The reflection in the silver fruit had vanished by the time Eren blinked. Only his own wide-eyed face remained, pale and shaky in the warped surface.
Talia nudged him with her elbow. "Well? Did your mirror twin wave at you?"
"Very funny," he muttered, but his voice lacked bite. He couldn't shake the feeling of eyes staring back at him.
Talia bent closer to the fruit, making faces. "Ugh, my reflection looks terrible. This world clearly has bad lighting."
Eren didn't laugh. His gaze had been stolen by another flower—a cluster of pale white blossoms near the tree's roots. Their petals quivered as if breathing. And faintly, very faintly, they pulsed with a glow that matched his heartbeat.
"Talia," he whispered, "do you see that?"
"See what?"
"That flower. The glow."
She squinted. "Looks like a regular old flower to me. Maybe you've inhaled too much moldy perfume already."
"No," Eren insisted. "It's moving. Watch."
He crouched again, stretching a hand toward the blossom. This time he didn't hesitate. His fingertips brushed the petal—cool, soft, almost damp like morning dew.
The greenhouse answered.
A rush of light burst from the bloom, sweeping across the floor like a ripple of water. The vines stirred. Leaves unfolded. The silver fruits trembled, and a low hum filled the air.
Talia yelped, stumbling back. "Eren! What did you do?!"
"I—I don't know!" he shouted over the hum.
The flower opened fully, releasing a single glowing seed. It floated into the air like a firefly, circling his head before drifting into his palm. Warmth seeped into his skin.
"Okay," Talia said, wide-eyed, "that's officially creepy. Drop it, Eren."
But he couldn't. The seed rested in his hand as if it belonged there, its glow soft and steady. And when he looked back at the silver fruit, his reflection was gone again. Instead, he saw a girl standing among the mirrored plants. Her outline was blurred, but her eyes—he was sure—were watching him.
He whispered, "She's real."
Talia froze. "Who's real?"
"The girl. In the reflection."
Talia groaned. "Oh no. You've completely lost it. Step one: talking to yourself. Step two: glowing seeds. Step three: imaginary girls."
"I'm not imagining her," he snapped, then lowered his voice. "I know I'm not."
The seed pulsed brighter, almost in agreement.
Talia folded her arms. "Even if she's real, which I'm not admitting, what does that mean? That there's a secret world inside fruit bowls? That your grandma was secretly… what? A wizard farmer?"
Eren's throat tightened. "She always said there were doors everywhere. Hidden places, waiting for someone to open them. Maybe this was what she meant."
Silence stretched between them, broken only by the soft hum of the plants.
Finally, Talia said quietly, "Eren… I know you miss her. But chasing her stories won't bring her back."
Her words stung, but he clutched the seed tighter. "What if the stories weren't just stories?"
Talia sighed. "Then you're in way over your head. And knowing you, you'll dive anyway."
He almost smiled. "Probably."
She threw her hands up. "Fine. But don't drag me into a plant apocalypse. If this thing starts growing teeth, I'm out."
Eren ignored her warning. He walked toward a cracked wooden bench, found a pot filled with dry soil, and pressed the seed into it. The glow sank into the dirt like a star slipping under waves.
The soil shivered.
Green tendrils shot upward, coiling into a stem. Leaves unfurled with impossible speed, and within seconds, a new flower stood in the pot—white petals streaked with faint silver.
Talia gaped. "That… that's not normal. That's not even science."
Eren leaned close. The flower swayed toward him. Then, to his shock, it whispered.
"Eren…"
He stumbled back so fast he almost knocked over the bench. "Did you hear that?!"
Talia's eyes were wide. "I… heard something. But it sounded like—"
"Grandma," Eren finished, voice trembling.
The flower bent again, its petals parting. And there, as if woven from memory itself, came the faintest echo of Mira's voice:
"My brave boy… you found it."
Eren's breath caught in his throat. His hands shook.
Talia whispered, "Okay. Now I'm freaked out. Let's go before the tomatoes start singing too."
But Eren couldn't move. He stared at the flower, his heart pounding. The greenhouse wasn't just alive—it was listening. And somewhere, through reflections and seeds, someone else was waiting.