The monitor's glow no longer just reflected off Kael's skin—it radiated from within him.
"Wh... What?" his voice was a choked rasp. A cold, oily dread pooled in his stomach. He didn't just walk; he recoiled, his body slamming against the bedroom wall before he scrambled toward the bathroom. He needed the mirror to lie to him. He needed it to say he was just tired.
He gripped the cold marble vanity, forcing his gaze upward.
One eye remained his own—blown wide with terror. The other was a vibrant, predatory emerald. It wasn't an eye; it was a window into a furnace. A sickening pulse throbbed behind the socket, a rhythmic, heavy beat that didn't match his own heart.
"No. Get out!" He splashed freezing water against his face. SPLASH. He scrubbed until his skin was raw, but when he pulled the towel away, the green iris stared back, mocking him. It wasn't a stain; it was rooted in his soul.
"Dark Smiler..." Kael whispered to the empty room. "What is happening to me?"
From the corners of his mind, a voice crawled out—low, smooth, and liquid. "Oh, Kael... that is the mark of her 'devotion.' She has claimed your senses. Even as you sleep, she uses your nerves to map the world. You aren't losing your mind... you're just sharing it."
Kael felt a wave of nausea. His own body was no longer private. "How do I shut her out?"
"Cover the eye," Dark Smiler suggested with a dark, parental comfort. "Deny her the view, and the parasite retreats. For now."
Kael slammed his palm over the emerald eye, squeezing his lids shut until sparks danced in the dark. He prayed for the pulse to stop. When he finally dropped his hand, the mirror reflected two brown eyes again.
But the heavy, itching sensation of being watched from the inside remained.
"Sara?" Kael's voice was a broken plea. "Is that true? Are you... in there?"
"I am where I need to be," her voice cut through the silence. It didn't come from the air; it vibrated in his jawbone—sharp and possessive. "I am the only thing standing between you and the dark, Kael. This is protection. Don't ungrateful children always find their safety stifling?"
Kael's lungs felt too small. "Why? Is there something in me you need?"
There was a long pause. Then, a whisper so faint it was almost a hum: "There is nothing in you worth saving, Kael... but you are the vessel for the future I intend to build."
Kael froze. "D—Did you just say 'vessel'?"
"No," she replied instantly, her voice a mask of innocence. "I said nothing at all. You're just tired, Kael. Go back to sleep. I'll watch."
Kael gripped the tap, his knuckles white. "I think you didn't know... but when I wake up, I am never going to sleep again."
"Haaa… haaa…" Dark Smiler's laugh echoed in the back of his skull. "Kael… sometimes you become too cold."
The Weight of Silence
Kael dressed in mechanical silence. The quiet of the house was a physical weight, reminding him of everything he had lost. The guilt of Tatsuka and Shiya sat heavy in his chest—a dull, jagged ache that refused to numb.
He turned on the television, desperate for any noise to drown out the internal voices.
A movie was playing—a quiet, simple death scene. As he watched the character slip away into the stillness, a single tear finally broke. He wasn't crying for the screen; he was crying because he realized that even in death, he would never be alone again.
The television audio faded into a hum. The only sound left was his own jagged sobbing.
His mother ran into the room, pulling him into a tight, desperate hug. "It's alright… it's alright…" she whispered. Kael closed his eyes, let his head fall against her shoulder, but the tears didn't stop.
The Finality of Earth
A few days later, the news of Tatsuka and Shiya's deaths had spread like wildfire through a dry forest.
Kael stood near the school entrance, watching the world move on. Near the reception desk, he saw a man in human form—the Shadow Master. He held the official death certificates required by the laws of Earth. With a steady hand, he withdrew the names of Tatsuka and Shiya from the world's records.
Kael's eyes locked onto him for a fraction of a second. The Shadow Master didn't look back. He simply turned and walked toward a waiting car, his shadow stretching unnaturally long across the pavement.
As the car door opened, the Shadow Master's whisper carried on the wind, meant only for himself:
"I don't have the courage to look him in the eye... because I can still see her looking back through him."