In the morning, it was done.

The opening shot was wrong. No studio logos. No rating card. Just a grainy parking garage. A man in a bloodstained dress shirt stumbled into frame, holding his side. Korean subtitles burned into the bottom read: “Don’t run. They’re watching through the cameras.”

“Season 2 begins at your current location.”

Nothing. Just the hum of his refrigerator.

Twenty-three minutes in, the man was cornered on a rooftop. A drone hovered overhead, its red light blinking. The man looked up and said, “Tell my daughter I’m sorry.” Then a gunshot—not from the movie, but from Leo’s own hallway.