They always looked at me with those eyes.
Not kind. Not cruel.
Just… pitiful.
As if I were broken glass they were too afraid to touch.
The girl in the mirror tilts her head.
Soft hair. Pale skin. Eyes that look more lost than alive.
She blinks slowly, as if even blinking is too much effort.
This is the girl they all know. The quiet one who never speaks unless spoken to. The one who trips over her own feet and apologizes for existing.
The girl they think needs saving.
But mirrors lie.
Because at midnight, when the lights go out and the city forgets how to be kind—
She steps forward.
And I step back.
The girl in the mirror fades, and something else takes her place.
Same face. Same body.
But the eyes—
The eyes are no longer sad.
They shine like fire behind a porcelain mask.
Lips curl into a smile that's far too calm.
She hums to herself as she slips on her black gloves, her heels clicking against the marble floor of a place I don't remember entering.
She doesn't ask for permission.
She lives.
She rules.
Because in her world, there is no pity.
There is only power.
And her name…
Is Noire