The two Yoorins sat facing each other.
One breathing heavy, full of emotion.
The other quiet, almost translucent.
"I got stuck," the glass-room Yoorin said. "I stayed too long between versions. I tried to write my way out, but the endings kept changing."
She reached for her wrist and tapped the broken watch.
"It stopped the day you stopped writing."
Yoorin looked down at her own notebook, which now pulsed faintly in her bag. The cover was beginning to crack, not from wear—but from truth.
"Are you me?" she asked.
"No. I'm what you become when you forget who you are. When you wait too long. When you let other people's stories replace your own."
She stood up slowly.
The mirrors around the room began to show flickers—other lives. Lives where Yoorin had stayed at the train station. Where Seon had never waited. Where the story ended halfway through.
Each mirror had one thing in common:
Loneliness.
Real Yoorin swallowed hard.
"I don't want to become you."
"You already started to."
"But I found Seon."
The mirror-Yoorin smiled, soft and sad.
"You found him in this life. That doesn't fix the others. But maybe—if you finish your story—you'll start healing them too."
She reached forward and touched Yoorin's chest, over her heart.
"You need to write the ending. No matter how much it scares you."
And with that, she faded—slowly—until all that remained was the chair and the broken watch.
The mirrors cracked.
The glass ceiling shattered open into stars.
Yoorin stood alone.
But not afraid.