After dinner, I went back to my room without saying much. The house was quiet. I turned off the lights and sat on the edge of my bed in the darkness. The only illumination came from the faint moonlight slipping through the curtains.
I reached down and picked up the ancient mirror, holding it in my lap. My reflection stared back at me — tired eyes, the crimson mark still visible on my face and arm like a cursed tattoo. I stared at it for a long time, silently hoping, wishing, even begging for something to happen.
But nothing did.
The mirror remained completely ordinary. Just cold glass. No ripple, no pull, no other world. The gateway that had ruined everything was now nothing more than a useless antique. I let out a long, heavy sigh and placed the mirror aside on the nightstand.
Exhaustion weighed down on my body, but my mind refused to rest. Every time I closed my eyes, fragments of yesterday flashed behind my eyelids — tentacles, blood, shame, pleasure, guilt. Sleep felt impossible.
A soft knock came at the door.
"Ren…? Can I come in?"
It was my mother's gentle voice.
"Yeah…" I replied quietly.
She opened the door slowly. The hallway light framed her silhouette for a moment before she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She was already in her nightclothes, her hair down. Without turning on the main light, she walked over and sat on the edge of my bed.
"You've been through a lot," she whispered. "I can tell you're having trouble sleeping. So… your mama will sleep with you tonight. Is that okay?"
I nodded silently.
She smiled softly and slipped under the covers beside me. The bed dipped gently as she lay down. Without hesitation, she pulled me closer, resting my head against her chest like she used to do when I was little. Her arms wrapped around me protectively, one hand slowly and rhythmically patting my hair.
"Shhh… it's alright now," she murmured, her voice full of warmth and love. "You're safe. Mama's here. Nothing bad is going to happen while I'm with you."
Her heartbeat was steady and calming beneath my ear. Her familiar scent — soft fabric softener, warmth, and home — slowly wrapped around me like a blanket. She continued gently stroking my hair, her fingers running through it in slow, soothing motions.
"You don't have to carry everything alone," she whispered. "Whatever happened… we'll face it together. You're my precious son. And soon you'll be a big brother too. So rest now, okay? Mama will stay right here until you fall asleep."
Her words and gentle touch melted something deep inside my exhausted heart. The heavy guilt, fear, and confusion that had been choking me all day slowly loosened their grip. For the first time since the nightmare began, I felt truly protected.
My eyelids grew heavier. The soft patting of her hand in my hair, her quiet breathing, and the warmth of her body next to mine created a safe little world that pushed the darkness away.
Within minutes, I drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep — held safely in my mother's arms.
------
I woke up the next morning to the sound of my mother's soft voice.
She was standing near the doorway, speaking quietly on the phone. Early morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room. I stayed still under the blanket for a moment, listening.
"Yes… I understand. I'll come right away… No, don't worry. I'll take the train… Okay, I'll see you soon."
She ended the call and turned toward me. When she saw I was awake, she gave me a gentle smile, though I could see worry in her eyes.
"Good morning, Ren. Your grandmother was hospitalized a few hours ago. Nothing too serious — just some complications with her blood pressure. The doctor said she'll be fine, but I need to go see her today."
She walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, brushing my hair gently with her fingers.
"I told her I'd come. Why don't you come with me? It might be good for you… get some fresh air, refresh your mind a little."
I shook my head slowly.
"…I don't want to go."
My mother looked at me for a long moment, understanding flickering in her eyes. She knew I was still scared. Scared that the mirror might do something while I was away. Scared that if I left the house, something worse might happen.
She didn't push me.
"Alright," she said softly. "I understand. I'll go alone then. I should be back tomorrow morning. I've already cooked rice, miso soup, and some side dishes for you. Just heat them up when you're hungry, okay?"
She leaned down and kissed my forehead warmly.
"Call me if you need anything. And Ren… try to rest today. You've been through enough."
I nodded quietly.
She gave me one last comforting smile, then left the room to prepare. An hour later, I heard the front door close as she headed to the station.
The house fell silent.
I was completely alone.
I stayed in bed for a while, staring at the ceiling. The mirror sat on my desk like a silent accusation. Even though it had done nothing since that night, its presence still made my stomach twist with anxiety.
About an hour after my mother left, the doorbell suddenly rang.
Ding-dong.
My heart jumped. I wasn't expecting anyone. Slowly, I got out of bed, still in my pajamas, and walked downstairs. I hesitated for a second before opening the door.
Standing there was Yuki Sensei.
She was dressed casually — a simple white blouse and long skirt — but she still carried that calm, authoritative presence. In her hands was a small paper bag. When she saw me, her expression softened with concern.
"Ren… good morning," she said gently. "I hope I'm not disturbing you. I wanted to check on you after yesterday. Your mother told me she had to go see your grandmother, so… I thought you might be alone today."
She paused, then offered a small, warm smile.
"Can I come in for a bit?"
------
Sensei removed her shoes at the entrance and stepped inside. I led her to the living room, where she sat gracefully on the sofa, her posture straight yet relaxed. The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room.
I quickly went to the kitchen and prepared a tray — warm green tea and a small plate of cookies my mother had baked a few days ago. My hands trembled slightly as I set everything on the table in front of her.
"Thank you, Ren," she said with a soft smile. "You didn't have to trouble yourself."
I sat on the single sofa nearby, keeping some respectful distance. For a while, we sipped tea in comfortable silence.
Sensei eventually spoke first, her voice gentle and caring.
"How are you feeling today, Ren? Be honest with me."
I stared into my cup for a long moment before answering.
"…Tired. Guilty. I keep thinking about yesterday. The rumors… are they bad in school?"
Sensei shook her head slowly.
"Nothing you need to worry about right now. There are always rumors after something like this, but they will fade. Children love to talk, but they also forget quickly. Your well-being is more important than what others are saying."
She asked about my physical condition — how my body felt, whether the wound was healing, if I had any pain. I answered honestly, my voice quiet. She listened carefully, nodding with genuine concern. At some point, she mentioned she had taken the day off from school specifically to check on me.
As we continued talking, the conversation gradually became easier. I found myself opening up more than I expected. In return, Sensei shared pieces of her own life.
"I was raised in an orphanage in Hokkaido," she told me quietly, a faint nostalgic smile on her lips. "It was cold most of the year, but the people there were kind. After I graduated high school, I spent several years doing volunteer work — helping at shelters, supporting children who had lost their parents, working with abuse victims. That's why I became a teacher. I wanted to protect students before they fell through the cracks."
Her words carried a quiet strength. She was a genuinely good person — warm-hearted, patient, and sincere. The more we talked, the more the heavy tension in my chest began to loosen.
After nearly an hour of conversation, the atmosphere between us had become much softer, almost intimate.
Sensei placed her teacup down and looked at me with deep, understanding eyes.
"Ren… intimacy and sex can leave deep scars, even when part of you thinks you wanted it. Your mind is clever. It tries to protect you by saying 'I enjoyed it,' or 'I let it happen,' because blaming yourself feels easier than accepting you were overwhelmed. But that's often a lie we tell ourselves to feel lighter."
She leaned forward slightly, her voice calm yet powerful.
"What happened to you was traumatic. The mirror, the loss of control, the things those girls did… none of that was truly your choice. You don't have to carry the guilt alone. You have to face it, feel everything — the shame, the pleasure, the fear, the confusion — and let it pass through you. Only then can you move forward."
A long, meaningful silence settled between us.
Then she spoke gently:
"Come sit beside me, Ren."
I hesitated for a second, then stood up and moved to the sofa, sitting close to her. My heart beat a little faster.
Sensei turned toward me, her expression kind and steady.
"Close your eyes."
I did as she asked, slowly shutting my eyes. The world went dark, but I could still feel her warmth beside me, hear her calm breathing, and smell the faint, comforting scent of her presence.