“The Mirror Lies Too “

The silence in the hospital room was thicker than smoke. The air itself felt heavier, poisoned with secrets and stares that could strip skin off bones.

Anne sat stiffly on the bed, her hands clenched around the hem of the silk hospital robe. Her throat was dry, her heart thundering. She was surrounded by strangers—monsters in designer clothing—yet they all called her by one name:

Anna.

No matter how many times she denied it, screamed it, cried it—they refused to hear her.

“You really don’t remember?” Aunt Mary asked, voice low, eyes scanning her like she was a ticking bomb.

Anne shook her head. “I told you. I’m not her.”

Yerin scoffed from the side, her arms crossed. “Right. And I’m Beyoncé.”

“I remember Nigeria,” Anne said, staring at her trembling hands. “I remember my mother dying. I remember vomiting blood. I remember the forest… the light… and then…”

The memories swirled.

Flash.

A girl ,Anne. Skinny. Sick. Coughing violently into a stained handkerchief in her father’s old room. A cracked mirror, her favorite K-drama playing softly on her brother’s old phone.

Flash.

Screams. The diagnosis. Stage 4 stomach cancer. Her father breaking. Her neighbors whispering. Her friends pulling away. A cruel world growing colder.

Flash.

The forest. So green it glowed. Birds singing. Flowers that smelled like something not of this Earth. And the light.

So warm. So bright. She stepped in.

And then blackness.

Tears streamed down Anne’s cheeks. She snapped back to the room, her breath ragged.

“You tried to jump,” Seo Yerin sneered suddenly, folding her arms. “You overdosed on pills, locked yourself in the bathroom, and almost ruined everything. But then again, that’s what you do best, Anna. Ruin things.”

Anne looked up, terrified. “I didn’t—! That wasn’t me! I’m not—!”

“Enough!” snapped Kim Do-hwan.

Her cries went ignored.

Aunt Mary stood quietly, but her silence now felt different. There was… guilt in it. Maybe even doubt.

“She could’ve died,” Dr Min jae-hyun muttered. “And you people are still acting like she’s the victim.”

“I did die…” Anne whispered, almost to herself. “I died in that forest.”

A beat of silence.

Then

A hand touched her shoulder.

Dr. Min Jae-hyun.

Her uncle. Her quiet savior.

He knelt before her, cupping her face gently. His eyes were glassy. Full of storms.

“You remember something?” he asked softly.

Anne nodded through her tears. “Everything but her life.”

Dr. Jae-hyun’s face twisted. He pulled her into his arms.

And Anne broke.

The sobs that escaped her were feral—noisy, shaking, ripped from the deepest parts of her soul. Her body crumbled into his chest as she cried for the mother she lost, the life that was stolen, and the nightmare she woke into.

Her pain was a sound of its own.

So heavy, so real… that even Kim Seokjin, the ice-hearted king himself, turned his face away and blinked back silent tears.

She felt doomed. But in that single moment—in her uncle’s arms, for just a flicker of time,she felt seen.

The silence that followed was thick and uneasy.

“She’s acting,” Yerin hissed, trying to regain control. “She’s just playing victim again. She knows what she did.”

But Jae-hyun stood, gently laying Anne back on her pillows.

His voice was calm. Controlled. But each word was a bullet.

“Enough. If anyone here says another word, I will make sure every skeleton in this family’s closet is dragged into the sun.”

Everyone froze.

Jae-hyun didn’t shout.

He didn’t accuse.

But his eyes—the way they burned into each of them,said everything.

He knew.

Maybe he couldn’t prove it. Maybe he didn’t have the tapes, or the drugs, or the camera footage. But he knew. And now, so did they.

Yerin took a shaky step back. Ji Joe looked away. The uncles said nothing.

Kim Seokjin cleared his throat. “Everyone… out.”

They didn’t argue.

He turned to one of the guards near the door.

“Call Hyunseo,” he said. “Now.”

A few minutes later, the door opened again.

And he walked in.

Hyunseo.

Black suit. Cold eyes. Quiet rage in every step.

Her bodyguard.

Tall. Sharp-jawed. A scar beneath his left eye. He stood by the door like a statue. Until Kim Seokjin nodded.

“Protect her. No one else gets in.”

“Yes, Chairman,” Hyunseo said.

Anne stared at him, eyes red and wide.

Seokjin approached her bed, this time with less ice, more fragility. “We don’t understand what’s happened to you… but you’re my granddaughter. And no matter what you remember, you’re home.”

She didn’t reply.

He touched her hand, then left.

Dr. Jae-hyun gave her a light sedative. “Rest, my little firefly. I’m here.”

She drifted into sleep, chest still hiccupping with silent sobs.

As the room cleared, only Hyunseo remained.

He walked to her bedside. He looked down at the sleeping girl—so delicate, so broken.

And his fists clenched.

He remembered it all.

That night.

The screaming.

The drinks spiked.

The cousins laughing.