A tape has surfaced — recovered from the scene of a disappearance no one ever solved. What you're watching is not a recreation. It's the last recording made before everything went wrong.

You step into a single corridor, the same one, over and over. Every loop looks identical at first glance — but it isn't. Furniture has shifted. Shadows fall the wrong way. Something that was on the table is now floating an inch above it. The tape itself seems to know, glitching and warping every time you spot what's wrong.

Search each loop carefully. Find the anomalies hidden in the static before the signal degrades completely. But don't take too long — the corridor isn't always empty. There's something that only moves when your flashlight goes dark. Keep it lit, and it waits. Let it fade, and it gets closer.