Ahaan couldn't sleep.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the mirror boy — standing in the corner of his room, smiling with sharp teeth, waiting to take his place.
The voice in his head whispered again.
"You must find the Red Room… Before he does."
So, the next morning, Ahaan packed his bag:
The cursed journal
A broken piece of the mirror (just in case)
A flashlight
And a photo of his father, taken years ago in front of the orphanage
He walked toward Blackthorn Orphanage, which now felt more like a living creature than a building.
Its windows were cracked like broken eyes.
The wind made it groan.
The air around it was thick, like the place didn't want him coming back.
But Ahaan didn't care.
He was done being scared.
The journal flipped itself open when he stepped inside.
CASE THIRTY-THREE: The Red Room Below
"The Red Room was built before the orphanage.
A room where promises were made…
And something old was fed in return."
A map burned into the page.
It showed a secret staircase, hidden under a trapdoor in the dining hall.
Ahaan followed the directions.
Dust and silence filled the air as he walked through the empty halls.
Old toys lay broken on the floor.
A rocking horse moved on its own.
A doll's head slowly turned as he passed.
He reached the dining hall.
In the middle of the floor was a large, rusted trapdoor.
Chains covered it.
Symbols were drawn in chalk all around it — symbols that looked like twisted eyes.
But something strange happened when Ahaan stepped closer.
The trapdoor opened on its own.
With a long, slow creak.
And cold air poured out from below.
It smells like blood… Ahaan thought.
He climbed down the stairs.
Each step groaned under his feet.
The deeper he went, the colder it got.
At the bottom, there was only red light.
The hallway walls were painted with handprints.
Small ones. Children's.
Some were fresh.
Some… were moving.
He followed the tunnel until he reached a giant wooden door.
A single word was carved deep into it:
TRADE
The voice in his head returned.
"Your father came here.
He traded something important…
For you."
The door creaked open.
Ahaan stepped inside.
And stopped breathing for a second.
The room was huge.
The walls were red.
Not painted… soaked.
Like blood had been wiped all over them again and again.
In the center of the room was a stone table.
Chains. Nails. Scratches.
And sitting on the table — a photograph.
Ahaan picked it up.
It was his father.
And a baby boy.
But not just any baby…
Two babies.
Twins.
One wrapped in a white blanket.
One in red.
On the back of the photo, it read:
"Only one could live. I chose light. Forgive me, son."
Suddenly, a cold wind filled the room.
Ahaan turned.
The mirror boy was standing in the doorway.
He looked more solid now.
Real.
Alive.
"This is where he left me," the boy said.
"He made the deal. He gave me up."
Ahaan backed away.
"What do you want from me?"
The boy's eyes glowed faint red.
"I want your place.
I want my life back.
One of us must stay in the Red Room.
Forever."
The walls began to bleed.
Chains from the ceiling dropped down, swinging toward Ahaan.
He ducked and ran, dodging them.
The journal burned in his hand, glowing:
"Do not fight the reflection.
Embrace the truth.
And choose."
The mirror boy grabbed him.
They both fell to the floor.
Their faces were inches apart.
Same eyes. Same skin. Same heartbeat.
Ahaan gasped.
"You're not evil…"
The mirror boy's smile faded.
For a moment, he looked scared.
"I just wanted to live too…"
Ahaan stood up.
He reached out his hand.
"Then come with me. Let's both live."
The room shook.
The walls cracked.
The chains stopped moving.
And the red glow faded.
Suddenly, the Red Room vanished.
Ahaan blinked.
He was standing outside the orphanage again.
The journal was closed.
The mirror piece was gone.
But when he looked into the window glass beside him...
He saw the other Ahaan standing next to him.
Not behind.
Not inside the glass.
Beside him.
And for the first time — the boy smiled without evil.
Now....