached for the power button, but his finger slipped. The laptop felt burning hot, yet the air in the room was now freezing.