“Your account will be suspended. Verify now.”
“Suspended...my account?”
As she understood more words, her fear became more specific. If the device she used here stopped working, she might lose contact with the doctor. She might not even be able to search for a way home.
Her hand almost slipped out of the sleeve of her pink mission jacket. The easy-to-move-in clothes she had borrowed from the doctor made her feel a little braver than yesterday. But changing clothes did not give her a qualification. The fingertips taking this test were just as cold as they had been the day before.
Seeing that Mana’s hand had stopped, the doctor spoke.
There was no hurry in his voice.
“Mana, is it safe to trust whoever sent this email? What do you think?”
“The logo is the same as in yesterday’s training material and this official information...”
She stopped herself mid-sentence. Yesterday, the doctor had been a familiar face. But then he had actually helped her, talked with her at his house, and told her how much he knew. The computer-like window in front of her was only displaying the same logo.
“May I click the downward arrow to the right of ‘Sender details’? I won’t use the link in the message.”
The doctor nodded.
When Mana clicked that arrow, the sender’s email address appeared beneath the display name.
support@cyber1in.example
Mana opened the verified official information the doctor had given her separately a little earlier. It said cyberlin.example.
They looked identical.
The second time, they still looked identical.
A “Time left to verify” display appeared at the top right of the warning, and the remaining seconds began to count down. Right now. Before the deadline. Before it was too late. The words beat against her shoulders like rain.
“At this rate, I won’t make the deadline shown there. What should I do?”
“Who set that deadline?”
Mana held her breath, then slowly let it out. She placed the domain to the right of the @ in the email address beside the domain in the official information. Following them with her finger, one character at a time, she found that the narrow sixth character was different.
“The official information has a lowercase l. The email has...the digit 1.”
The edge of the window split a little.
Black smoke showed beneath the friendly emblem. It tried to pull back at once, but Mana did not look away.
Four choices appeared beside the warning.
“B. I won’t use the email’s link. I’ll check through an entry point I already know I can trust.”
“Why that choice?”
“Logos and names can be copied. The domain is different, and asking the person behind this same email whether they’re genuine doesn’t verify who they are.”