Chapter 5_Shadows Behind The Glass

The silence inside the House of Mirrors had weight.

It pressed down like fog, curling into the cracks between the floorboards, leaking through the warped corners of the ceiling. Every shallow breath Aoi took seemed too loud, too sharp, as though the mirrors themselves were listening.

Yuto hovered just behind her, flashlight flickering weakly in his hand. The low battery warning on his screen glowed a sickly red, casting faint light onto his face. His eyes darted from mirror to mirror, his jaw clenched so tightly she could almost hear his teeth grinding.

The reflections on the walls — their reflections — hadn't moved since the last distortion. But their smiles remained, stretched unnaturally, glassy eyes wide and hungry.

Aoi let her gaze travel along the corridor.

Countless duplicates stared back at her — faintly off, their expressions slack but their mouths curling upward into identical, impossible grins. The further down the hall, the more warped the faces became: noses elongated, mouths splitting at the corners, some reflections showing rows of teeth too jagged, too sharp.

But the mirrors closer to them… those still mimicked reality, for now.

Her brother’s reflection had vanished.

The familiar silhouette, tall and lean, eyes dark with something beyond recognition, was gone from the far end of the hall. Only fragments of broken glass remained, scattered across the warped wooden floor like crystal bones.

Yuto’s whisper cracked through the quiet like a snapped twig.

"We should… we should turn around," he muttered, voice low, fraying at the edges. "We can come back, but… we can’t stay in here. You feel it, right?"

Aoi didn’t answer immediately. Her pulse throbbed behind her ears, matching the faint tapping sound — like fingertips drumming against glass — echoing faintly from somewhere deeper inside.

She swallowed hard, forcing her words steady.

"I’m not leaving without answers."

Yuto’s flashlight flickered again. The battery icon drained another notch.

"And if your brother’s not… what if he’s not here? What if—"

"He’s here."

Her voice, quieter now, didn’t leave room for argument.

She turned slightly, watching the mirrors again. Her reflection’s head tilted in unison, almost perfectly — but almost wasn’t good enough.

A beat delayed. A second too long.

The reflection’s eyes locked onto hers with eerie precision, the smile curling slightly wider before snapping back into blank neutrality.

Her stomach twisted.

They were learning. Watching. Mimicking — but imperfectly. A glitch in their puppetry.

The faint tapping continued, rhythmic, like fingernails against glass.