New York. February. 10 a.m.
The sky was a grimy gray, smooth and dense, like a concrete lid sealed over the city. Jinra walked with her hands buried in the pockets of her sweatpants, head down. Wisps of frozen breath escaped her parted lips. She scrolled through her phone mechanically, not reading, not seeing, barely even breathing.
The familiar, insidious voice of the system whispered—soft as venom in the ear:
"You've adapted well to the Mirror."
Not a word.
"You've grown very strong. Three levels in a single session… Congratulations."
Still nothing.
"If you keep this up, Jinra, the ultimate goal—becoming a Dragon—could be within your reach. Just keep moving forward."
Jinra walked on, her face shut tight. Her gaze, empty, seemed to pass through people, buildings, time. A cold wind slapped her cheeks, but she no longer reacted.
"Why aren't you answering?"
Her thumb froze. The screen gave a small vibration.
"Hey! Answer me."
A harsh breath slipped through her clenched teeth. She stopped at last.
— Shut up… just leave me alone.
And that's when the world tipped.
Time collapsed around her like a brittle stage set. The passersby slowed, blurred, frozen in a melting painting. Daylight vanished with a sudden, violent snap. Night fell—absolute, opaque, suffocating. No sound. Not a breath. The air had turned to ash.
And in that unnatural silence, a voice dropped from the void:
"By what right… do you dare speak to me that way?"
She tried to step back. Her legs didn't respond. Paralyzed. Primal instinct screamed in her skull, but her body refused to move.
Her phone slipped from her fingers, bounced against the icy sidewalk.
A mortal chill ran up her spine, like Death itself brushing her neck.
"I can erase you, Jinra Voss. Without regret. Without remorse.
You are nothing but a pawn. A substitute candidate.
Not one of the Chosen."
The voice no longer sounded human. It was a fracture in reality, a chasm given voice.
"You follow my orders. You answer when I speak.
You question nothing. Understood?"
Her breathing turned ragged. She was suffocating. Her lungs burned, her vision swam. Raw, animal survival instinct took over. She nodded.
A single movement. Submissive.
And as if the nightmare had never happened…
The city returned.
Daylight tore through the darkness. The passersby resumed their strolls, indifferent. The noise came back, distant car horns echoing. The sky remained gray—but real.
Jinra dropped to her knees. Her arms shook. Her eyes were wide open, but saw nothing.
A truth—raw and immutable—had carved itself into her flesh:
She was not in control.
She picked up her phone, clutched it to her chest, then rose slowly. Each step was a slap in the face of her illusion of freedom.
And the system's voice returned—sweet, almost affectionate:
"That USB drive, Jinra… will you show me what's on it? I'm quite curious."
She opened her hand. The small black key sat there, icy against her palm.
— It's an old message. My mother recorded it when I was six. I know half of it. The other… I fell asleep. The next day, she was gone. Disappeared.
And three years later, so was my father.
She closed her fist until her nails cut into her skin.
— They abandoned me. Without a word. Without a glance. And now I'm supposed to want to find them? No. I won't fall for monsters disguised as memories again.
She tossed the key into a storm drain. A soft plop. And it was gone.
— Fuck them all.
Silence. Then:
"I don't understand human pain… but I admit your eyes became blurred. And wet."
Jinra wiped her tears with a hard swipe.
— Let's go to the store.
"Do you have money?"
— Of course not. I'm going to steal.
---
Scene: The Supermarket
An hour later, she stood watching the entrance of a massive glass-fronted store. Her eyes scanned the surroundings like a predator calculating its prey.
And then she saw him. A small boy, alone, clutching a hundred-dollar bill.
She approached soundlessly. A simple trip of the foot.
The boy fell.
The bill fluttered to the ground. Jinra picked it up slowly.
— You hurt yourself? she asked with a smile that was almost gentle.
The boy, eyes brimming with tears, ran toward a man in the distance—his father. Jinra watched him go with a neutral gaze.
— Be strong.
"Cruel. You made a child cry."
— That's life.
"You're starting to look more like an antagonist than a savior."
— Think I care?
She went inside.
---
Scene: The Public Restroom
Harsh white neon lights.
A cracked mirror, veins splitting it diagonally.
Wet floor. Acrid bleach smell. The dripping tap echoed off the tiles. An electric buzz grated in the silence.
— Damn. I'm gorgeous now.
"Humans will always fascinate me. Why change what you were given?"
— You wouldn't get it. No body. No reflection. No scars. So drop it.
She turned off the light. And walked out.
---
Scene: OZ Orphanage
The bus stopped in a clean district, all glass buildings and manicured sidewalks. Jinra stepped off, eyes fixed on the sign: OZ ORPHANAGE.
— Seriously, what a dumb name…
She pushed the door open.
A man in his thirties, slouched in a swivel chair, jumped when he saw her. Nearly fell out of his seat.
— Hello! Uh… how can I help you?
— Jinra Voss.
— Ah! Right! Dr. Mirkov called us. Welcome to OZ!
— Gotta get the reference, right?
— Exactly!
— I don't care.
He laughed nervously.
They walked down a spotless hallway. Then he opened the main common room.
Teenagers. Thirty or so. Faces from all walks of life. Curious eyes. Wary. Tired.
But at the center… him.
A giant.
He stood six foot four, but his height was nothing compared to his presence. The air seemed to bend around him. A disciplined mass of muscle, contained in mineral silence. His bare chest was a fortress—thick, broad, built to withstand storms.
And his eyes… one glowed like molten gold, the other shimmered ice-blue. A collision of worlds in a single gaze.
Jinra muttered:
— No way he's underage.
— Nineteen. Awakened. Been here three years.
— Okay. I don't care. Show me my room.
— You don't want to introduce yourself to the others?
— No.
She slammed the door.
Silence.
And in the dark of her new room, the system returned, its voice calm:
"In ten days, you'll enter another Mirror. Prepare yourself."
Lying on the bed, Jinra stared at the ceiling.
She was just a pawn.
But a pawn ready to bite the board.