The corridors beneath the abandoned Lorstein Observatory were colder than the surface above—cold in a way that seeped into bone, as though the ground itself breathed frost. Reiji moved through the narrow passages with calculated steps, every sense sharpened by the remnants of the conspiracy he had uncovered in the previous night.
The key fragment he had taken from the dead conspirator—its edge stained by blood that was not his—rested inside the inner pocket of his coat. It felt heavier than metal. Almost like it pulsed. Almost like it wanted something.
Kaede followed behind him in silence, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her short blade. There was no fear in her steps, only tension—like a taut string waiting to snap.
"You're sure this is where the second fragment was taken?" she asked, her voice echoing quietly against the stone.
"The map didn't lie," Reiji replied. "But the people who created it did."
Kaede exhaled sharply. "So basically… everything after this point is a guess."
Reiji didn't answer. In truth, he was thinking about what the dying conspirator had whispered to him.
"The mirror doesn't reflect the truth… it shows the version it wants you to believe."
Reiji hadn't understood it.
Not until now.
The tunnel ended at a massive iron archway. Carvings lined the frame—fractured circles, intersecting lines, and a motif of a faceless figure holding a broken mirror. Kaede reached out to touch the metal, but Reiji grabbed her wrist before she made contact.
"Don't," he said.
She froze. "Traps?"
"No. Something worse."
His eyes followed the carvings again. They were not ornamental. They were warnings.
"The Order that once controlled this place used psychological barriers," Reiji explained. "Mirrors that rewrite perception. Records that distort memory."
Kaede swallowed hard. "You mean illusions."
"No."
Reiji stepped forward.
"I mean lies that feel real enough to kill you."
The door opened with a low groan when he pushed his palm against the center. Light spilled out—not natural light, but a dim silver glow from dozens of tall standing mirrors arranged inside the chamber.
Kaede's breath hitched.
Reiji's jaw tightened.
The room was a labyrinth of reflections.
None of them looked quite right.
---
THE MIRROR CHAMBER
Reiji stepped into the chamber slowly. His own reflection greeted him from all sides—distorted slightly, eyes too dark, shoulders too rigid, expression too cold. He scanned each surface carefully, but unease crawled up his spine nonetheless.
"Reiji," Kaede whispered, "is that supposed to be us?"
He didn't respond.
Because the reflections weren't matching their movements.
Reiji turned his head to the left.
His reflection stared forward.
Kaede took a step back. Her reflection took a step forward, smiling faintly—something Kaede was not doing.
"This place is wrong," she breathed.
"It's meant to be," Reiji replied.
At the center of the room sat a pedestal. On it: a metal tablet etched with the same sigils as the archway. Reiji approached it cautiously. The silver glow around the mirrors pulsed once—almost like a heartbeat.
Kaede hovered near the entrance, gripping her blade tighter.
Reiji brushed dust from the tablet. A symbol emerged—one he had seen in the files from the Silent Conspiracy's hideout: a broken circle with a single vertical line down the center.
The emblem of the Mirror Codex.
So the rumors were true.
"Reiji," Kaede said, "look at this one."
Her voice trembled—not from fear, but from disbelief.
Reiji turned.
In one of the mirrors, his reflection stood behind him.
But Reiji wasn't moving.
Neither was anyone behind him.
The reflection raised a hand slowly.
Reiji's chest tightened.
Kaede stepped closer to him. "That… that thing is smiling."
It was.
And Reiji wasn't.
"Don't break eye contact," Reiji said. "That's how these mirrors work."
Kaede nodded shakily. "What do they want?"
"To replace us."
Her eyes widened.
Reiji finally understood what the dead conspirator meant.
The mirrors showed lies—versions of people that weren't them, versions shaped to manipulate or devour identity. If someone stared too long, the reflection could overwrite the mind with a false memory… or a false self.
Reiji turned back to the pedestal.
There was text carved beneath the sigil. Ancient, but readable:
"THE REFLECTION THAT LIES SHALL GUARD THE TRUTH THAT BLEEDS."
"WHEN THE MIRROR SMILES, DO NOT."
A cold shiver crept down his spine.
Kaede whispered, "Reiji… that reflection of yours… it's not stopping."
Reiji steadied his breath.
"I know."
---
THE FIRST BREAK
Reiji faced the mirror that showed his distorted twin. The reflection grinned wider, its eyes dark pools without light. It lifted a hand—and a blade slid from its sleeve. Reiji had no such blade in his own.
Kaede hissed, "That's impossible—"
"It's not a reflection," Reiji said.
"It's a construct."
The thing tapped its blade against the glass. A faint crack formed, spreading like thin lightning across the surface.
Reiji moved instinctively.
"Kaede—down!"
The mirror exploded outward.
A shard of silver shot through the air like a thrown knife. Reiji deflected it with his gauntlet, sparks flying. Kaede ducked just in time as another shard embedded itself into the stone wall behind her.
From the shattered frame, the dark reflection stepped out.
Not through the glass—from it.
Its movements were fluid, its steps silent—like a shadow given shape.
Kaede's heartbeat sped up. "Reiji—what is that thing!?"
Reiji slid into a defensive stance.
"It's the lie that the mirror created. A weapon."
The construct lunged. Reiji twisted aside, the blade grazing his coat. Kaede swung her short blade, but the reflection moved like water—slipping between her attacks, its expression frozen in that same unnatural smile.
Reiji countered with a strike to its ribs, but his fist passed through like smoke. The construct flickered, then solidified again, slashing at him with inhuman precision.
"It's phasing," Reiji muttered. "It's not fully material."
Kaede gritted her teeth. "Then how the hell do we hit it?"
"We don't."
Reiji smirked coldly.
"We break its anchor."
Kaede's eyes darted to the cracked mirror.
"The frame."
"Destroy it," Reiji ordered.
Kaede sprinted toward the frame. The construct blurred and appeared in front of her—ready to strike. But Reiji slammed his shoulder into it from the side, throwing both of them into another mirror.
The impact sent a sharp ringing through the chamber.
The mirror rippled like liquid.
Reiji hit the floor hard.
The construct recovered instantly.
Kaede drew a deep breath, pivoted, and slashed downward with all her strength. Her blade bit into the cracked mirror frame with a violent spark.
The silver glow pulsed—then shattered.
The construct froze.
Its smile wavered.
Then its body fractured into hundreds of tiny mirror fragments that fell like dust.
Kaede stumbled back, panting. "One down."
Reiji pushed himself to his feet, wiping a streak of blood from the corner of his lip.
"No," he said.
His eyes swept across the chamber.
All the other mirrors were beginning to move.
Their reflections blinked.
Turned.
Tilted their heads in unnatural angles.
Smiling.
Kaede whispered, "You've got to be kidding me."
---
THE MIRROR'S LIE
Reiji stepped back to the pedestal, scanning the carvings again. There had to be some mechanism—some key.
The dead conspirator's warning echoed again:
"The mirror doesn't reflect the truth… it shows the version it wants you to believe."
Reiji's mind raced.
"So it creates constructs based on what we fear," he muttered. "What we doubt. What we deny."
Kaede's eyes flicked to one mirror showing a version of her drenched in blood—her own blood—reaching out as though begging for help.
She flinched but didn't look away.
Reiji continued analyzing the pedestal, his fingers tracing the sigils. Five circles. Three intersecting lines. A central mark representing—
His breath stilled.
"It's not a weapon chamber," he said softly.
"It's a test."
"A test for what?" Kaede demanded.
"For identity."
He pressed his palm to the sigil.
The mirrors trembled. The silver glow intensified.
All around them, the reflections stepped forward simultaneously—cracking their glasses with their bare hands. The air thickened, oppressive, cold.
Kaede raised her blade. "Reiji, they're—"
"They won't stop until the lie replaces us," Reiji said.
"Then what do we do?"
Reiji closed his eyes.
"We show them a truth they can't imitate."
Kaede blinked. "Meaning…?"
Reiji looked at her—really looked at her. At her resolve. At her fear she never admitted. At the humanity the mirror could never replicate.
"Kaede," he said softly, "don't let them define you."
His hand tightened on the pedestal.
His voice dropped.
"And don't let them define me."
He dragged his blade across his own palm—blood dripping onto the sigil.
The mirrors screamed.
A shrill, echoing, metallic shriek filled the chamber as the silver glow pulsed violently. Cracks shot across the surfaces one by one, the reflections distorting, writhing, clawing at the glass as though trying to hold themselves together.
Kaede shielded her eyes. "Reiji!"
He didn't flinch.
"Lies break when the truth bleeds," he said.
The pedestal reacted instantly—glowing red as it absorbed the blood. The sigils ignited like fire spreading across dry parchment.
One mirror shattered.
Then another.
Then ten.
The chamber erupted into a storm of falling glass and dying reflections.
Kaede lunged toward Reiji, pulling him back as the pedestal detonated in a burst of red light.
The chamber dimmed.
Silence settled.
All mirrors were gone—reduced to dust.
Reiji's breath was heavy, but steady.
Kaede exhaled shakily. "You're insane."
Reiji smirked despite the blood on his hand.
"I'm aware."
---
THE FRAGMENT OF TRUTH
Once the dust settled, the pedestal revealed a hidden compartment beneath the shattered sigils. Inside laid the second key fragment—this one larger, etched with the same broken-circle emblem.
Reiji lifted it carefully.
Kaede leaned against the wall, exhausted. "Two fragments… How many more?"
"Three," Reiji replied. "But after tonight, the Conspiracy will know we're onto them."
Kaede sighed. "Meaning?"
Reiji slipped the fragment into his coat.
"Meaning the lies will only get worse."
He turned toward the exit.
Kaede followed.
Above them, the observatory groaned as though waking from a long sleep.
The mirrors might have been lies—
but the path forward was a truth sharper than any blade.
Reiji whispered:
"Chapter 52 was only the beginning."
And the darkness swallowed the rest.