Wan ran, his feet pounding against the cracked stone floor of the mirror maze. His ragged breath echoed in the endless hallways, blending with the mocking laughter that chased him.
"Freak… Monster…" The words twisted through the air, overlapping, suffocating.
The mirrored surfaces rippled with distorted images of his past—the faces of classmates, the bodies of the creatures he had hurt, his own face flickering with every vile expression he feared becoming. This place knew him. It knew everything about him.
He turned another corner, only to be met with another reflection of himself—his mirrored double grinning maliciously, eyes black and lifeless.
Wan couldn't stand it anymore. He pivoted sharply and sprinted through the corridor, desperate for any escape. His legs burned, his lungs ached, but stopping wasn't an option. Every corner, every path led to another reflection of his worst self.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the maze shifted—the ground tilted beneath him, the mirrors dissolving into dust. He stumbled forward, breath hitching, and found himself standing in an open clearing.
Wan's heart sank as he looked ahead.
It was the playground again—the same one from earlier. The swings dangled, still and rusted. The merry-go-round sat half-buried in the cracked ground. The familiar structures that had once been part of his childhood now seemed like monuments to his failure.
How am I back here? He'd shattered the mirrors. He thought he had escaped this place. But here it was again—waiting for him.
Wan's hands trembled. He wasn't getting out. There was no way out.
Then the laughter returned—soft at first, carried on a nonexistent breeze, before swelling into a crescendo that surrounded him from every direction. Wan turned, and they emerged from the shadows again: the grotesque, exaggerated figures of his childhood bullies.
Ryan was at the front, his grin too wide, his eyes too bright. "Kitten killer!" he jeered, his voice shrill and full of malice.
Wan's throat tightened, his pulse racing in his ears.
"Freak."
"Monster."
"You'll never be anything else."
The voices drilled into his skull, louder and louder, until Wan fell to his knees, clutching his head. "It's not real!" he screamed. "It's not real!"
But the world didn't care. The figures closed in, their faces splitting open in grotesque grins, revealing rows of jagged, rotting teeth.
Wan squeezed his eyes shut, every muscle in his body tightening as the voices swirled around him. It's not real. It's not real.
And then, just like that, everything stopped.
The figures vanished. The air grew still.
When Wan opened his eyes, the playground was gone. He was alone again—standing on cracked stone, surrounded by nothing but silence.
Or so he thought.