Then, a single chime. The screen lit up with one final message from mzplay:

Leo’s blood turned cold. He looked up. His window faced a brick wall. There was no shadow. But the curtain was moving. There was no wind.

Then came the sound. It was a melody, but broken—a piano playing itself in an empty concert hall, each note dripping with reverb. Underneath it, a whispered conversation in a language Leo almost recognized. His skin prickled. He felt like the sound wasn’t coming from the phone, but through it, as if his apartment was suddenly a thin wall between him and somewhere else.

His phone flashed: The screen flickered, and for a split second, he saw the reflection—not of his room, but of a long, empty hallway lined with doors, each labeled with a room number. Room 141’s door was open. Inside, a figure sat in a chair, wearing headphones, facing away.

He plugged his phone into a dead power strip out of habit. Nothing.

“Try this,” his friend Mia had texted the day before, along with a link. “It’s not a game. It’s a... waiting room.”