For two weeks, he worked harder than ever. He finished three tracks. He started a fourth—a deep, melancholic house tune with a vocal chop of his ex-girlfriend saying “never enough.” It was good. Maybe his best.

Under the piano roll, a comment: “Don’t stop. We’re listening.”

Leo stared at the cracked screen of his laptop. The orange glow of his bedroom lamp illuminated a single, blinking message: “Authorization required. This copy of Ableton Live Suite will expire in 7 days.”

The window closed. Ableton Live reopened by itself. The session was still there—the melancholic house track. But a new MIDI clip sat on a blank track. It contained a single note: C3. Repeated every quarter note for 256 bars.

Leo’s blood went cold. He didn't touch the keyboard.

“Hello, Leo. You’ve made 47 edits since patch installation. The last edit was a kick drum transient at bar 33. Nice swing, by the way.”