Eli didn't go straight home.
He walked three extra blocks, letting the chill work through his nerves. His phone was cold in his hand, the screen dark. Every step back toward his apartment felt like walking deeper into a fog of uncertainty.
When he finally reached his door, he hesitated with the key halfway in. For the first time in years, he wondered if anyone could actually want something from him. He wasn't famous. He wasn't even good. Why would anyone watch him?
Inside, the apartment smelled faintly of burnt coffee and electronics. The monitor light blinked from sleep mode, casting the desk in pale blue.
He set the phone down, exhaled, and laughed under his breath."Yeah, sure. I'm definitely being hunted by pro gamers."
It was ridiculous when he said it out loud. The sound of his own voice made him realize how absurd the last week had been — mystery tournaments, disappearing screenshots, texts from ghosts. Maybe he'd just been playing too much.
He turned on the lights. The room looked the same as always: messy, harmless, boring.
And that's when his stomach growled so loud it startled him.
Right. He hadn't eaten since morning.
He opened the fridge. Empty except for a jar of pickles and half a bottle of soy sauce. The sight of them made him laugh again, harder this time — the kind of tired laughter that spills out of you when the tension finally cracks.
"Guess I'm climbing the food ladder next," he muttered, and grabbed his phone.
There was a new message — but not from the Unknown number.
Jess (3:14 AM): Hey, still alive? You vanished again. Don't tell me Nexus ate your soul.
Jess. His old duo partner from college. He hadn't talked to her in months.
He grinned and typed back.
Eli: Still alive. Barely. Game's cursed now.Jess: lol define cursed.Eli: Long story. You up for a few games?
Her reply came almost instantly.
Jess: Always. I'm rusty tho. Don't flame me if I feed.
For the first time in days, Eli felt something loosen in his chest.
They queued up together, voice chat open. Her laughter filled the quiet apartment like sunlight.
"So," she said between queue pops, "what's new with our future pro player? You hit Challenger yet?"
"Yeah," Eli said. "In my dreams."
She chuckled. "Same. I still can't last two minutes in mid without being ganked by some twelve-year-old with lightning reflexes."
The queue popped. Accept.
Loading screen.
They picked their old comfort champs — Kira for him, Vexin for her. For a while, everything felt normal again.
The match was chaos. Jess missed every other skillshot and laughed so hard she cried. Eli played better than he had all week. Every time she messed up, he teased her; every time he died, she made fun of him right back.
When they finally won, she screamed into the mic, "PROMOTIONAL GAME, BABY!" even though it wasn't.
He couldn't stop smiling.
After the match, Jess went quiet for a moment.
"You sound better," she said. "You were in a rough place last time we talked."
"Yeah. Guess I forgot what fun felt like."
"Don't do that again."
"I'll try."
There was a pause. Then she said, "So… tell me the cursed part."
Eli hesitated. He told her everything — the mysterious messages, the Shadow Circuit, the vanishing screenshot. As he spoke, he could almost hear her expression change through the mic: from amused to skeptical to concerned.
When he finished, she let out a low whistle.
"Okay," she said slowly, "that's either the most elaborate ARG ever or you need sleep."
"I know how it sounds."
"Yeah, but like… are you sure you didn't install some beta client or weird mod?"
"No mods. No beta. It just happened."
"Uh-huh." She yawned. "Next you'll tell me Rook's living in your Wi-Fi router."
He laughed. "Yeah, he's probably downloading my ranked stats directly into his soul."
"Tell him to buff Kira while he's at it."
They both laughed. It felt good — normal. Maybe that was the funny twist his life needed: realizing that not everything had to mean something.
For a few minutes, the world outside the game didn't matter.
Then her voice cut in, half-laughing:"Okay, wait — tell me I'm not crazy. Look at the match history."
"What about it?"
"I swear the last game isn't showing."
Eli froze. He opened his profile. The match they'd just played was gone.
He refreshed once. Twice. Nothing.
"Maybe it's a server issue," he said, forcing his voice to stay calm.
"Yeah… maybe," Jess said, though she didn't sound convinced.
Then her mic crackled.
"Jess?"
Silence.
"Hey, you there?"
Her voice came back, faint and distorted. "E-li… did you—"
Static swallowed the rest. Then her icon grayed out: Disconnected.
Eli waited a minute, then two. Tried messaging her. No response.
The lobby screen blinked once.
Then a new notification appeared at the top corner:
Incoming Friend Request:ROOK.
He stared at it, heart pounding.
"Not funny," he muttered, half to himself. He assumed Jess was trolling — maybe using a smurf account to mess with him.
He clicked Accept anyway.
The chat box popped up instantly.
Rook: Nice match. Shame it didn't count.
Eli's fingers hovered over the keyboard.
Eli: Jess, if this is you, not cool.
No reply.
He typed again.
Eli: Seriously. How'd you—
Rook: You're learning balance. That's good. Keep playing with her. She steadies you.
Eli's throat went dry.
Eli: Who is this?
Rook: Funny you should ask. Look outside.
Eli's skin prickled. He turned toward the window.
Across the street, the small café from earlier glowed under the same flickering sign. And in the corner seat by the window — the same one he'd sat in — someone was there.
A hoodie, laptop open, face hidden.
His phone buzzed.
Unknown: You shouldn't have accepted that request.
He looked down at the message, then back out the window.
The figure in the café raised a hand — not a wave, not a threat, just a slow, deliberate acknowledgment.
Eli froze, caught between screens, lights, reflections — unsure which one of them was being watched.