Chapter One – Shards in the Night
Lian liked to tell herself she was born in the wrong era.
Perhaps she should have lived in ancient times, surrounded by temples, scrolls, and stone statues.
In the archaeology department of her university, this passion gave her academic distinction… but it also brought her heavy isolation.
Her classmates whispered that she was "odd." She didn't like parties, didn't follow fashion, and preferred to stay in her room reading about civilizations that had vanished thousands of years ago.
She lived alone in a small apartment on the fourth floor of an old building, rarely visited by anyone.
That evening, she sat at her antique wooden desk, surrounded by history books, the yellow lamp casting a warm glow over the room.
The quiet wrapped around her so tightly she could hear the clock ticking.
Then… she felt something strange.
A sudden chill crept up from her feet, as if a window had opened somewhere, though every one of them was shut tight.
She slowly lifted her head and scanned the room.
No one.
Yet the sensation of being watched weighed in the air.
She whispered to herself with a faint smile:
— "Just my imagination… probably because I've been reading too much about ancient funerary rituals tonight."
She returned to her book, but her fingers froze on the page when she heard a sharp, brief sound—like a hiss.
Her gaze drifted to the wall opposite… to the mirror hanging there.
It was a simple one with an old wooden frame, inherited from her grandmother.
Without warning, a thin crack split down the center, then another, branching like veins.
In less than a second, the mirror shattered completely, shards scattering across the floor, reflecting her face in hundreds of distorted fragments.
Her heart jumped into her throat, and she stumbled back until she hit the chair.
There was no explanation—no tremor, no wind, no blow. It had simply broken on its own.
She gasped, struggling to catch her breath, then whispered again:
— "Not real… I'm just imagining things."
But deep inside, she knew something unnatural had just happened.
The next day, the sky was pale and cloud-heavy.
Lian buried herself in lectures, trying to forget the incident. Yet every time she lifted her eyes from her notebook, she felt as though someone was watching her among the faces in the hall.
Still, she convinced herself it was nothing but lingering nerves.
By evening, she left the campus and headed toward her apartment. She took the longer route through the old alleys—she loved passing there, with its little shops selling antiques and rare books.
And there, at the corner of a narrow street, she noticed an antique shop she'd never seen before.
Its window was crowded with odd items: rusty pocket watches, stone figurines, and small wooden chests.
But her eyes stopped on only one thing… a mirror.
It was slightly larger than the one that had shattered in her room, with a copper frame carved into twisted vine-like patterns. At the top, there was a symbol she couldn't immediately identify, but it felt familiar from one of her old books.
The glass was so clear it seemed to catch the light even in the dimness.
She stepped closer, almost touching the glass with her fingertips, and felt an odd warmth radiating from it—so unlike the cold evening air.
She didn't realize how long she had been standing there until an elderly man emerged from the shop, stooped, with a short white beard and eyes that seemed to see beneath the skin.
— "The mirror caught your eye, miss?" he said in a voice rough yet steady.
— "Yes… it's beautiful, like it has a story."
He gave a faint smile, tinged with sadness:
— "It has more than a story… it carries a curse."
She laughed lightly, but stopped when she noticed the seriousness in his eyes.
— "A curse?"
— "Everyone who bought this mirror met with… misfortune. Some fell ill overnight, some disappeared, and others… were never more than a memory again."
She swallowed hard, but he continued:
— "If you're a lover of old things, I suggest you choose another."
She gave the mirror one last look—and noticed something odd.
Her reflection was clear… but deep within the glass, behind her, there seemed to be a tall, still shadow. One that didn't match anyone in the street.
She blinked. The shadow was gone.
Her heartbeat quickened, but she muttered:
— "How much is it?"
The man studied her for a long moment before naming a surprisingly low price, as if he wanted to get rid of it at any cost.
Her hand trembled slightly as she pulled out her wallet, trying to hide her unease. She took the mirror in her arms and stepped out of the shop, unaware that the old man was watching her from the doorway, murmuring words she couldn't understand.
She walked into the dark alley, the mirror cradled against her, when the air around her suddenly cooled.
Her footsteps echoed louder than they should—like someone was walking behind her, their stride perfectly in sync with hers.
She spun around.
No one.
But her reflection in the mirror she held… didn't turn with her.
Lian froze, eyes locked on the reflection that stared back at her with a face not quite her own… and a mouth slowly forming words from behind the glass:
"I've been waiting for you."