Aoi couldn't shake the memory of her warped reflection in the mirror.
Her shift ended at five a.m., the city still cloaked in darkness, a cold mist curling through the alleys. Hurrying toward her dorm, she felt eyes on her back. She glanced over her shoulder—nothing. Only her footsteps echoed on the wet asphalt.
Her next shift started at ten p.m. the following night. Descending the bar's slick stairs, Aoi replayed the previous day's strangeness: the shaker's eerie rattle, the blood swallowed by the counter, the shadow in the freezer. She wanted to chalk it up to exhaustion, but the unease in her chest wouldn't relent.
Behind the counter, Yamazaki greeted her with his usual oily grin.
"Did good last night, kid. It'll get busier tonight—stay sharp."
Aoi nodded, tying her apron.
While checking the bottles, she felt the prick of the silver earring still in her pocket—the one with thorn-like engravings. She hadn't thrown it away, though she couldn't say why. Tucking it into her apron's inner pocket, she steeled herself for the night.
By eleven, customers trickled in.
The first was an older man, his suit rumpled, tie loose. Gray streaked his disheveled hair, and deep lines carved his face. He sank onto a stool at the counter's center, hands trembling as he scanned the menu.
"Brandy, straight."
Aoi poured, but as the liquid hit the glass, a faint wisp of smoke curled upward. The man didn't notice, downing it in one go. With each swallow, the counter's grain seemed to pulse, alive.
Aoi blinked, doubting her eyes. She rinsed the glass in the sink, only for the water to turn black for a moment, a gurgling groan rising from the drain.
Next came the blonde woman from the night before, still in her striking red dress, now paired with a glinting necklace. She flashed Aoi a smile and took a seat at the counter's edge.
"Gin and tonic, please. Last night's was solid."
Slicing a lime, Aoi studied her. The woman's skin was unnaturally smooth, almost waxen. Handing over the drink, Aoi caught her whisper as she sipped.
"You know about this place? They say they used to do strange rituals down here."
Aoi laughed it off, but a chill slithered down her spine.
After the woman left, Aoi found a scrap of paper where she'd sat. Inked on it was an odd symbol—a distorted star inside a circle. She tossed it in the trash and got back to work.
By one a.m., the bar buzzed with noise. Aoi mixed drinks, polished glasses, and juggled orders. But the weirdness persisted. The shaker's rattle grew sharper—not a clatter now, but a grinding, like something scraping inside.
Gathering her nerve, she pried it open. Just ice and liquor. Yet the shaker's inner walls were etched with countless tiny scratches.
At two, a drunk customer in a booth started causing a scene. Bringing him water, Aoi felt his hand clamp around her wrist, fingers digging in. His eyes were bloodshot, his mouth twisted in a sneer.
"You're the new girl, huh? This place is cursed."
She yanked free and retreated to the counter, heart hammering. When she told Yamazaki, he just shrugged.
"Drunk nonsense. Ignore it."
But her dread only deepened.
Glancing at the mirror, she saw only herself—or should have. For a moment, a figure loomed behind her. She spun around—nothing. The mirror showed only her again. Breathing hard, she forced herself to keep working.
By three a.m., the crowd dwindled, and the bar fell quiet.
In the backroom, restocking bottles, Aoi spotted an old wooden box on a dusty shelf, secured by a rusted lock. Curiosity got the better of her. When she touched it, the lock clicked open.
Inside was a faded photo and a leather notebook. The photo showed a group of men and women in what looked like a bar, their faces unnaturally pale.
The notebook was filled with cryptic writing and the same star-like symbol from the paper scrap. The words were illegible, but they hummed with an almost incantatory weight.
As Aoi moved to close it, a noise snapped behind her. The freezer door was ajar. The shadow from yesterday writhed in its depths. She shoved the box back on the shelf and fled to the counter.
Yamazaki, puffing on a cigarette, eyed her pale face.
"What, see a ghost?"
Aoi could only nod. He laughed, exhaling smoke.
"This place? The deeper the night, the more things crawl out. You'll get used to it."
Aoi stood at the counter's edge, catching her reflection in the mirror. She looked haggard, like a stranger.
And in the mirror's depths, behind the bottles, a long, thin shadow swayed.