Hermione didn’t believe it at first.
She told herself it was just her imagination.
But then—
She saw it again.
Right beside the framed photograph of Marie Curie, there was a mirror.
She hadn’t noticed it before.
Her reflection should have been there.
But it wasn’t.
Instead—
The mirror showed something else.
A corridor.
Dim.
Empty.
And someone running.
Ryan.
He was running like his life depended on it—his breath uneven, footsteps echoing in panic.
Behind him—
Shelly.
Walking.
Slow.
Unhurried.
As if she already knew how this would end.
Something gleamed in her hand.
Sharp.
Her face— wrong.
Too still.
Too calm.
And yet… stained, as if something had already happened.
Ryan slipped.
Fell hard against the floor.
“Please—” his voice broke, barely audible.
Shelly reached him.
She bent down, her movements almost gentle.
Too gentle.
She whispered something into his ear.
Something Hermione couldn’t hear.
Ryan’s face crumpled.
“I’m sorry… please—”
But Shelly didn’t stop.
She raised her hand—
And then—
The mirror went still.
Blank.
Just a reflection again.
Hermione’s own face stared back at her.
Pale.
Frozen.
And behind her—
For a split second—
She thought she saw Shelly standing in the real corridor.
Elise felt a sudden touch on her shoulder.
“Who are you?” the principal’s voice echoed sharply.
Elise’s eyes snapped open.
For a moment, she froze.
The mirror in front of her was.
completely normal.
No blood.
No Shelly.
Nothing.
Her breath was uneven.
Was it just a hallucination?
“Are you alright?” the principal asked again, this time more cautiously.
Elise quickly straightened herself, trying to control her racing heartbeat.
“I—I’m sorry,” she said, composing herself.
“I’m Elise… a journalist.”
She handed over her business card.
The principal looked confused, her brows slightly furrowed.
Elise added calmly, “I’m here to discuss Shelly… the murder case.”
The moment she said that, the principal’s expression changed.
Blank.
Distant.
Almost… zoned out.
“Ma’am?” Elise called gently, snapping her back.
“Yes—yes. Please, come to my office.”
Inside the office, Elise’s sharp eyes scanned everything.
Nothing unusual… yet.
Still, she discreetly clicked a few photos—especially of the mirror.
“Please sit,” the principal said.
Elise nodded, pulling out her notebook.
“You can ask whatever you want.”
A faint smile appeared on Elise’s lips.
“Tell me about Shelly… apart from her name, age, and boyfriend.”
The principal hesitated for a second.
“She was a great teacher. Cheerful. Every student liked her…”
Her voice softened.
“I still don’t understand how she ended up like that.”
Elise leaned forward slightly.
“What about her family?”
“I don’t know. She never talked about them.”
“Any idea who the culprit might be?”
The principal shook her head.
“No.”
A single word.
Firm.
Cold.
After the conversation, Elise requested access to the crime scenes and classrooms.
The principal paused… then agreed.
A teacher accompanied her.
Room after room.
Corridor after corridor.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Photos of everything.
But one thing stood out.
Every single room… had a mirror.
Same design.
Same placement.
A strange unease crept into her chest.
All day, Elise moved from one student to another.
Same questions.
Same answers.
And the same one line—again and again.
“Shelly had a boyfriend.”
But no one knew his name.
No one had seen him.
No details.
Nothing.
It was like… he didn’t exist.
After hearing the same ten sentences repeatedly, Elise felt a dull frustration building inside her.
This is going nowhere.
Taking a deep breath, she decided to check the crime scene one last time.
She walked toward the classroom where Shelly’s body had been found.
The door was still sealed with police tape.
DO NOT ENTER.
Inside, everything remained untouched.
The chalkboard.
The desks.
And on the floor…
A marked outline where the body had once been.
Elise quietly stepped in, her eyes scanning every corner.
Click.
She took a few pictures.
Something about the room felt… off.
Too silent.
Too still.
Her gaze slowly lifted—
And stopped at the mirror.
For a split second…
She felt like someone was watching her.
Elise immediately turned around.
Nothing.
Just empty air.
She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to stay calm, then walked out.
By the time she reached the school gate, disappointment weighed heavily on her.
No solid lead.
No real clue.
Just a mystery getting deeper.
“Elise!”
She heard her name.
She turned back.
A girl was running toward her, slightly out of breath.
“Hey—calm down,” Elise said, raising her hand.
“Take a breath first.”
The girl stopped, trying to steady herself.
Her eyes looked… scared.
“Miss Elise… I need to tell you something.”
Elise’s expression sharpened instantly.
“Alright,” she said quietly.
“I’m listening.”
The student and Elise sat down on a bench beneath a huge tree.
Elise handed her water bottle to the girl, trying to calm her down.
“Miss Elise… I want to tell you something,” the girl said, breathing heavily.
“Don’t tell me she had a boyfriend. I already know that,” Elise replied, giving her a tired look.
“No, no… please listen,” the girl said urgently.
Elise’s expression shifted with curiosity.
“Actually… her boyfriend was cheating on her.”
The statement hit Elise’s mind like a shock.
“How do you know that?” she asked.
“One day, I saw them fighting. I overheard their conversation. Shelly was crying, blaming him and asking for a reason… but he didn’t say anything.”
Elise leaned forward.
“Then?”
“Then… he just left. Like he hadn’t done anything wrong.” 👀
“That creepy bas—” Elise stopped herself mid-sentence.
She didn’t complete it.
The student was sitting right in front of her, and she couldn’t afford to lose her composure.
Elise cleared her throat, forcing a calm expression.
“Anything else?” Elise asked once again.
The girl tried to think, but couldn’t come up with anything.
“No, Miss Elise. If I find something, I’ll inform you immediately.”
Elise nodded and gave a small smile.
“Thank you so much. This really helps with the investigation.”
They shook hands, and then both left for their respective places.
Elise felt her mind grow confused again because of that statement.
She stood in front of her car, opened the door, and sat down in the driver’s seat.
Just before starting the engine, the glass glitched—and she heard a faint cracking sound.
She quickly looked at it.
But the glass was completely fine.
She glanced around the car.
Everything was normal.
Taking a deep breath, she leaned back and whispered to herself, “I need to consult a psychologist… something is wrong with my mind.”
She looked at herself in the mirror.
Her hair was a mess, and her face looked so pale, as if she hadn’t eaten in days.
“Okay… let’s eat,” she murmured.
She started the engine and drove to her favorite restaurant.
After about half an hour, she reached her destination.
Before getting out of the car, she checked her phone, thinking Jo might have messaged her.
But there was nothing.
Disappointment settled in.
Maybe he was right.
She unwillingly realized her mistake.
She stepped out of the car and stood in front of her favorite classy restaurant, Moju.
It was her go-to place whenever she craved Korean or Chinese food.
The night at Mojju felt like a secret Paris kept only for those who knew where to look.
Inside, the lights were low—soft golden hues resting gently on polished tables, turning every shadow into something intimate, something almost alive.
The air carried a quiet elegance; no loud laughter, no chaos—just the murmur of hushed conversations and the delicate clink of cutlery against porcelain.
She sat by the window, fingers wrapped loosely around a glass, watching the world beyond.
Outside, the streets shimmered under amber streetlights, their glow stretching across the pavement like melted gold.
Couples walked slowly, as if time itself had softened for the night.
And then—there it was.
Not fully visible, not entirely hidden… but present.
The distant glow of the Eiffel Tower lingered in the atmosphere, its golden light brushing against the night sky.
Every now and then, it shimmered—like a heartbeat, like a secret signal meant only for those who were paying attention.
Inside, the warmth of the room and the quiet luxury of the place made everything feel suspended—like the world had paused just long enough for a moment to matt er.
She didn’t speak.
Because some nights aren’t meant to be interrupted.
They’re meant to be felt.
Author’s POV:
This wasn’t the end… just the beginning.
What lies ahead will change everything.
Mirrors are supposed to reflect reality.
But what if a mirror remembers things that reality wants to forget?