Erynn Voss rarely looked in mirrors anymore.
Not because he feared what he'd see. Quite the opposite. The face staring back was always his, no matter whose skin he wore. But lately the reflections had started whispering.
He stood in the abandoned warehouse he called home, a cavernous space filled with dusty crates and the faint hum of distant city traffic. Moonlight filtered through broken windows, painting silver stripes across the concrete floor. In the center stood a full-length mirror salvaged from some ruined mansion—cracked in one corner, but still clear enough.
Erynn tilted his head, studying the current body: mid-thirties, sharp jaw, dark hair cropped short. A former freelance Hunter who'd accepted a "special commission" over dinner two months ago. The worm had been patient, letting the man live his life until Erynn needed a fresh vessel.
Tonight he needed to check the collection.
He closed his eyes and extended his En—not the wide, sweeping dome most users favored, but a thin, needle-like thread that reached out like invisible fingers. One by one, the marionettes answered.
First, Kael. The boy was sleeping in a cheap motel on the edge of Yorknew. Erynn could feel the rhythm of his breathing, the slow churn of thoughts that were no longer entirely his own. The maggot had rooted deep; Kael dreamed of strings now, of pulling himself upright like a doll on wires.
Next, three others scattered across the continent. A bartender in Greed Island's outskirts. A secretary in the Hunter Exam administration office. A retired Enhancer living quietly in the mountains. All quiet. All waiting.
And then… the worms. Erynn's true insurance.
There were four active at the moment. Each one a separate heartbeat, a separate set of eyes looking out at the world. One in a young woman who'd begged for "a way out" after losing her family to Chimera Ant remnants. Another in a politician who'd swallowed the worm hidden in a congratulatory glass of wine. Two more in bodies that matched the criteria—same gender as Erynn's original form, birthdays close enough for the ritual to work if needed.
They were him, but freer. No single mind strained to control them all. Each worm carried a fragment of his will, independent yet synchronized. Like echoes that could think for themselves.
He opened his eyes. In the mirror, his reflection smiled back—but the smile was a second too slow.
Erynn frowned.That wasn't right.
He raised a hand. The reflection mirrored it perfectly. He tilted his head left. Same.
Then he whispered, "Show me."
The reflection's lips moved, but no sound came out. Instead, the image rippled like water. For a heartbeat, another face overlaid his own—Kael's face, eyes wide with terror, mouth open in a silent scream.
Erynn stepped back. The ripple faded.
"Feedback," he muttered. "Already?"
It happened sometimes when he added too many marionettes too quickly. The single mind stretched thin; echoes bled through. Pain from one puppet could echo back. Memories could leak. In rare cases, strong-willed hosts could fight from the inside, creating glitches in the connection.
Kael had potential. Maybe more than Erynn anticipated.
He needed to accelerate the process. Turn the boy fully, then use him to scout for a better vessel—someone with higher Nen capacity, someone whose birthday aligned perfectly.
Erynn reached into his coat and pulled out a small glass vial. Inside, a single pale worm coiled lazily, glowing faintly with aura. Another one ready for the yearly harvest. He smiled.
"Time to feed the family."
Across the city, in that same cheap motel, Kael woke up gasping. Sweat soaked his shirt. His hands shook as he reached for the bedside lamp. The room spun for a second, and in the dim light, he saw it—thin, shimmering threads extending from his fingertips, fading into nothing a few inches out.
He stared at them and they stared back. No. Not they. He.
A voice—not quite his own—whispered inside his skull. Good morning, Kael. Or should I say… me?
Kael clamped both hands over his ears. It didn't help.
The voice laughed softly.
Don't fight it. You're already wearing my favorite smile.
Kael stumbled to the bathroom mirror. His reflection looked normal—except for the eyes. They were too calm. Too knowing.
He raised a hand to touch his face.
The reflection didn't move. It just watched and smiled.