The Mirror That Shouldn't Exist
Chapter 2: The Mirror That Shouldn't Exist
> "Some mirrors don't reflect.
They remember."
— Fragment found inside a broken page
---
The pen touched paper.
And something inside the room exhaled.
Not air.
A presence.
He wasn't alone anymore.
---
The notebook began to write with him — not after him.
Letters formed on their own, between his thoughts, like a second mind hidden inside the ink.
The words wrote:
> ❝Chapter 2: The Mirror That Shouldn't Exist❞
And beneath it… a sketch.
Rough. Childlike.
A drawing of a room that had no doors, only walls made of mirrors.
He blinked—
And he was there.
---
The mirrors towered around him. Endless. Quiet. Cold.
Each one showed a different version of himself.
Some smiling.
Some bleeding.
Some looking directly at him — even when he turned away.
He stepped forward.
And all the reflections stepped back.
Except one.
The one directly ahead.
It didn't move.
It didn't mimic.
It only whispered:
> "You weren't supposed to remember this place."
Ranzō clenched his fists.
The notebook was still in his hand — even here.
He opened it.
The pages were blank again.
Then—
A single sentence burned into the paper:
> ❝Erase what sees you. Or it will write you back.❞
He looked up.
The reflection was now smiling.
Blood trickled from its eyes like ink bleeding through forgotten thoughts.
> "You gave me your name once," it said.
> "Now I'll give you mine."
Suddenly, his reflection reached through the glass.
No sound.
Only the crack of reality splitting like thin ice under memory.
---
He ran.
But in a place made of mirrors, there is no direction.
Only repetition.
Until you stop being the original.
---
The last thing he saw before the world folded inward:
> His own face,
holding the pen,
and writing him out.
---
> Some mirrors don't break.
They absorb.
And what they keep… writes its own story.