The heavy PDF icon on Leo’s desktop felt like a forbidden door.

Leo’s midterm was in six hours. His textbook sat open to Unit 4, a sprawling mess of highlighted vocabulary and unfinished "Critical Thinking" bubbles. Every time he tried to summarize the passage on "The Art of Storytelling," his brain felt like it was buffering.

Leo felt a rush of relief, but as he reached the writing section, the PDF changed. The text started to flicker. Beneath the answer for the "Cause and Effect" essay, new words began to crawl across the screen in real-time:

"Just one peek," he muttered. "To check my work. Not to cheat." He double-clicked. The file was password-protected. Leo tried his student ID. Access Denied. He tried the professor’s last name. Access Denied.

Finally, he tried "vocabulary"—the very thing he was avoiding. The screen blinked, and the document unfurled. Page after page of perfect answers scrolled by: