The door closed.
The lock clicked softly.
---
Izuya didn't move for a few seconds.
---
His laptop screen glowed in the dim room.
The only light.
---
Outside—
his parents were still talking.
Voices low.
Tense.
---
Inside—
there was silence.
---
"…Alright," Izuya muttered.
---
He sat down.
Pulled the chair closer.
---
Opened multiple tabs.
---
Social media.
Message boards.
Archived posts.
---
His father's account.
---
Found it instantly.
---
The post.
---
A public thread.
---
Thousands of views.
Hundreds of comments.
---
And there—
the reply.
---
His father's reply.
---
Short.
---
Too short.
---
"…Edited," Izuya said.
---
Because something was missing.
---
The tone didn't match.
The pattern didn't match.
---
It was incomplete.
---
---
He closed his eyes.
---
The Void activated.
---
The room disappeared.
---
The digital world reconstructed around him.
---
Not as code.
---
But as space.
---
Endless.
---
Threads floated like pathways.
Messages formed structures.
Profiles became doors.
---
Izuya walked forward.
---
Time expanded.
---
One hour outside—
ten hours inside.
---
---
He approached the thread.
---
Replayed it.
---
Original post.
Reply.
Timeline.
---
Then—
he rewound it.
---
Further.
---
Before the reply.
---
Before the post gained attention.
---
---
"…Who saw it first?" he murmured.
---
The data shifted.
---
User activity logs appeared.
---
One account.
---
Then another.
---
Then—
a spike.
---
"…You," Izuya said quietly.
---
A specific user.
---
The one who filed the complaint.
---
---
The Azure Bird appeared beside him.
---
Still.
Watching.
---
---
Izuya followed the trail.
---
Into private messages.
---
Deleted logs.
---
Hidden edits.
---
---
Time passed.
---
Ten hours.
Twenty.
Thirty.
---
Outside—
only three hours.
---
---
He reconstructed the deleted part.
---
His father's apology.
---
Clear.
Genuine.
---
"…Removed intentionally," Izuya muttered.
---
---
But that wasn't enough.
---
He went deeper.
---
Why?
---
Why target his father?
---
---
The Void expanded.
---
More data.
More connections.
---
Social interactions.
Past conflicts.
Digital traces.
---
---
Then—
he saw it.
---
A message.
---
Not public.
---
Not visible normally.
---
---
Sent before everything began.
---
From the same user.
---
To multiple accounts.
---
---
"…Setup," Izuya said.
---
---
The pattern clicked.
---
The insult.
The reply.
The edit.
The complaint.
---
Everything aligned.
---
---
But something was still off.
---
---
"…Too much effort," he murmured.
---
---
Why go this far?
---
For a random argument?
---
No.
---
---
Izuya stopped walking.
---
The Void froze around him.
---
---
Then—
he turned.
---
Looked at the entire structure.
---
Not the details.
---
The pattern.
---
---
"…This isn't about him."
---
---
The realization came quietly.
---
But completely.
---
---
"…It's about response."
---
---
The Azure Bird shifted slightly.
---
---
Izuya's eyes narrowed.
---
"…Test case."
---
---
Silence.
---
---
Back in reality—
his eyes opened.
---
The room returned.
---
The laptop screen still glowing.
---
Clock showing:
9:42 PM
---
Three hours had passed.
---
Inside—
nearly thirty.
---
---
Izuya leaned back.
---
"…So that's the level."
---
---
He looked at the screen again.
---
Then—
at the device on his desk.
---
Arthur's device.
---
---
"…You're involved," he muttered.
---
Not a question.
---
A statement.
---
---
But he didn't pick it up.
---
Not yet.
---
---
Instead—
he turned back to the laptop.
---
"…First problem."
---
His fingers moved again.
---
Faster this time.
---
More precise.
---
---
Rebuilding logs.
Recovering deleted data.
Tracking connections.
---
---
This time—
he wasn't just observing.
---
---
He was acting.
---
---
Outside his room—
his mother's voice trembled slightly.
---
"What are we going to do?"
---
His father didn't answer immediately.
---
"…We wait," he said quietly.
---
---
Inside—
Izuya's eyes reflected the screen.
---
Calm.
Focused.
---
---
"…No," he said under his breath.
---
---
"We don't wait."