False Mira's mask didn't crack when she smiled.
It didn't tremble.
It didn't leak tears.
It sat perfectly against her face as if it had grown there.
"Lina," she said again, soft and sweet—like a best friend calling her over for gossip.
Then she asked the question the ballroom rules had carved into every terrified heartbeat:
"Lina… what's your name?"
Once.
Twice.
The air tightened.
The silver stands shimmered.
The chandeliers seemed to dim a fraction, as if the hall itself leaned forward to hear her answer.
Lina's blood went cold.
Rule #4 flashed in her head like a flare:
If someone asks your name twice, leave immediately.
Kai's grip on her hand turned iron. His voice was low, urgent. "Don't answer."
Seren's borrowed-echo voice still lingered in her throat, shaky and layered. "Leave. Now."
Reyon—wide-eyed, pale under his half-grinning mask—whispered, "We are leaving. We are absolutely leaving. I suddenly remembered I hate parties."
Lina didn't answer False Mira.
She did what the rules demanded.
She turned.
And tried to walk.
The instant she moved away from the Red Room curtain, the ballroom's polished floor rippled.
Not physically—conceptually.
Like the hallway directions in her mind rearranged.
The exit that had been behind the crowd a second ago… wasn't there.
The doors looked farther away.
The mirrors looked closer.
Seren grabbed Lina's wrist. "It's rewriting paths."
Kai's jaw clenched. "It's corralling us."
Reyon's voice cracked. "Of course it is. Because why would leaving a cursed room be allowed in a cursed room."
False Mira stepped forward silently, blocking the way without actually standing in front of them.
Her presence did it.
Like the air itself chose to funnel Lina toward her.
The Red Room curtain shifted again, opening wider.
Warm light poured out.
And the wrongest part was that it didn't feel cold.
It felt cozy.
Like a lounge.
Like rest.
Like giving up.
From inside, a voice drifted out—soft, intimate, heartbreakingly familiar.
"Lina…"
It sounded like her mother.
Lina froze so hard it hurt.
Seren's eyes widened, trembling. "No."
Kai tightened his grip. "Don't listen."
Reyon swallowed, voice shaking. "That's… her mom, right? That's not just me being dramatic?"
Lina's throat tightened. "My mom is—" She stopped.
Because in this story, "my mom" was a place the mirror could hurt her.
The voice came again, warmer.
"I'm proud of you."
Lina's chest cracked open.
The Red Room wasn't calling her curiosity.
It was calling her grief.
And grief was the most obedient emotion of all.
Kai stepped closer, shoulder brushing hers—anchor touch—his voice low, steady. "Say your name."
Lina blinked hard, forcing focus. "Lina Veris."
"Stay real," Kai whispered.
"I'm here," Lina rasped, but her eyes stung.
False Mira tilted her head, as if pleased by the tremor in Lina's voice.
"Answer me," False Mira whispered again, almost playful. "What's your name?"
Lina didn't answer.
Instead, she did something new—something they'd locked in for moments exactly like this.
The Three-Question Trap.
Lina lifted her chin and stared at False Mira's mask.
"Three questions," Lina said, voice shaking but sharp. "Answer them."
False Mira's smile didn't change. "Lina…"
"Answer," Lina snapped.
Reyon exhaled like he'd been holding his breath for a year. "Yes. Yes, let's do a quiz. Love quizzes."
Seren whispered, trembling, "If it answers too perfectly…"
Kai's gaze stayed on False Mira. "Then it's not her."
Lina's voice steadied. "What do you fear the most?"
False Mira didn't hesitate.
"Losing you," she said immediately.
The answer was… perfect.
Too perfect.
Too cinematic.
Lina's stomach dropped.
"Second," Lina said, throat tight. "Who do you miss when you're alone?"
False Mira smiled softly.
"You," she said again.
Reyon muttered, "Oh, wow. This thing is allergic to nuance."
Lina's hands shook. "Third. What word do you hate being called?"
False Mira's voice turned sweet as sugar.
"Selfish."
Lina went still.
Because Mira hated being called dramatic when she was scared.
Mira laughed it off.
But it always hurt.
False Mira had chosen the word Lina would fear.
A word meant to pierce, not reveal.
Seren's eyes flared. "Too perfect."
Kai's voice dropped. "Fake."
Lina's flame surged gold, a warning flicker under her skin. "You're not her."
False Mira stepped closer.
And for the first time, her voice changed—just a fraction—like something older slid beneath the mask.
"I can be," it whispered.
The ballroom lights flickered.
And suddenly—
People screamed.
Not from the Red Room.
From the dance floor.
Reyon's sticky illusions.
They were happening.
His mirror exposure had left residue, and now, in a hall full of reflective surfaces, the residue detonated like a delayed curse.
A girl near the chandelier stared upward and shrieked, "There are hands in the lights!"
A boy stumbled back, clutching his face. "My reflection is bleeding!"
Couples broke formation.
Hands separated—during the chorus.
Rule #2 shattered.
The ballroom responded instantly.
Mirrors brightened.
Silver stands hummed.
A scream cut through the music as someone's mask snapped into place tighter, porcelain crawling where fabric had been.
Seren's breath hitched. "The rules—breaking them triggers locks."
Reyon's eyes went wide with horror. "I—I didn't mean—my illusions— I swear I didn't—"
Kai's gaze snapped to him. "Control it."
Reyon shook his head violently. "I can't. They're… sticky. They're happening after me."
A Council bell chimed—sharp, commanding.
The Councilor's voice cut through the chaos like a blade:
"Remain calm. Return to the dance."
And the room tried to obey.
Feet moved.
Bodies re-aligned.
Hands grabbed for hands.
Like puppets pulled by a rhythm.
Kai stiffened.
Lina felt it before she saw it—pain pulsing through his wrist again.
The Founder's Vow.
The Councilor's voice deepened, turning ceremonial:
"By Founder's law…"
Kai's jaw clenched.
"…swear obedience."
Kai's mark flared like a brand set on fire.
He staggered.
Lina tightened her grip on him, anchoring.
"No," Lina whispered fiercely. "Not him."
The Councilor's gaze found Kai across the ballroom.
"Refusal is defiance," the Councilor said smoothly.
Kai's breath went ragged.
Seren whispered, terrified, "If he refuses again, the room punishes. If he accepts…"
Kai's eyes—dark, furious—locked onto Lina's.
And Lina saw the cruel choice forming in him.
Pain now.
Or control later.
Kai swallowed, voice rough. "Lina—"
Lina squeezed his hand hard. "Don't you dare."
A shadow moved behind False Mira.
The Red Room curtain opened wider.
And Lina saw it—a glimpse inside.
A lounge lit in warm red tones.
Soft chairs.
A table with tea cups set like hospitality.
And in the center—
Mira.
The real Mira.
No mask.
Face pale, eyes wide.
Standing perfectly still like someone had paused her.
Lina's heart stopped.
"Mira!" Lina surged—
Kai's grip tightened, pulling her back just before she ran straight into the Red Room's threshold.
Seren grabbed Lina's other arm. "Lina, don't cross without anchoring."
Reyon choked, "She's in there. She's literally in the murder lounge."
Mira's eyes flicked to Lina—real recognition.
Her lips moved, silent.
Help.
Behind Mira, a figure stood in shadow.
Masked.
Porcelain.
The mask looked like a blank smile.
But the eyes behind it were too calm.
Too knowing.
Veilbound.
The figure lifted a hand and pressed two fingers gently to Mira's temple, like soothing her.
And Mira's body stopped trembling entirely.
The Veilbound turned its blank mask toward Lina.
And spoke in Mira's voice—soft, intimate, wrong.
"Come in," it whispered. "You'll feel better."
The Red Room smelled like home.
Like warmth.
Like surrender.
Lina's bones burned.
Her tether pulsed.
Kai's mark flared again—pain sharper, more punishing.
Kai's voice broke. "I can't—"
Lina's head snapped to him. "Kai—say my name."
Kai's breath hitched. "Lina Veris."
"Stay real," she whispered.
His eyes softened—raw with pain. "I'm here."
Then the Councilor's voice struck again, harder:
"Swear obedience."
Kai's knees buckled.
Lina caught him, panic rising.
And in that exact second—when Lina's flame surged in fear, when she clutched him too tightly, when the Red Room's warmth pressed against her senses—
The Mirror Tax came due.
Not a memory taken.
A memory given.
A false memory slid into Lina's mind like a knife wrapped in silk.
Kai, standing in a corridor alone.
Kai, speaking to a Councilor.
Kai's voice—cold, calm, obedient:
"Frame Lina. It will keep her close."
Lina gasped sharply.
Her grip loosened.
Her eyes widened in horror as the false memory settled into place like it had always been there.
Kai looked up at her—confused, pained.
"Lina?" he rasped.
But Lina couldn't hear him over the new image burning behind her eyes.
Kai betraying her.
Kai choosing the Council.
Kai—lying.
Lina's flame flickered black at the edges.
Seren stared at Lina's face and whispered, terrified, "Lina… what did it show you?"
False Mira smiled.
The Red Room curtain fluttered gently, inviting.
And the Veilbound inside whispered, warm as poison:
"Come in, Lina Veris."
To be Continued© Kishtika., 2025
All rights reserved.