Night fell like an old mirror, polished by mist and lamplight.
That day, Beijing's air carried a metallic tang, cold as memories lurking in the bones.
Emerging from the police station archives as dusk descended, the fog beneath the streetlights seemed to breathe.
I clutched the file on the new case, its cover bearing a few words—
"The Mirror Woman Case".
Reportedly, three tenants had either self-harmed or gone mad within the same apartment.
Their statements were identical:
> "There was a woman laughing in the mirror."
At first, I thought it was merely a hallucination case.
But when Lucas's voice echoed in my mind that night, I knew it wouldn't be that simple.
"Mirrors?" he murmured, his tone tinged with an emotion I couldn't quite place.
"Are you afraid?" I asked.
"Not afraid," he paused, "just... familiar."
I frowned. Lucas never spoke lightly of his life before death.
Yet whenever clues touched upon that "experiment," he became... unsettled.
---
The Flat
The crime scene was in an old block in Chaoyang District.
Sixth floor, no lift.
By the time I reached the top, the air was thick with the scent of rotten wood and disinfectant.
A torn police seal clung to the iron door.
I pushed it open.
The room was small, like a student dorm, with cheap furniture.
Only one feature stood out: a full-length mirror, jarringly out of place.
It stood quietly in the corner, its frame an old-fashioned dark wood grain engraved with symbols I couldn't decipher.
I approached. Light filtered through the curtains, reflecting into the mirror.
The mist transformed into a sheer veil within the reflection.
My shadow drifted within the mirror, its movements always half a second slower than reality.
"That mirror," Lucas's voice murmured softly, "I've seen one like it before."
"Where?"
"In the laboratory before my death."
I turned to look at him—
or rather, at the patch of air.
He stood there, translucent, his gaze fixed upon the mirror's surface.
In that moment, he seemed more human than ever before.
"Your experiments... were they connected to mirrors?" I asked.
"Yes." His voice grew hollow. "We attempted to project memories onto reflective surfaces.
A 'residual consciousness' technique.
I thought it was merely data replication... until she appeared."
"She?"
"That woman."
---
Before I could process it, the light in the mirror dimmed abruptly.
The bulb flickered twice, the air turned cold.
My breath formed mist.
I looked up.
She appeared.
Within the mirror, a woman's silhouette slowly materialised.
Her hair hung in tangled strands, her skin appearing waterlogged.
Her eyes were hollow blackness—yet she smiled.
The smile held no expression, merely a split at the corners of her mouth.
Her hand pressed against the mirror's surface, nails scraping out a shrill, grating sound.
I instinctively stepped back.
A sharp pang of pain shot through my heart, my clairvoyance nearly activating of its own accord.
The world began to warp.
Walls, light, time—all blurred.
I saw another scene—
> A bright laboratory, glassware filled with liquid.
Lucas in a white coat, adjusting a device.
A woman behind him, watching her reflection in a mirror.
She said, "I see myself dying."
The next instant, an electric flash. Her reflection—vanished.
Gasping, I snapped back from the vision.
Lucas stood before me, his expression complex.
"Was she your test subject?" I asked.
"Yes." He closed his eyes. "Her name was Lin Xia. Died in an accident.
We thought her consciousness had dissipated.
But I was wrong... She's trapped in the mirror."
---
"Lucas," I murmured, "if you were responsible for her death, why do you still exist?"
"I am not a survivor." He regarded me, his eyes like a deep well.
"The day I died, I too was looking into her eyes."
The air grew suddenly icy.
The woman in the mirror's lips twitched.
Her voice came from behind the glass, muffled and eerie:
> "He deceived me...
Now you intend to deceive me too... Evelyn?"
I froze.
She knew my name.
"How could she—"
"She can read reflected consciousness," Lucas interrupted. "The moment you look into the mirror, she sees everything in your memory."
Gritting my teeth, I pulled the cloth over the mirror.
But in that instant, I saw her face... transform into my own.
---
I bolted from the room.
Footsteps echoed in the stairwell.
Behind me, glass shattered.
Lucas followed, his form flickering in the air.
"You must leave. She's replicating you."
"Replicating?" I halted. "What do you mean?"
"The mirror consciousness's trait—it mimics the observer.
The longer you look at her, the more she becomes you."
"What does she become in the end?"
"A new you."
---
The Next Day
I'd barely slept.
Returning to the station, sunlight hung like a haze—glaring, false.
A window suddenly popped up on the archive room computer.
The file name read:
> ForbiddenCity_File_Reflected.doc
I clicked it open.
The screen flickered, revealing my photograph.
The date was today.
But the me in the picture wore last night's clothes, standing before the shattered mirror.
"Evelyn?" Lucas's voice trembled slightly.
I didn't answer.
My fingers lightly touched the screen.
The "me" in the photograph suddenly moved—
She lifted her head and smiled at me.
---
Night
Returning home, I couldn't help glancing at the bathroom mirror while washing up.
At first, everything seemed normal.
But seconds later, my reflection blinked—
while the real me did not.
I froze, watching the mirrored "me" slowly tilt her head.
Her lips curved upwards in a gentle smile.
> "Don't be afraid. I'll help you see the truth."
"Who are you?" I nearly growled.
She didn't answer.
The light flickered twice.
The figure in the mirror blurred, becoming a series of afterimages.
It finally settled on one outline—Lucas.
His reflection stood behind me, his expression unfamiliar.
"Evelyn," he said from within the mirror, his voice distorted, "did you truly believe I was human?"
I spun around abruptly—nothing existed in reality.
Only myself, and the mirror slowly fogging over.
I stared at the mirror.
The reflection of myself slowly raised a hand, tapping the glass three times.
> Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
The sound was muffled, echoing.
With the final tap, a crackling static filled my ears—
screens, lights, and watches flickered simultaneously.
Then, I heard Lucas's voice whispering in my mind:
> "Don't look at the mirror."
I looked up.
The "me" in the mirror smiled, pressing her hand against the inside of the glass.
Her lips formed slowly and clearly—
> "It's too late."