And somewhere in the dark, a faucet that had been shut off for three hours began to drip once more.

The spacebar stopped working. The broom took another step. Then another. The water in the kitchen rose to his ankles, then his knees. The movie played on, a perfect loop of his own terrified face reflected in a dark window, watching a wooden handle come down.

The video player flickered. The timestamp changed from 00:00:00 to 00:00:01. The broom twitched.

He crept down the hall, his phone held up like a crucifix. The kitchen light was off, but the window over the sink was open. He didn’t remember opening it. The faucet was gushing. Not leaking— gushing a geyser of dark, silty water that smelled of riverbed and rust. And standing in the middle of the flood, gripping the tap with four wooden fingers, was the broom.

The progress bar was a liar.

The file name was the first strange thing. He’d found it buried on a forgotten forum’s third page, a site that looked like it hadn't been updated since the dawn of broadband. "Download - The Sorcerer-s Apprentice -2010- Bl..." The title cut off, incomplete. He’d assumed it was a pirated copy of the Nic Cage movie. A bad rip. A forgettable two hours of CGI mayhem.

At 2:01 AM, the bar jumped to 100%.

Now it was 2:00 AM, his laptop fan was screaming like a seagull caught in a turbine, and his reflection in the dark window looked as haunted as he felt.

> Anateus Domain: Initialize? (Y/N)

He slammed the spacebar. Pause.

Download complete. Run again? [Yes] / [Yes]

"You cannot pause what has already been commanded."

Leo didn't click. He didn't have to. The cursor moved on its own.

He didn't type Y. He didn't touch anything. Yet the letter Y appeared in the prompt, followed by a brisk Enter .