The cursor blinked.
Again.
And again.
Tama stared at the screen, frozen. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck, despite the cold. The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of his monitor. His fingers hovered above the keyboard, trembling.
He hadn't typed anything.
But the message was there.
YOU'RE NEXT.
(continue or die?)
He blinked, unsure if his tired mind was playing tricks on him. For the past six hours, he had been buried in lines of code—just another night in front of a screen, escaping reality by cracking encrypted systems for money, for thrill… for survival.
But this wasn't from any system he knew.
It wasn't a virus.
It wasn't a joke.
It was direct. It was personal.
And it knew his name.
His real name—Tama Yudhistira—flashed briefly across the top-left corner of the screen, then vanished before he could screenshot it.
He yanked out the internet cable. Nothing changed.
He shut off the monitor. The glow persisted.
His monitor wasn't even on anymore.
"What the f—"
Suddenly, a sharp knock at the door. Three quick raps.
Tama's heart dropped to his stomach.
He lived alone.
No one ever knocked at this hour.
He rose from his chair, slowly, each footstep heavy with dread. He reached the door, placed his eye against the peephole.
Nothing.
Just the flickering hallway light.
He exhaled shakily, pulling back.
Then he saw it.
A phone—his backup phone, one he never gave to anyone—buzzing on the desk, its black screen glowing.
UNKNOWN CALLER
He didn't move.
It rang again.
And again.
Then it stopped.
A second later, a message appeared.
We see you.
(Move, and she dies.)
He didn't understand.
"Who?" he whispered.
His phone buzzed once more. A photo.
Tama's blood froze.
It was his sister—Risa. Blindfolded. Tied to a chair. Tears on her cheeks.
The next line sent shivers through his bones.
Continue the game. Or watch her die.
---
🕹️ To be continued...