Reflections That Don’t Belong

Yiran didn't stop walking until she reached her room.

She didn't rush.

Didn't run.

But every step was too careful, too measured.

Like she was still being watched.

The moment she reached her door, she pushed it open and stepped inside.

Then—she shut it.

Softly. Controlled.

But her fingers lingered against the polished wood, just for a second longer than necessary.

As if she was waiting for something.

Something—or someone—to knock.

Nothing came.

The hallway outside remained still.

Silent.

Normal.

She exhaled lightly.

It's over.

She turned, stepping further into the room.

The soft glow of the bedside lamp painted everything in warm light. The silk curtains barely shifted from the night breeze outside.

Everything looked the same.

No shadows waiting in the corners.

No whispers curling through the air.

No signs that anything had ever followed her at all.

Her chest rose and fell in a slow breath.

Maybe she had imagined it.

Maybe she had—

Then she looked at the mirror.

And her pulse stopped.

Because her reflection—

Wasn't facing the right way.

Yiran's breath caught.

Her reflection—was wrong.

The moment she had turned toward the mirror, she had expected to see herself.

And she did.

But not completely.

Something felt… off.

She lifted her hand—slow, testing.

The reflection moved.

But—

Half a second too late.

Her fingers curled slightly, her pulse spiking.

She tried again.

This time, she raised her arm higher, tilting her head just slightly to the side.

The reflection followed.

But again—too slow.

Like it was hesitating.

Like it was deciding whether to move at all.

A chill curled down her spine.

This wasn't her imagination.

It wasn't a trick of the light.

Her reflection—

Wasn't hers.

Her breathing shallowed.

Then—

It stopped.

The reflection stood still.

Frozen.

Yiran took a small step back.

Her reflection didn't.

It just stood there.

Still.

Watching.

And then—it smiled.

Yiran's stomach twisted.

Her reflection was smiling.

She wasn't.

Her lips were parted slightly, breath uneven, her expression locked in cold shock.

But the Yiran in the mirror—

She was smiling.

Slow. Subtle.

Wrong.

Yiran's fingers curled, her pulse slamming against her ribs.

Move.

She took a slow step back.

The reflection didn't.

It just stood there.

Still.

Smiling.

Yiran's breath hitched.

Her body was tense, rigid, but she forced herself to move again.

Another step.

Then another.

Her reflection didn't follow.

Instead—

It took a step forward.

Yiran's blood ran cold.

She wasn't moving closer to the mirror.

But the thing inside it—

It was moving closer to her.

The smile widened.

Slow. Too slow.

Like it was stretching something that had never learned how to smile before.

Yiran's throat went dry.

The reflection took another step.

And then—it lifted a hand.

Fingers raised—

But not in a wave.

Not in a mirror image of her own.

The fingers pressed softly against the other side of the glass.

Testing it.

Feeling for something.

Then, with deliberate slowness—

It pushed.

Yiran stumbled back.

Her pulse slammed against her ribs, her breath caught between fear and disbelief.

This isn't real.

It couldn't be.

And yet—

The thing in the mirror was still moving.

It pressed its palm against the glass.

Testing.

Not pushing hard.

Just enough to see if it would give.

And then—it did.

The glass didn't crack.

Didn't shatter.

It bent.

Like water rippling at the surface of a pond.

Yiran's stomach twisted.

She could see her reflection's fingers, could see the way the glass stretched under its touch.

Like it was no longer solid.

Like a barrier was thinning.

Her body screamed at her to run.

To turn and leave before it was too late.

But she couldn't move.

Couldn't breathe.

Couldn't think.

Because then—

It stopped smiling.

Its lips relaxed, the eerie, stretched grin vanishing.

For the first time, its expression mirrored hers exactly.

Cold.

Blank.

Terrified.

And then—

It whispered.

The voice was her own.

But wrong.

"…Let me out."

"…Let me out."

The whisper coiled in Yiran's ears.

Her own voice.

But not hers.

The thing in the mirror wasn't smiling anymore.

It wasn't hesitating.

Its fingers pressed harder against the glass, and this time—

The surface gave.

A ripple spread outward from its palm.

Deep. Unnatural.

Like a reflection on water—except the water was solid.

Yiran's stomach twisted.

She took another step back, but her reflection didn't.

It just stared at her.

And then—it pushed harder.

This time, the glass bulged outward.

Not just bending.

Not just shifting.

It was coming through.

Yiran's breath locked in her throat.

She saw it happen—

The reflection's fingers pressing past the surface.

Not like breaking glass.

Not like stepping through a doorway.

Like it was slipping through something that had never meant to be opened.

And as the first fingertip breached the air, color bled from it—

No longer a reflection.

No longer glass.

Something real.

Something that should never be real.

The breath she had been holding finally slipped from her lips.

And in that moment—

The thing in the mirror moved faster.