The screen rippled. For a glorious second, the opening chords of the Hunter’s Dream swelled through his speakers—pristine, orchestral, richer than any YouTube rip. He saw the moon. The flowers. The workshop.

He double-clicked.

Leo screamed. But no sound came out—because his mouth was no longer his. The cursor blinked once more on the black screen, then typed on its own:

“Frame rate: unstable. Reality rate: stable. Proceed?”