"Well… this UI is actually kind of beautiful."
Jiang Ping had just launched the game and was surprised by what greeted him. Clean layout, elegant transitions, polished buttons—it looked genuinely professional.
Though he was far from an expert, and only a part-time "LSP" (a certain kind of gentleman gamer), Jiang Ping had dabbled in a few similar games. Most of them were messy. Even when they used major engines like Unity or Ren'Py, their interfaces looked like hastily stitched-together assets from random websites.
But Magic Mirror? This was different.
His eyes widened. "Wait, only one character to start with?"
In the center of the screen sat a glowing diamond, containing character portraits inside. But only one was selectable: a dark-skinned elf girl. The rest were locked.
"So many characters… That's… ambitious," Jiang Ping muttered, half-impressed, half-curious.
Excitement quietly stirred in his chest. He glanced over his shoulder at the dormitory door—still closed. His roommates were out.
He stood, walked over, locked the door, and returned to his seat. Then, as if settling into a sacred ritual, he straightened his posture and took a deep breath.
A thought popped into his head: Dark-skinned elf, huh? That's pretty spicy…
Following the tutorial prompts, he clicked on what looked like a combat icon.
"On this moonless night, the long-forgotten Blackwater Castle welcomes unexpected guests..."
"From the silent shadows, a faint form begins to emerge..."
The screen transitioned into gameplay.
Jiang Ping blinked. "Wait... this isn't just a visual novel?"
He had expected lewd illustrations and basic choices, not… this. Was this a full-blown match-3 battle system?
He clicked around, slowly realizing what was going on.
Orange balls boosted physical attack. Swords dealt physical damage. Stars were for magic. Potions restored HP.
Linking four pieces created a powered-up orb. Five would summon a "magic diamond" that unleashed massive damage. There were props, special skills, and a 13-round combat limit. This wasn't just fluff—it was real game design.
"Damn," he murmured, eyebrows raised. "This isn't some excuse for fanservice. This is actual gameplay!"
His surprise grew with each click. Compared to other games in the same genre, which often amounted to tapping through poorly translated lines and watching low-effort animations, Magic Mirror felt like a full-fledged puzzle RPG.
And it had a story.
A real one.
Even the "gentleman content" wasn't just thrown in. It was integrated—there were clear mechanics, plot progressions, emotional setups, and consequences.
Grinning, Jiang Ping bent over the desk, quickly switching off his speakers and plugging in a discreet earbud.
He needed full immersion.
As he scored a critical combo, the elf's HP dipped below a threshold. Her clothes—cheap and clearly medieval—started to tear.
"Oh… so that's how they handle that," Jiang Ping smirked. "Guess the Middle Ages really didn't have good textiles…"
Still, he was impressed. The vertical illustrations were striking, the attack sound effects surprisingly crisp. Even the voice acting didn't feel forced—it had weight and character.
Thirteen rounds later, Jiang Ping had cleared the stage. The game moved seamlessly into the next scene.
He leaned back in his chair, stunned.
"This is on another level…"
All the other gentleman games he'd tried before suddenly felt like a joke. They either had the "gentleman" part without any real game underneath, or they were just lazy cash grabs—soulless and rushed.
But Magic Mirror? This was something else entirely. Quality content, solid mechanics, meaningful writing… and even emotional stakes.
And apparently, there were multiple endings.
After unlocking the "pure love" ending on his first try, Jiang Ping couldn't stop thinking about the branching options. The dark elf's progress meter showed 50%. There was clearly more to see.
He dove back in, curious to explore the other path—the one that might lead to corruption, not redemption.
Ten minutes later, he sat frozen in front of the screen. The second ending hit differently.
The elf, once noble-born, had chosen to help the commoners. To feed them, she'd even sold herself.
But the very people she saved? Ugly. Shameless. Resentful. When she was captured, they didn't protest. They whispered, watched, and waited for her fall.
Even a kind-hearted guard—at first hesitant—eventually gave in to base instincts.
Outside the dungeon, the devil smiled in the shadows.
Jiang Ping exhaled slowly, shaken.
It wasn't just the erotic content that left a mark—it was the underlying despair. The moral decay. The betrayal.
It was too real.
He could finally understand why so many respected players and reviewers on the forums had praised the game in such strange, poetic terms.
This wasn't just a "gentleman's game." It was a mirror held up to the ugliest corners of human nature. A story about goodness swallowed by corruption. A question of whether kindness still mattered in a world that rewarded cruelty.
He found himself thinking:
Is Mencius right—that human nature is fundamentally good?
Or was Xunzi right—that humans are born with darkness in their hearts, and must be taught to behave?
How could people repay compassion with such ugliness?
Jiang Ping had booted up the game out of curiosity, maybe even thirst.
But now?
He sat in silence, earbuds still in, and thought hard.
And the game was only just beginning