People think the mirror reflects the truth. But the reality is far more twisted. What it shows is only the surface— never the storm that brews beneath the skin.
"SHALL I TELL YOU THE TRUTH?"
The words linger, heavy and intimate, as if they were meant only for me.
I don't answer. I don't know how.
The mirror stays silent after that— smooth, obedient, reflecting only what it is supposed to.
A face without features.
A past neatly erased.
Whatever truth it almost revealed sinks back beneath the glass.
Hana: Ah! I'll handle it.
Seo-Jun: Thank you senior. You are the best.
Hana: ...
I'm Kim Hana, a 20 year-old college student. I've plenty of friends, and a normal life.
Yet somehow... something always seems missing.
An unsettling feeling as if I lost a part of myself. A scar that I don't remember getting. A childhood that eludes me.
I have no memories of my youth. Only a fear of darkness, that I can't explain. Auditory hallucinations, visual hallucinations.
All of it must be connected to the memories I lost.
Hana: I think I know this house.
Okay! Let's find the past I've lost.
Days later, I return. This time to stay. Boxes stacked at my feet and dust clinging to my shoes.
The decision I made that day no longer feels like a thought. It feels like fate.
Nari steps beside me, dropping the box she was holding to the ground. Hesitation written across her face.
Nari: Buddy, are you sure you want to move into this house? (She asks, staring at the old structure.)
Hana: Yes. This is the first time I truely know what I want.
Nari: ...Okay then. Let me help you.
In my chaotic life, Nari is the most beautiful gift heaven ever gave me.
She is not just my best friend— she is my safe zone. When rain falls, she becomes the roof that shelters me. A sisterly soul I cherish more than words can ever express.
Nari: Hana, where should I put this box?
Hana: Oh! That one goes in my room. Give it to me. I'll take it upstairs. Can you grab the food instead? It's about to be delivered.
Nari: Yeah, sure. Give me your phone.
Hana: Here you go.
...Huh?
There's another room here.
"Hana... come here, Hana. I'm waiting for you."
My heart stutters.
The voice isn't loud... It doesn't need to be.
It feels familiar in a way that makes my chest ache.
Like something I once knew... Or something that once knew me.
Hana: What's in that room?
Before I can move, Nari's voice cuts through the silence— warm and real.
Nari: Hana, come here. The food's here. Eat first, then we'll do the rest.
Hana: Coming...
My voice sounds steadier than I feel.
I turn away.
But just as I take a step forward, the whisper returns.
"Don't forget me."
That night, sleep refuses to claim me.
The house breathes.
I don't know how else to describe it— every wall creaks like a rib cage expanding, every shadow stretching too long, too deliberate. Moonlight leaks through the curtains, spilling across the floor like pale water.
I sit up. The mirror across my bed catches my movement.
I freeze.
My reflection stares back— same face, same eyes... but something is wrong.
I look tired.
The reflection looks aware.
Slowly, I raise my hand.
It doesn't.
My breath catches in my throat.
The reflection smiles.
Not my smile.
Something sharper. Knowing.
A faint crack appears on the mirror's surface, running straight through my reflected eye.
"You left me here."
The voice comes from everywhere and nowhere.
I stumble back, heart pounding, knocking into the beside table. The mirror flickers, returning to normal. Just glass. Just me.
I press my fingers against my scar.
It burns.
Memories press against the back of my skull— a locked black door, a child crying, hands shaking, and the sound of glass shattering.
I gasp.
The darkness in the corner of the room thickens. And from it, a familiar whisper curls around my name once more—
"This house remembers you, Hana."
I clutch the bedsheet, trembling.
If this house holds my past...
Then the truth I'm searching for may not want to be found.
But it's too late now.
I've already come home.