Chapter 2_The Dare

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…?"