The morning mist had yet to fully dissipate over Pittsburgh.

In the Mayor’s Office on the third floor of City Hall, Leo Wallace sat behind his desk, reviewing documents.

Everything seemed normal.

Outside the window, traffic flowed steadily down Grant Street as workers headed for construction sites in the South District.

In the physical world, Pittsburgh was barreling forward along the track Leo had set for it.

But in a world of another dimension—a vast web woven from fiber optics, signal towers, and servers—a storm was quietly gathering against Leo.

「University of Pittsburgh, men’s dormitory.」

Josh, a college junior, had just woken up. He habitually picked up his phone and opened the r/Pittsburgh subreddit.

A red "Hot" tag was plastered next to the pinned post.

The title was startling: "Wallace’s Betrayal: The Dirty Deal Behind the Port’s Privatization."

Josh frowned.

He had actually scrolled past this article two days ago.

Back then, it was just another ignored new post at the bottom of his feed, with zero upvotes and zero comments.

He had only glanced at the headline before swiping past, instinctively dismissing it as another boring smear piece from the right-wing media.

As one of Leo’s staunchest supporters—he had even handed out flyers in front of City Hall—he’d always scoffed at this kind of "noise."

But now, things were different.

The once-ignored article was now at the top of the page. The comments were growing at an astonishing rate, and its popularity score had even surpassed the news of the school’s football team winning.

This unusual surge in popularity made him uneasy and compelled him to click on the link once more.

The article provided a detailed analysis of the recently passed Strategic Logistics Unified Management Bill.

"...pay close attention to the clause on page 214 regarding the granting of an ’exclusive franchise.’ This means Pittsburgh’s logistical lifeline for the next fifty years will be completely monopolized by this single document."

"...then look at the description on page 218, at the strict requirement that the bidder ’must possess 500 acres of existing railway land.’ In all of Western Pennsylvania, only one company meets this condition—the Morganfield Industrial Group."

The final paragraph of the article was written in bold:

"Leo Wallace, the Mayor who claims to stand with the workers, the dissident who built his career by railing against oligarchs, is in fact packaging up Pittsburgh’s most valuable asset and selling it at a rock-bottom price to the city’s biggest capitalist."

"He isn’t Robin Hood; he’s Judas in a hoodie."

Josh finished reading and opened the comment section.

It was already in an uproar.

"I knew it! I knew they were all the same!"

"We’ve been had, brothers! He’s just fixing the roads to cover up the fact that he’s selling off our land!"

"This is why those old geezers on the city council passed the budget. They’d already divided up the loot!"

"Leo Wallace, you owe us an explanation!"

Josh’s fingers trembled. He typed a few words on his keyboard, then deleted them.

Finally, he hit "Share" and added a comment: "Tell me this isn’t true."

Similar scenes played out in the labs of Carnegie Mellon University, in the private chat groups of the Steel Union, and in every small circle of left-wing activists who followed Pittsburgh politics.

「City Hall, the Mayor’s Office.」

The door was thrown open.

Sarah Jenkins burst in, holding a tablet. Her expression was grim.

"Leo, we have a problem."

Sarah placed the tablet on the desk.

"Look at this."

Leo put down his pen and looked at the screen.

The article was long, but it only took him a few glances to grasp the main point.

The author was very professional.

Not only had they deciphered the dense, difficult bill, but they had also pinpointed the core of the deal between Leo and Morganfield—using technical barriers to ensure a targeted award.

"Where is this article spreading now?" Leo asked calmly.

"That’s the most suspicious part."

Sarah’s fingers swiped across the screen, pulling up a data analysis chart from the backend.

"The mainstream media—newspapers and TV stations—haven’t reported on it at all. It’s not even getting much traction on public forums like X and Facebook."

Sarah pointed to a steep, rising red curve.

"It’s only going viral in specific circles. University forums, left-wing Union groups, radical political subreddits."

"Its distribution curve is too perfect."

Sarah’s voice was strained.

"This isn’t organic. Organic growth has peaks and troughs, it has noise. But this... this is a straight line up. Someone bought algorithmic recommendations, the kind based on targeted, user-profile-based pushes."

"They only want your supporters to see it."

"They want to implode us from within."

Ethan Hawke, who had been in the office the whole time, took the tablet and read the article carefully.

His brow furrowed deeper and deeper. He put down the tablet, his gaze turning eastward.

"Harrisburg," Ethan spat out the name.

"Aston Monroe."

"Only he has the motive and the means," Ethan said with conviction. "Murphy has too much momentum right now. Monroe’s team must be getting antsy."

"Monroe sees it clearly. The core of Murphy’s entire campaign right now is Pittsburgh. His Rust Belt New Deal, his five-hundred-million-US Dollar bond, all his political capital—it’s all riding on this city, and it’s all riding on you."