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“Ha, Huhhh!”

As soon as the distress signal was issued, the manager slammed on the accelerator, hastily taking off in the car.

He breathed heavily, like someone who had just emerged from the water, instinctively urged to get as far away as possible, pushing forward.

In the blink of an eye, the car vanished, and there stood a man.

The man placed his hand on his face, a visage lined with deep wrinkles.

Whether it was the left hand or the right hand held no significant meaning.

Both hands were identical in form, thus their usage was bound to be the same.

Hands must have differing shapes if they are to be distinct from one another.

Between the right and left hand lay a non-existent mirror, which should present a flipped shape.

But the reflection, by its nature, must show the reverse to hold any meaning.

Can something that reveals itself clearly be called a mirror?

If a mirror must reflect the opposite, can it truly be called so if it merely reproduces what ought to be reflected in reverse? What if it can be touched, and if there is no difference between that and me?

Then what truly is it— a mirror or another me?

The hand rose and scratched at the face.

Like a hook, the fingers scratched the face, digging as if to create different wrinkles from the existing ones. And as he applied force to drag down, liquid emerged from within the skin as if the earth’s innards were revealed.

It was too dark to be blood, yet it bore the unique texture of blood, making it hard to claim otherwise.

The man dug his nails deeper into the wound from which the dark liquid seeped.

As soon as his nails plunged halfway into the skin, he bent his fingers again, pushing one finger deep into the flesh.

Then, he gripped the skin tightly, as if to tear it, and—

The man’s skin peeled away.

“Ah.”

As mentioned, mirrors must reflect what lies before them to hold meaning.

But that mirror must be made of glass, with a pitch-black darkness on the other side to fulfill its role, suggesting a profound truth.

That is why people used mirrors in rituals.

The significance they encapsulated was immense, containing elements that represented both the divine and the human.

A thin pane of glass separating light and darkness.

A truly thought-provoking concept.

Thus, it wouldn’t be strange if such reasoning manifested in this very place.

“Ah.”

If the mirror held both light and darkness, then surely a person similar to a mirror must contain the same meaning.

And since the outside was undeniably bright, it was only fitting that the changing external world contrasted with the unchanging inner self, making the essence inside filled with darkness.

Hence, it was unavoidable that the man’s skin carried a pitch-black hue….

It was black.

The color seemed to gather shadows.

Yet, depending on the intensity of the light, this color would fade and darken repeatedly.

It had contours, but upon closer inspection, it was flat; it appeared three-dimensional, yet when touched, it had no form, resembling a phantom.

Yet, what enveloped the body was undeniably real, akin to the illusions mirrored, existing or not based on perception—a witty entanglement of reality and unreality.

Could this be modern art?

Could it be the feeling when entered into a dimly lit space with limited illumination?

Among modern art is such a thing.

Cunningly using human senses and visual illusions to provide a unique experience.

The shape of the man embodied that very notion.

His existence was an illusion, a phantom, while simultaneously being something real.

What, then, could this be called?

“Ahhhh…”

The man’s skin swayed, filled with dark shadows.

With a soft step, he moved forward noiselessly, though it was not truly walking.

Just as a shadow may accompany a person, without actually walking, the man’s movements resembled that— appearing to move but intrinsically not doing so. Merely imitating, a phantom, existing yet not existing, together yet devoid of presence, assigning little significance even if recognized.

A shadow.

The man used the hollowed hole of his mouth to utter sounds.

Those sounds belonged to the true owner of this form.

Where could a shadow exist alone?

A shadow is a phenomenon that clings to something and thus cannot exist independently.

Therefore, if there is a shadow, its owner must exist too—

And that owner is indeed with him now.

Yes.

To reveal that presence, is it not making sounds?

Living beings invariably make sounds; hence, it is fundamentally correct for something bearing a shadow to produce sound as well.

Thus, the man cloaked in shadow moves forward.

The three-dimensional shadow shifts, entwined with its host.

Shadow movements synchronize with the movements of the host.

It was no different from sights seen in daily life.

With every step, the shadow changed shape, making it ordinary and familiar.

But one must ask.

A person moves, and the shadow moves.

The shadow moves, and the person moves.

If their appearances are identical, what difference lies between them?

If there exists no difference, can there be a distinction between master and servant?

If no such distinction remains—

What, then, is a shadow?

—

“Ha, Huhh, Huhhh….”

Like someone who had just been choked, heavy breathing escaped.

The body, trembling like a seizure, had broken free from control, and the hands gripping the steering wheel transformed pale from tension. Above the wheel, the head was drenched in sweat, cascading like rain, while the legs quaked as if under torture, losing control.

“Huh, Huhhhhh….”

Half-closed eyes were watery, on the verge of tears, their bridge wrinkled with confusion; it was hard to tell whether what glimmered there was sweat or tears.

Drooling spit and snot flowed freely with sweat.

The image of the manager in the driver’s seat was that of absolute terror.

Anyone could instinctively sense he had undergone a frightening ordeal, and it would not be surprising if he fainted at any moment.

Yet astonishingly, amidst the fear, this manager still managed to fulfill his obligations.

He abruptly halted the car and escaped the grip of the strange man who had said he would read fortunes— not to mention he had somehow navigated away from the quiet road straight into the bustling city. Even the thought of the celebrity, Chaine, riding in his car, either instinct or instinctual panic had driven him to reach the predetermined hotel.

This was an extraordinary feat one would never think possible had the man with his head buried in the steering wheel achieved it.

“…It’s okay. That man has disappeared. Please, calm down.”

Beside the manager, Chaine sat in the passenger seat comforting him.

Since they had arrived at the hotel, she could have easily left him behind and gone straight up, but since she had not merely met the manager but had exchanged words and even experienced paying him for his fortune with a smartwatch, it would not have been strange for her to seek the solace of her reserved room.

Yet Chaine chose to remain in the parking lot with the manager.

Not just lingering together, but actively trying to calm her own trembling heart while comforting the manager—

It was a stark contrast to the untrustworthy managers she had previously encountered, portraying one who seemed somewhat terrified but could muster the courage to get things done when needed—a sign of respect for a reliable manager.

Or perhaps it was due to a sympathetic understanding from shared trauma.

In that moment, both the manager and Chaine were comrades.

Comrades who had faced the abrupt assault of a monster together.

And as in the battlefield, when a comrade was present, swift escape from chaos was possible.

“Phew… this, ah. I’m sorry. I’m such an unsightly mess…”

“It’s alright. I was quite startled myself.”

Thanks to Chaine’s gentle comfort, or perhaps the realization that someone beside him had shared a similar experience— the manager soon shook off the panic.

He tore open a towel wrapped in plastic from the glove box and wiped away the sweat soaking his body before roughly sipping the bubble tea he had bought earlier.

“Ker-Click! Cough! Cough!”

Had he choked on the bubble tea all of a sudden?

The man was left coughing.

“Ugh. I thought I was going to choke on the tapioca pearls…”

After coughing for a while, the man shook his head, leaning back against the seat.

Then, now with his tension completely melted away, he looked to Chaine.

“Sunmi. I was so startled, I didn’t attend to you. Are you… alright?”

“Honestly, I was a bit startled…”

In response to the manager’s question, Chaine smiled vaguely.

“…Perhaps because I’ve had my own experiences, it wasn’t as shocking as I expected…”

Could frightening experiences be categorized as experiences?

Surprisingly, Chaine’s tolerance for shock was significantly higher.

She wasn’t fainting or having a jitters in their current situation.

That surely accounted for why she had pulled the topic of “payment” first upon hearing about the fortune, and even thought of presenting her smartwatch as payment.

In that light, perhaps her past traumatic events had turned into surprisingly valuable nourishment.

“Good… then I’m relieved, but… huh. This is all new for me…”

Yet conversely, it also meant that for those who had never experienced such things, this could be a massive shock.

The manager’s eyes were drawn to the car window.

A strange man had appeared and drawn a smeared staff notation in blood upon the window.

“Let’s head upstairs and take a break. I think we both need to calm down a bit in our room.”

“…Yes. Then what about the next schedule…?”

“No, Sunmi… are you really worrying about schedules at a time like this? I’ll take responsibility and report upstairs. I’m sure with the circumstances, they won’t hold it against the schedule.”

The manager chuckled at Sunmi for thinking of schedules even in this situation, stepping out of the car and taking the elevator up to the hotel lobby.

He attempted to enter the reserved room but met—

“I’m sorry, dear guest. We sincerely apologize, but currently… there’s a problem at the hotel, and we cannot accommodate your reserved room. We’ll provide a refund and ensure you can stay at a much better room in another hotel, so we appreciate your understanding…”

What awaited them was a hotel staff member continuously bowing in apology.

 

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