His heart hammered against his ribs. He wasn't alone on the server anymore.

Leo didn't hesitate. He double-clicked the archive. As the extractor ran, a notification popped up in the bottom right corner of his screen:

The name of your file suggests it is a digital video rip, likely of the 2022 film (often labeled as 0bp or 0bp02022 in specific release circles).

The "Part 01" in the filename wasn't a segment of a movie. It was the first phase of a trap.

Leo tapped his fingers against the mahogany desk, the rhythmic clicking echoing through the silent apartment. On his screen, the file name sat like a cryptic taunt: 0bp02022_MULTi_Part01 . This wasn't just a movie. To Leo, it was the "Key."

He didn't grab his laptop. He didn't grab his coat. He grabbed the drive, kicked out the window screen to the fire escape, and vanished into the rain just as the sound of a heavy boot splintered his front door.

He opened the video file. Instead of a movie or security footage, the screen displayed a live feed of a dark hallway. It looked familiar. He turned his head toward his own front door. At the end of the real-life hallway, a small red light was blinking—a camera he hadn't installed.