Li An stumbled back, her pulse racing, the shadows around her pressing in with relentless force. The figure—the twisted reflection of herself—was gone, but its words lingered in the air, heavy and suffocating. We're all the same. Trapped in this web you can't escape. The echo of that haunting voice reverberated in her mind, drowning out everything else.
She struggled to stand, her legs shaky beneath her, but the weight of the room—the oppressive darkness—made it difficult to focus. The walls felt as though they were closing in, the air thick with an invisible pressure. The hum from earlier returned, vibrating beneath the floorboards, its source unknown but undeniable.
It was like the house itself had become alive—breathing, shifting, watching.
Her head throbbed, a painful reminder of the mental assault she had just endured. The figure, that twisted mirror image of herself, had been a terrifying manifestation of her own fears, doubts, and insecurities. But worse than that—worse than the fear of facing her inner darkness—was the knowledge that it was all part of a larger game. A trap, carefully constructed and set, its strings pulled by some unseen hand.
You can't escape, the reflection had said. The truth will consume you.
The words gnawed at her as she slowly began to move again, despite her fear. She had to keep going. There was no other choice. If she stopped now, if she turned back, she would lose herself. She would lose Zhang Xian and everything she had come here for.
The door she had entered through had vanished, swallowed up by the shifting shadows. In its place was nothing—only the endless stretch of darkness. Li An reached out, her hand trembling as it grazed the wall beside her. The coldness of it seeped into her skin, and for a moment, she felt the distinct sensation that the wall was moving beneath her fingertips. It was alive. She was sure of it.
She turned, every sense heightened, every instinct screaming for her to run, but there was no place to run to. The room was a maze, its boundaries invisible, its edges blurred, as though the very structure of the building had been warped by some dark force.
She pressed forward, each step deliberate, each footfall echoing unnervingly in the vast emptiness around her. The hum, that dreadful vibration in the air, grew louder, and the walls seemed to close in even tighter. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breath shallow. She had to find an exit. She had to—
Suddenly, a sound—a faint whisper—cut through the silence, like the rustle of fabric. It was followed by another, and then another. The whispers were soft, too soft to make out, but they were unmistakable. Someone—or something—was speaking.
Li An froze, her blood running cold. The whispers weren't coming from any direction in particular. They seemed to be all around her, curling through the air like tendrils, snaking into her mind. She strained her ears, trying to decipher the words, but they were indecipherable, broken and fragmented.
But then, through the dissonant murmur, she heard something clear—her name.
"Li An."
The voice was low, almost a hiss, and yet it held an undeniable sense of familiarity. She turned sharply, her heart leaping into her throat. But there was no one. Only the swirling darkness and the endless rows of mirrors, their surfaces reflecting nothing but the oppressive void.
Her pulse quickened, and for a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of movement—something, or someone, darting out of the corner of her eye. She spun toward it, but once again, there was nothing there.
Her mind was playing tricks on her. The isolation, the fear, the pressure—it was all building to a point where reality itself seemed to bend and twist around her. She was losing her grip. She had to stay focused.
But then she heard it again.
"Li An."
This time, the voice was clearer—closer. It was coming from the far side of the room, from behind one of the mirrors. Without thinking, Li An rushed toward it, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She had to know who—or what—was calling her name. Was it Zhang Xian? Had he somehow found a way to reach her from beyond this twisted place? Or was it something far more sinister?
She stopped before the mirror, staring into its dark, still surface. The reflection stared back at her, but it wasn't the Li An she knew. The woman in the glass was different—her features slightly distorted, her expression hollow. Her eyes, however, were wide, terrified, and yet, they locked onto Li An with an intensity that made her skin crawl.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. The reflection seemed to be waiting, watching her with a silent, unblinking gaze.
Then, slowly, the reflection's lips parted.
"You shouldn't be here," it whispered, its voice a strange echo of her own.
Li An recoiled, her heart thudding in her chest. She felt a surge of panic rise up in her throat, but she forced it down. She had to stay calm. The reflection was just a trick of the mind. Just another part of the game. She had to resist, had to push through the fear.
But the reflection continued to speak, its words slithering through the air.
"You cannot outrun it. The darkness inside you is already awake. It has always been awake."
Li An's breath caught in her throat. The reflection's words cut through her, sharp and chilling, like a blade to the heart. The darkness inside her? Was that what the figure had meant? Was this place, this nightmare, feeding on her own fears and doubts? Was the truth really something she couldn't escape from?
The reflection's expression twisted into a grim smile.
"You've already made your choice," it said softly. "There is no turning back now."
A cold shiver ran down Li An's spine. The voice, the reflection—it all felt too real. Too much like the truth. But she couldn't allow herself to believe it. She couldn't let it control her. She had to resist.
She stepped away from the mirror, her legs unsteady, but determination flooding her veins. She couldn't give in. She couldn't let whatever was behind this place win.
And then, as if to confirm her deepest fear, the whisper came again, louder, stronger than before. The walls groaned, the floor beneath her feet trembled, and the dark figures in the mirrors seemed to stretch toward her, as if they were reaching out, trying to drag her back.
"You can't escape," the voice hissed. "Not anymore."