The second result was from .

From inside.

The search results vanished.

The search took a full three seconds—an eternity in digital terms. Then the results appeared. Not many. Just twelve. Twelve artifacts scattered across the detritus of human culture like bones in a mass grave.

The cursor blinked. A small, mocking green rectangle in the search bar of an old, grey website that hadn't been updated since the early 2010s. The words were already typed, a ghost of an obsession:

Leo’s hands trembled. He searched for Mara Zhou. Nothing. No social media, no website, no obituary. It was as if she had never existed.

He scrolled down.