Hope stood frozen, his breath shallow.
His muscles were tense, a thin layer of cold sweat clinging to his skin.
He didn't move.
Didn't even blink.
His reflection had just grinned at him.
And not in a normal way.
The way its head had tilted, the way its lips had curled into that unnatural, knowing smirk—
It wasn't a trick of the light.
It wasn't his imagination.
It was real.
And the worst part?
It was still watching him.
The air in the room felt thick, suffocating.
Hope could feel the weight of his own pulse, each beat thudding loudly in his ears.
Move.
He willed his body to step back.
To turn away.
To do anything.
But his limbs refused to obey.
Then—
Knock. Knock.
A sudden, sharp rap on the door.
Hope flinched.
His heart jerked in his chest, his breath hitching.
For a split second, he looked away from the mirror—
And when his gaze flicked back—
His reflection was normal again.
Expressionless.
Blank.
As if nothing had ever happened.
Hope felt a shiver crawl up his spine.
His hands clenched into fists.
Was it messing with him?
Did it know he had seen it?
The knock came again, firmer this time.
Taking a shaky breath, he forced himself to move.
His legs felt stiff as he walked to the door, his fingers hesitant as they gripped the handle.
He opened it.
Clara.
She stood in the doorway, still clad in her combat suit, a stack of files clutched under one arm.
Her eyes were tired, dark circles forming beneath them.
She looked like she hadn't slept in days.
Hope didn't say anything.
Neither did she—at least, not at first.
She scanned him quickly, her sharp gaze flicking over his sweat-soaked face, the stiffness in his posture.
Then, without missing a beat—
"Go to sleep, Hopeless," she said flatly.
Her voice was firm, but there was something offhanded about it.
Almost like she was too exhausted to care what kind of state he was in.
Hope narrowed his eyes slightly.
Did she know?
Could she tell that something was wrong?
But before he could think too much about it, she continued—
"Tomorrow is going to be a long, long day for you."
Her words held weight.
A warning.
Then—
She glanced past him, her eyes flicking around the room.
Her gaze briefly lingered on the mirror.
She didn't say anything.
Didn't ask any questions.
But the pause was enough to make Hope's skin crawl.
After a moment, she turned away.
Hope took the opportunity.
"Are the mirrors in this facility… normal?"
Clara stopped mid-step.
Her back was still to him.
She hesitated.
Then—
"Uh?"
A questioning sound, almost dismissive.
Like she didn't quite understand—or didn't want to.
Hope immediately regretted asking.
"Tch—forget it," he muttered quickly. "My bad."
Without waiting for a response, he shut the door.
The metallic click of the lock sounded louder than it should have.
Hope exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly now that she was gone.
Then—
His eyes flicked to the mirror.
His chest tightened.
No.
He wasn't looking.
Not again.
His instincts screamed at him to turn away, to ignore it.
To pretend it was normal.
Slowly, he walked to his bed.
Sat down.
The air felt heavier now.
He lay back, pulling the thin sheets over himself, willing his body to relax.
He knew he wouldn't be able to shake the uneasy feeling crawling in his gut.
But still—
His exhaustion won over.
Hope let out a slow breath—
And sank into a deep, dreamless sleep.