Min-Jae stood frozen, his breath visible in the sudden chill that filled the room. The mirror in front of him wasn't just reflecting his image — it was showing something else. Behind him, in the glass, a shadow moved. But when he turned around, there was nothing. Only the quiet creak of the decaying school floorboards and the steady drip… drip… drip… from the leaking ceiling.
"Min-Jae..." the whisper came again — not from the room, but from inside the mirror.
He stumbled back, heart hammering, eyes wide. The mirror's surface rippled like disturbed water. Then, a hand pressed against the inside of the glass. Pale. Slender. Not his own.
"No," he murmured. "This can't be real."
The hand slowly slid down the glass, leaving behind a trail of bloody smears. Min-Jae backed away until he hit the wall, unable to tear his eyes from the grotesque scene. His phone buzzed in his pocket, breaking the silence.
It was a message from Yejin.
Yejin: "We found something. Come to Room 204. Now."
Still shaking, Min-Jae bolted out of the room, glancing one last time at the mirror. The hand was gone. So was the blood.
He raced through the hallway, now bathed in a sickly yellow glow from the flickering overhead lights. The silence was thick, heavy — almost pressing against his ears. He reached Room 204, flinging open the door to find Yejin and Ha-Neul crouched over a pile of old yearbooks and teacher files.
"You won't believe what we found," Yejin said, holding up a black-and-white photograph. "This is the 1993 graduating class. Look closely."
Min-Jae stared. The class stood in front of the school building, their faces serious and posed. But in the corner, barely noticeable, stood a girl. She wasn't smiling like the others. Her hair hung over one eye. Her uniform was different. Almost old-fashioned.
"That's her," Min-Jae whispered. "That's the girl from the mirror."
"She doesn't belong in this photo," Ha-Neul said, flipping the yearbook to the student list. "Her name isn't mentioned anywhere. It's like… she was added in later. Or forced her way in."
Min-Jae felt the cold again, creeping up his spine. "Who is she?"
Yejin pulled out a newspaper clipping buried in the files. The headline read: "Local Girl Disappears in Abandoned School — Only Mirror Found Broken." The date was July 20th, 1993.
"That's today," Ha-Neul whispered. "Exactly thirty-two years ago."
The room grew colder. A gust of wind slammed the windows shut even though they were never open. The lights flickered off, plunging them into darkness.
And then the laughter started.
Soft. Girlish. Echoing through the walls.
Min-Jae grabbed a flashlight and shone it around the room. The beam landed on the chalkboard — now smeared with red letters spelling: "COME FIND ME."
"She's playing with us," Yejin said, gripping Min-Jae's arm. "This isn't just a haunting. It's a game. And if we don't play, she won't let us leave."
Min-Jae's voice was low. "What happens if we lose?"
The lights buzzed back on for a moment. In that brief flash, they all saw it — a reflection in the window. The girl. Her head tilted, a twisted smile on her face.
When the light flickered off again, she was gone.
Ha-Neul was already gathering the files. "We need to find that mirror. The one from the newspaper. It might be the key."
"Or the curse," Yejin muttered.
Together, they moved down the hallway, deeper into the school. Every step felt like it echoed louder than the last. The air smelled of old wood, mold, and something else — iron, sharp and familiar. Blood.
They found the mirror room again. But this time, the mirror had changed. The cracks had vanished. It stood tall and perfect. And it was glowing.
"This is it," Min-Jae said. "This is where she disappeared."
Suddenly, a voice rang out — sharp and angry. A girl's voice.
"You don't belong here."
The door slammed shut behind them.
They turned — but the mirror was no longer reflecting them. It showed a classroom, but from decades ago. Students sat in rows, heads bowed, a teacher writing on the board. But all of them… were dead.
Blood pooled at their feet.
The girl from the photo stood at the center, her eyes hollow. She raised a finger and pointed directly at Min-Jae.
"I've been waiting for you."