The rain fell in cold, relentless sheets, tapping against windows and street signs like skeletal fingers. Tsubaki Town had always been grey in the rain, but tonight, the clouds pressed low and heavy, suffocating the distant hills and rooftops in mist. The streetlights flickered as if the storm itself wanted darkness to settle faster.

Down a narrow alley, half-buried behind overgrown hedges and vines, stood an abandoned building — the forgotten heart of the town's whispers. Its wooden facade sagged with rot, and broken glass glittered along the ground like tiny, sinister diamonds. Faded, peeling letters still clung desperately to the sign above the entrance:

THE HOUSE OF MIRRORS

Most avoided it. Some spoke of it in hushed tones. And a few, foolish or desperate, had entered, chasing thrills or answers. None returned unchanged.

They called it a legend. A story to scare children. But in Tsubaki Town, stories often breathed in the dark.

If you see your reflection smile before you do… run.

It was a cruel rhyme passed between students, scrawled on bathroom stalls, whispered at sleepovers. Most laughed it off. But not Aoi.

She stood beneath the creaking school gates the next morning, the rain reduced to a cold drizzle. Her black hair clung to her cheeks, and dark circles rimmed her tired eyes. The uniform hung slightly loose on her frame — a new student’s awkward armor against the stares of strangers.

Tsubaki High loomed ahead, old bricks stained with moss, windows streaked with condensation. Groups of students passed by, laughing, pushing, whispering. Aoi kept her gaze low, clutching the strap of her schoolbag.

The whispers followed her anyway.

"That’s the new girl… the one whose brother…"

"Shut up! Don’t talk about that—"

The words bled together in the fog of her mind. They didn’t matter. Only one thing mattered now.

Finding him.

Aoi’s brother, Haru, vanished three weeks ago. The last place anyone saw him? The House of Mirrors. He went in after a dare, chasing urban legends like he always did. But this time… the legend chased back.

Her fingers trembled at her side, nails pressing into her palm until the sting grounded her. She crossed the courtyard, eyes fixed ahead.

In class, she sat alone by the window. The sky outside hung low with clouds, rain dripping down the glass in crooked trails. The teacher's voice faded into background noise.

Her reflection stared back at her from the windowpane.

She frowned. Her lips didn’t move — yet the reflection lingered, eyes wide, lips curling into a slow, deliberate smile.

Her chest tightened.

A blink. The reflection returned to normal, copying her expression with perfect, obedient timing.

A voice broke her haze.

"You’ve heard the stories, right?" A boy leaned against her desk, casual, curious. His uniform was rumpled, hair sticking out messily. His name tag read Yuto.

He smirked. "The House of Mirrors. They say your reflection… smiles before you do."

Aoi’s eyes locked onto his, the cold edges of her fear sharpening into resolve.

"It already did," she replied softly, her voice steady as the storm outside.

Yuto’s grin faltered, curiosity flickering to unease.

The reflection in the window watched them both. And behind its glassy surface, the faintest, impossible smile remained.

The town never truly woke, even in daylight. Tsubaki’s streets lay under a permanent haze of grey — clouds too heavy, sun too distant, as if the sky itself had forgotten how to part. Cracked sidewalks and crooked telephone poles stretched endlessly, like they’d given up standing straight after years of sagging silence.

The school bell rang, sharp and hollow.

Aoi kept her eyes on her notebook as the other students filed out of the classroom in noisy groups. Yuto stayed by her desk, tapping his fingers rhythmically against the edge.

"You serious?" he asked finally, cocking his head, eyes narrowed. "You saw it?"

Aoi didn’t answer immediately. Her hand hovered over the page, the pencil unmoving. The words from earlier echoed in her head, bitter as they were familiar: It already did.

Yuto let out a short breath, more amused than shocked. "People talk, you know. The mirrors? They mess with your head. Lights, angles, optical illusions… Same old junk."

He tried to laugh, but his voice cracked at the end.

Aoi closed her notebook, her movements precise, almost rehearsed.

"My brother thought it was junk too," she said. Her voice was quiet, but it cut through the air like glass. "Now no one can find him."

The amusement drained from Yuto’s face.

A heavy pause settled between them, filled only by the faint rumble of distant thunder and the murmur of other students in the hall. Rain ticked softly against the windows — steady, insistent.

Yuto shifted his weight awkwardly, then leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "You wanna find him? The House of Mirrors… you really gonna go?"

Aoi stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder. Her reflection in the glass beside her followed — but for half a heartbeat, its eyes lagged behind, staring blankly at Yuto.

She clenched her fists, ignoring the chill creeping down her spine.

"I’m going tonight."

The abandoned part of town waited like an open mouth, rows of darkened windows and rusting metal stretching into shadow. The House of Mirrors stood crooked at the edge of it all — forgotten by officials, remembered only in fear.

The building was worse up close.

Wood rotted away at the edges. The entrance sagged under its own weight. A single, broken mirror leaned near the doorway, its surface splintered into jagged fragments.

Aoi approached, rain slicking her hair to her cheeks. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, louder with each step.

Behind her, Yuto's footsteps slowed. His earlier bravado had drained away, leaving behind raw uncertainty.

"You sure about this?" His voice wavered. "We could… I dunno… not?"

Aoi didn’t look back.

"I’ve already seen the smile," she replied flatly. "I can’t run anymore."

She stepped inside.

The floorboards groaned beneath her shoes, ancient and waterlogged. The air stank of mildew and dust, heavy with something metallic underneath — the sour tang of rust… or old blood.

Mirrors lined the walls, cracked, dirtied with years of grime, yet eerily reflective beneath the grime. Her own face stared back a hundred times over, distorted and multiplied.

Yuto hovered near the entrance, biting his lip. "People say… reflections move on their own in here. That’s what the dare's about. Film it, prove it’s fake, walk away."

Aoi scanned the mirrored hallway, her pulse quickening. Her brother's voice echoed in her memory — teasing, fearless. He had laughed off the warnings too.

The mirrors seemed to press closer, as if the walls themselves leaned in to listen.

A faint smile flickered across one of the reflections — a heartbeat before Aoi's face even twitched.

Her breath hitched. Her real face remained frozen… but the reflection’s lips curled wider, impossibly so, exposing far too many teeth.

There it is again…

The rules of glass, of reality, no longer applied here.

Behind her, Yuto cursed under his breath, his phone trembling in his grip as he hit record.

"Okay… okay… just film the smile, prove it’s staged, we’re done…"

But Aoi’s gaze locked onto the distorted face in the mirror — and the reflection's eyes, sharp and hungry, stared past her.

It wasn’t smiling at her.

It was smiling at someone else, deeper in the hall.

A flicker of movement beyond the mirrors — a shape, tall and familiar.

Aoi's voice cracked as she whispered, "Haru…?"

Her brother's silhouette beckoned from the shadows of the mirror maze.

The reflection's smile widened unnaturally, and the first whisper of laughter — high-pitched, hollow, and childlike — trickled through the air.

The hunt had begun.

The rain had quieted to a faint whisper outside, but within the House of Mirrors, every sound — every creak, every drip of water — seemed amplified. The building's walls groaned under their own weight, and the mirrors, once merely warped glass, now loomed like portals to something unspeakable.

Aoi's footsteps echoed down the narrow hall as she moved cautiously forward. Her reflection followed beside her, multiplied dozens of times in the filthy mirrors. Each version of herself drifted slightly behind the real movement, like they lagged just a second too long.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Behind her, Yuto's phone light bobbed in the gloom. His breath came in uneven bursts, misting the air.

"Aoi…" he whispered, barely loud enough to break the suffocating quiet. "Tell me you saw that. Tell me your reflection—"

"I saw it," she cut in, her voice flat. She kept moving. Her eyes never left the mirrors.

The smile she'd seen — that grotesque, impossible grin — still burned behind her eyes.

They turned a corner, the walls pressing in tighter. The mirrors along this stretch were cleaner, less cracked, reflecting their faces with unsettling clarity. But in the distance, faint distortions twisted the reflections. Shadows bent in ways the walls didn’t allow.

Yuto shuffled beside her, trying to keep his bravado intact. "This… is probably just an old trick. Lights, glass angles… You know those illusion tunnels at amusement parks? This place's just old and—"

A whisper cut through his sentence.

Both froze.

It wasn’t Yuto's voice. It wasn’t Aoi's.

It came from deeper in the hall. Faint. Familiar.

"Aoi…"

Her heart seized. Her brother’s voice — unmistakable, distorted by layers of glass and space.

Without thinking, Aoi surged forward, ignoring Yuto’s startled protest.

"Haru?" she called, the word trembling on her tongue.

"Aoi… help me…"

It came again, fractured like it was bouncing off a hundred mirrored surfaces. The hallway twisted unnaturally as she ran, the reflections on either side lagging further behind, some staring directly at her even when she wasn’t facing them.

The sound of her footsteps faltered as the floor beneath her warped, wood bending in impossible curves. Her reflection's face snapped back into focus — but it wasn’t following her anymore.

It was smiling again.

No… they were all smiling now.

Dozens of faces, identical to hers, pressed against the glass from the inside. Their mouths curled too wide, exposing rows of jagged, needle-like teeth. Their eyes — dark, hollow — gleamed with hunger.

She stumbled backward into Yuto, who had finally caught up, his face pale and drenched in sweat.

"This isn’t a trick…" he whispered, eyes darting between the grinning reflections. "This is—"

A loud crack interrupted him.

The mirror nearest them splintered. The glass fractured like spiderwebs, yet the smiling face inside remained intact — pressing closer, palms flattening against the inner surface of the mirror.

Aoi's pulse roared in her ears.

From deep within the maze, her brother's voice echoed one last time — quieter, weaker, like it was being drowned beneath glass.

"Don’t… trust… the reflections…"

The floor beneath them groaned.

The reflections began to move — crawling, sliding, peeling themselves away from the mirrored surfaces like shadows coming to life.

Yuto grabbed her wrist. His bravado was gone now — replaced with raw, animal panic. "We need to leave. Now."

But Aoi's gaze stayed fixed on one reflection — slightly taller, older, familiar. Haru’s face stared back at her, his eyes filled with desperation… but something was wrong.

His reflection was smiling too.