Once there was a girl named Elsie, who received a curious letter — not by post, but through the shimmering scroll of her inbox . It was from a prince , exiled and alone, trapped with seventeen million dollars and no one to trust. Moved by noble compassion (and mild curiosity), Elsie replied with her full name, bank details, and a JPEG of her cat 🐈 He seemed so polite , she later said. He even used full sentences — none of that lol nonsense. But alas! The moment she clicked Send , her screen flickered. Her icons rearranged themselves. Her fonts turned to Comic Sans. And deep within the motherboard, a voice whispered, Your inheritance is processing... — like waiting for a completion with a progress bar stuck at 98% endlessly. Oh, let's make it as a theatrical description — tis like waiting at the edge of salvation, whilst the bar of progress halts; ninety-eight percent, ever taunting, never moving, a silent sentinel of false hope 🎭 Elsie was never seen o...