The Mirror

At the entrance of the old building, the reflection of a man in his sixties, Old Wayne, could be seen in the mirror, staring intently down the long corridor.

In the deathly silence, a steady, rhythmic sound echoed from within.

"Thump… Thump… Thump…"

Old Wayne's brow furrowed, his eyes filled with shock he couldn't hide.

'The noise is coming from the old cold storage. But how is that possible?'

That cold storage wasn't just a place where no living soul could enter—it was also somewhere no restless spirits could haunt.

Turning in the mirrored world, Old Wayne walked along the corridor in his reflection.

At the end of the hall, past the invisible boundary, lay complete darkness, an abyss even the mirror's reflections couldn't penetrate.

With a tense expression, Old Wayne felt a growing urgency gnawing at him.

'Something has gone horribly wrong.'

The old administrative building stood at the back of Serenity Funeral Home, isolated but tightly guarded by both obvious and hidden protections.

As the only unmonitored access point, it was Old Wayne's post to watch over twenty-four hours a day. The old cold storage itself was the most secure defense, rendering anything that crossed the threshold—living or non-living—powerless in an instant.

Over decades, nothing had ever crossed that line.

No spectral entities, no anomalous phenomena had ever defied its defenses.

The only person allowed inside had been Harry, whose unknown feature let him move freely there. Otherwise, any trespasser would be instantly neutralized.

'So how can there be any movement?'

Old Wayne clenched his teeth, leaving the old administrative building within the mirror. He passed into the mirrored reflection of the funeral home's backyard.

In the mirror world, Serenity Funeral Home appeared under the ominous cover of massive, shifting shadows that radiated an unspeakable pressure.

Everything in the courtyard looked ancient, covered in decay and rot. Trees stood bare, their twisted branches reaching out like clawed fingers in silent agony.

No moonlight illuminated the sky. Everything was shrouded in layers of shadow, pitch-black past a radius of ten meters.

In the darkness, the crematorium was the only building that shone with light, casting a small radius of brightness around it.

Old Wayne kept his head down and moved cautiously towards the crematorium's light. In the dark, something seemed to sense his presence, rustling and stirring in the shadows, with occasional gusts of wind howling from afar.

He fought back the instinct to run, instead standing frozen, holding his breath.

Only after a long moment did the rustling die down.

Moving forward cautiously, the faintest sound would stir up the noises once more.

Step by step, he edged toward the crematorium, navigating the delicate tension between sound and silence.

Finally, he entered the lighted zone of the crematorium, and the unsettling sounds withdrew.

Relieved, Old Wayne breathed out.

Luckily, the crematorium was close to the old administrative building—any farther, and he wouldn't have made it.

He slipped inside and found Old Jack's small office. There, mounted on the wall, was a small circular mirror. Within it, the real world reflected back: Old Jack sat there sipping on a drink, scrolling through his phone.

Old Wayne exhaled and knocked gently on the mirror's surface.

Startled, Old Jack set down his drink and reflexively grabbed his crowbar, scanning his surroundings with heightened caution.

"Old Jack, it's me. Look in the mirror."

Standing about a meter away, Old Jack squinted at Old Wayne in the mirror, still gripping the crowbar tightly.

"It's really me. Call the director—something's moving in the old cold storage."

Old Jack's eyes narrowed, his grip tightening.

"Come on, it's me. Remember the first movie we ever watched together? I snuck it in for you, remember? It's still hidden in the bottom drawer, taped to the back of it."

Old Wayne, desperate, rattled off the proof without thinking twice.

Old Jack froze, then cautiously checked the drawer. His hand brushed against the tape, and there it was. Without hesitation, he whipped out his phone and dialed the director, putting it on speaker.

The phone rang twice before Director Keith answered.

"What's the matter?"

"Old Wayne's reporting that there's movement in the old cold storage."

"What?" The director was stunned but didn't dwell on the improbability. "When did it start? How long?"

Old Wayne's voice responded from the mirror. "At least an hour ago. I can't track time accurately here."

"Got it."

Keith hung up and immediately began making calls. The first one was answered almost instantly.

"Hey, Kai… yes, something's moving in the old cold storage… What? There's an incident on your end too? Alright, understood."

Keith's face darkened as he hung up. It made sense why Kai had answered so quickly; there was already trouble brewing at Serene City. A large team had been mobilized, but from what he heard, their situation sounded even more complicated.

And now the old cold storage was acting up, too. This couldn't be a coincidence.

As Keith relayed the orders, staff across the city received calls, waking them from sleep.

Harry, too, answered the phone. Quickly donning his uniform, he rushed downstairs and called for a ride.

Halfway to the entrance of his complex, he got a call back.

"Hello, sir. Sorry, but that location is too far for me to drive at this hour. I'm going to have to cancel."

Harry watched as his request was refunded, the driver opting for the penalty rather than taking the job.

He sighed. Late at night, rides to the funeral home, which was in the outskirts, were rarely accepted.

'I have to save up for a second-hand car—this is just too troublesome.'

Trying his luck again, he requested another car and spotted one just down the street. Quickly, he ran to the intersection and recognized the plate number.

Without hesitating, Harey rushed over and showed his phone to the driver.

"Mister, I'm the one who requested the ride. I've got an emergency."

The driver looked at him in surprise, glanced at the destination, hesitated, then unlocked the door. Harry slid into the car and finally breathed a sigh of relief as they drove off.

"Thanks for this."

"Don't mention it. Everyone's got their emergencies…" The driver sighed. "My dad passed away just yesterday. His service is at the funeral home tomorrow."

"My condolences… Rough night to be driving, though."

"Couldn't sleep. Too much noise at home—too many people. Just wanted some air."

The rest of the ride passed in silence, the car speeding along.

———

Meanwhile, Victor, who had also received the call, sat in the backseat of a vehicle heading for Serenity Funeral Home, his thick laptop balanced on his lap as he maintained real-time communication with his support team.

"Sir, a car's entered the three-kilometer perimeter around the funeral home. It's Harry's ride."

"Leave him. Monitor for any other movement."

"There's a black SUV circling the nearby residential area. It hasn't left and just crossed into the three-kilometer zone. The car's registered to an elderly man, but it's suspicious."

"Have the closest team intercept it for inspection. Be prepared to use force if necessary."

——

Harry looked out the window as they passed a parked vehicle with flashing red and blue lights, with a line of trucks stationed behind it. His first thought was that it was a nighttime weight inspection.

But seeing that they were only a few miles from the funeral home, he figured it was the Blazing Sun Divison securing the area, intercepting large vehicles under some pretense.

As they pulled up to the entrance, Harry thanked the driver and paid his fare.

The driver, wearing rimless glasses, adjusted them slightly and gave Harry a slight smile.

"No need to thank me. Do you need a ride back?"