The Mirror's Shadow

The story of one's reflection appearing unfamiliar in old commercial buildings or certain accommodations is a common urban legend. Some said that their dimly reflected face in the dark mirror looked more tired than in reality, while others testified to the strange experience of momentarily not making eye contact with their reflection. Many share similar experiences, dismissing it as superstition, and they all agree that such phenomena are more pronounced late at night. I, too, initially considered it a mere optical illusion or psychological phenomenon.

The old artifact warehouse that needed investigation was located in a deserted house far from the city center. Amidst layers of dust and damp air, the only thing holding its place was a large antique full-length mirror. Its frame was decorated with dark reddish-brown wood, and its surface was as dark and murky as the traces of time. Even with the faint flashlight beam, it was difficult to properly discern my own reflection in the mirror. A chilling atmosphere lingered, but I just thought it was the gloominess of an old building.

I spent hours checking the warehouse inventory. As I grew accustomed to the darkness, I looked at the mirror again. It was the moment I put down the file I had just been holding under my arm, but the 'me' in the mirror was still holding the file. It was a fleeting moment; as soon as I blinked, the 'me' in the mirror also finished putting the file down. It must be an optical illusion from fatigue, I convinced myself. But a strange chill ran down my spine.

Before leaving the warehouse, I looked around one last time. That's when I saw it. Behind my reflection in the mirror, in an empty space where there was nothing, I saw a faint shadow, as if something was moving. There was definitely nothing in the actual space. My breath caught in my throat. I stared straight into the mirror again. The shadow was gone. As if it had hidden itself before I could turn around.

My heart felt like it wasn't beating properly. I moved closer to the mirror. I stared intently at my face. My pale, tired face was in the mirror. I slowly raised my right hand to touch my face in the mirror. The 'me' in the mirror also raised its right hand, trying to meet mine. But subtly, ever so subtly, the hand in the mirror moved before mine. My fingertips grew cold.

I lowered my right hand. My hand was perfectly by my side. But the 'me' in the mirror was still holding its hand up. Fear came not as a simple form, but at the moment when the rules of the world I knew were twisted. The 'me' in the mirror was no longer my shadow. It was as if... it had been waiting for me, standing quietly with its hand raised.

The 'me' in the mirror slowly tilted its head. It was a movement I had not made at all. The movement was filled with a strange curiosity, as if the entity beyond the mirror was observing me. In an instant, the corner of the 'me' in the mirror's mouth strangely curved upwards. It was an expression I could not make. It was a chilling smile, completely different from my expressionless face.

I watched that smile slowly widen. The coolness transmitted through the mirror's surface made my whole body freeze, past my fingertips. I realized. This mirror was not a mere reflective surface. It was a window through which something else had been watching me for a long time. And now... that entity had realized that I had ‘perceived’ it.

I stumbled backward from that spot. I couldn't tear my gaze away. The thing in the mirror remained motionless, smiling. That smile would continue until I completely disappeared from its sight. Until the moment I closed the warehouse door, I couldn't forget that smile in the mirror. The antique mirror, left alone in the abandoned warehouse. Whose face had that mirror been reflecting, truly? And who is it waiting for now? The mirror is still there.