“He says, ‘You were never lost. You were the trap.’”

Leo paused the video. His reflection stared back from the dark screen, but for a split second, he thought he saw another face behind his—wired, hollow-eyed, grinning.

The screen flickered, and instead of the Netflix logo or the haunting opening theme, a grainy, shaky image appeared. It looked like a home video—wood-paneled walls, a flickering fluorescent light, and a woman sitting at a metal desk. She wore a vintage Jupiter 2 flight suit, but the patch on her arm was unfamiliar: a broken circle, not the Resolute’s emblem.

But that night, when he woke at 3:00 AM, his laptop was on. The file was back. And it was playing.