Li An staggered backward, her hand flying to her chest as if to stop her heart from leaping out of her throat. Her breath came in erratic gasps, each inhale sharp and stifled, as though the air itself had turned toxic. She could still hear his voice—Zhang Xian's voice—echoing in her mind, each word a dagger sinking deeper into her conscience.
"You did this to me."
The words were like a chant, repeating over and over, louder now, more insistent. She couldn't escape them. She couldn't escape him.
No... Her mind screamed, trying to block out the truth, but the truth had already sunk its claws into her heart. Zhang Xian's accusation hung in the air like a heavy fog, suffocating her, drowning her in guilt.
She turned away from the mirror, desperately trying to find something—anything—to pull her back to reality. The walls around her felt like they were closing in, bending and shifting like the world was made of soft clay. The shadows stretched and writhed, taking on forms that taunted her, mocking her with her deepest fears.
A distant, hollow laugh echoed through the space. It wasn't human. It wasn't even alive. It was the sound of something ancient, something primal, something that had been waiting for this moment.
Li An clenched her fists, trying to control the panic that threatened to consume her. She had to think. She had to do something. The only way out of this was to keep moving. To keep searching. She couldn't let herself be broken, not now.
But the guilt weighed on her like a physical burden, making it impossible to breathe. The walls of the house seemed to lean in closer, the mirrors reflecting not just her image, but the terrible truth she had been running from.
She had always known. She had always known this was where things were heading.
It wasn't just Zhang Xian who was trapped in this place. It was her too. They were both prisoners—prisoners of the house, of their choices, of the secrets they had kept hidden from each other. She had dragged him into this nightmare, and now, as the truth clawed at her from all directions, she wondered if she had already lost him. If there was any way to save him.
The laughter grew louder, louder, until it became unbearable. It reverberated in her skull, echoing through her very bones, until she could feel it inside her, crawling beneath her skin. She closed her eyes, trying to block it out, but the sound continued, relentless, mocking her with her own failures.
"You can't run away from this."
The voice was familiar now. Not just a whisper anymore, but something more—something solid. It was her own voice, but twisted, distorted, like a reflection in a cracked mirror.
The ground beneath her feet shifted, and for a moment, she felt as though she were falling, tumbling into an abyss of her own making. Her head spun, nausea rising in her throat as the world tilted.
Her hands pressed against her ears, trying to silence the voice, but it was inside her now, echoing in her mind, refusing to leave.
"You are as much a part of this darkness as the walls themselves. You can never escape it."
Her heart beat faster, panic surging through her veins. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. Her vision blurred as the room spun around her, and then—just when she thought she couldn't take it anymore—there was a sharp, sudden silence.
Everything stopped.
Li An stood frozen, her heart pounding in her chest as the oppressive weight lifted, just for a moment. The mirrors around her, once dark and twisted, now shimmered with a strange, unnatural light. For a fleeting instant, they didn't reflect her fear or her guilt—they reflected something else.
An image.
A face.
Zhang Xian's face.
It was fleeting, just a momentary flash, but it was enough to pull her from the edge of madness. She saw his face clearly now, his eyes filled with something she couldn't place—a mixture of desperation and determination. It was as if he was reaching out to her, trying to tell her something.
He's still out there, she thought, the hope stirring deep within her. He's still alive. And I have to find him.
But just as quickly as the image appeared, it vanished, replaced by the same dark reflection of herself. The room closed in again, the air thick with the whispers and laughter. The mirrors returned to their distorted, mocking images.
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't escape the truth.
The voice came again, now louder than before, wrapping around her, suffocating her with its venom.
"You cannot save him. You cannot save yourself. The truth is inescapable. It is you."
Li An's legs wobbled beneath her, but she forced herself to stand. She couldn't let it control her. She couldn't let this place break her, not now, not when she was so close to finding him.
The dark laughter continued to swirl around her, the walls of the house vibrating with the malevolent energy that seemed to pulse through the air. The very floor beneath her feet felt alive, as if it were sinking into a deeper, darker void.
She had to keep going.
She had to find Zhang Xian.
But as she stepped forward, a sudden coldness washed over her, sharp and biting, like ice against her skin. It wasn't the air. It was something else. Something... more.
In the reflection of the nearest mirror, she saw herself, standing there in the room, but it wasn't her anymore. The woman in the mirror—her reflection—was pale, her eyes sunken, her face twisted with a grotesque expression of terror.
"You can never leave," the reflection whispered.
And then, in the reflection, Li An saw something else. A dark figure, standing behind her.
It was Zhang Xian.
But his face was obscured by shadow, his body contorted and broken, as though he had been twisted by some invisible force.
The image of him reached out a hand toward her, but it wasn't to save her. It was to drag her down, into the darkness, where she would be lost forever.
"It's too late," the figure said. "You're already one of us."
Li An screamed, the sound of it echoing off the walls as she stumbled backward, her hands pressing against her head, trying to push away the image, the voice, the darkness.
But no matter how hard she tried, it wouldn't go away.