Raghu, the planner, tapped the spacebar like a metronome. “If this seed tracker’s right, it’s the only copy with the director’s alternate cut.” He pushed his glasses up his nose, eyes bright with the fever of someone who believed in second chances.

A voice, dry and authoritative, filled the room from the laptop’s tinny speakers. “If you are watching this, you are not the first. You will not be the last. This is not piracy. This is an invitation.”

Amaan’s jaw worked. “We’ve been chasing a file. Maybe we found the wrong thing.”

Raghu felt the old calculations rearrange. “Wrong for us, maybe. Right for someone.”