The night was deep. The digital clock on my desk bled red numbers past midnight. Outside, the world slept in a silence occasionally broken by the distant roar of a car on the highway. Inside, there was only the low hum of my laptop entering sleep mode and the frantic drumming of my own heart. A monument of textbooks and revision notes for tomorrow's exam lay on my desk, a silent testament to my hard work. My university assignments were done, but my mind was far from calm.
My eyes were fixed on the object lying on a clean cloth beside my laptop. The ancient silver mirror.
Ever since I'd brought it from the storage shed this afternoon, the object had seemed to radiate an aura that pulled at my consciousness. Curiosity was now defeating my exhaustion. With a slightly trembling hand, I reached for it. The mirror was cold in my palm, its weight unnatural, too dense for its small size. My fingers traced the strange carvings on its frame, spiral patterns that felt alive beneath my touch.
Its surface was still tarnished. I stared at the blurry reflection of my own face. An ordinary young man with slightly messy hair and tired eyes. Nothing special. But behind my own shadow, I felt something else. Something sleeping.
"Who are you, really?" I whispered to the mirror, a foolish question born of exhaustion and imagination.
As if answering my call, a faint pulse emanated from the mirror's handle. It was warm.
I flinched, almost dropping it. GASP! The mirror's surface, once dull, began to emit a soft, violet glow, like embers in the dead of night. The light pulsed in sync with my now-galloping heart. The scent of jasmine and incense, which had been a faint whisper since the afternoon, suddenly billowed thick and heavy in the air, so potent it felt intoxicating.
Fear began to snake its way up my spine, but I couldn't look away. My eyes were glued to the darkest corner of my room, between the wardrobe and the wall. From that shadow, a plume of dense, indigo-colored smoke began to creep out.
The smoke didn't disperse like normal smoke. It writhed, danced, and coiled in the air like living silk. Its movements were slow, deliberate, and impossibly sensual. Slowly, in the center of my room, the smoke began to form a silhouette. The curve of a perfect hip, then a slender waist, followed by a smooth back and beautiful shoulders. It was as if an invisible sculptor was creating a masterpiece from nothingness.
In a few seconds that felt like an eternity, the smoke faded. And there, lying in a seductive pose on my simple bed, a woman appeared.
My breath hitched in my throat.
She was completely naked. Her skin was as smooth and pale as marble, glowing softly under my desk lamp as if reflecting moonlight. Her body was the embodiment of the wildest fantasy: full, perfectly round breasts with dark pink nipples that defied gravity; a slender waist that contrasted with her wide, full hips; and a pair of long legs folded lazily, inviting the eye to trace every curve. Her ink-black hair spilled across my worn-out bedsheets, creating a stark contrast between celestial luxury and my mundane reality.
Her face... her face could make a saint forget his god. Full, ripe lips, a sharp nose, and a pair of obsidian-black eyes that were now staring straight at me. In those eyes, I saw a flash of amusement, an ancient mischief, and an intelligence as sharp as a sword. She showed no shame at all, instead radiating an aura of power and ownership, as if this cramped room was her throne, and I was her property.
I couldn't move, couldn't think. A mixture of paralyzing fear and overwhelming fascination rooted me to the spot.
The woman smiled faintly, the smile of a predator who has finally found an interesting prey after a long sleep.
"Are you done staring, Human?" her voice sounded, not through my ears, but whispering directly inside my mind. It was as soft as velvet, yet as sharp as broken glass. "Or do you require more... intimate... proof that I am real?"
The words echoed in my head, each syllable feeling like both a caress and a threat. The air in my room felt heavy, as if all the oxygen had been sucked out by the presence of the creature before me. My throat was dry. I tried to swallow, but it felt like swallowing sand.
"Wh-what..." I managed to croak, my voice hoarse and trembling. "What do you want from me?"
She laughed softly. Not a joyful laugh, but an ancient one, full of knowledge. With a movement more fluid than water, she rose from the bed. I instinctively took a step back, my back hitting my closed door. She didn't walk; she seemed to glide across the floor without a sound. She drew closer, and that intoxicating scent of jasmine intensified, stabbing at my senses.
"What I want?" she repeated, now standing directly in front of me. Her obsidian eyes scanned my face, as if reading every hidden fear and desire. "My wants are simple, Human. I want to feed."
"Feed?"
"Yes. I am an entity that lives on emotion. The stronger the emotion, the more delicious the meal," she whispered. Her slender, translucent finger rose and almost touched my cheek, making me feel a strange chill. "And the strongest emotion of all, the most nutritious... is lust. Desire, ambition, jealousy, forbidden love... all of it is a feast for me."
She turned and glided towards my desk. She picked up a Calculus textbook in a strange way—her hand seemed to pass through the book, yet the book lifted with it. "Our oath has been spoken. In return for waking me, I will lend you a sliver of my power. The 'Absorbent Touch'."
"How does it work?" I asked, my curiosity beginning to overpower my fear.
"The principle is the same as how I feed," she answered, placing the book back down. "Touch, desire, and absorb. But remember this," she turned, her gaze sharpening. "This power is only a loan. It requires fuel. Its fuel is my food. If you do not feed me, I will starve. And if I starve, your power will fade to nothing."
The next morning, I woke up feeling as if I hadn't slept at all. My head was spinning, and every detail of my conversation with the Jinni—Jasmine, she had called herself—was replaying in my mind. There was no sign of her presence. My room was back to normal. If it weren't for the silver mirror, now gleaming spotlessly on my desk, I would have thought I'd gone insane.
With heavy steps, I left my room, intending to get a glass of water before heading to campus. The upstairs hallway was quiet. But just as I passed the bathroom, the door suddenly flew open from the inside.
CRACK!
"Oof!"
I collided with the figure coming out of the bathroom. The figure stumbled backward, and my hands shot out reflexively to keep her from falling.
My hand landed on a bare, warm, and wet shoulder.
It was Olivia.
My breath caught. She had just finished showering, wrapped only in a white towel that was wound tightly around her body. Her wet hair dripped water onto her neck and shoulders. Her face, softer without her glasses, was now flushed with shock and anger.
And then, the touch happened.
The moment the skin of my palm made contact with her damp shoulder, a strange sensation like a static shock shot up my arm. My head was slammed by a wave of information and feelings that were not my own. Triple integral formulas... anxiety about the upcoming exam... and an explosion of emotion—shock, embarrassment, and a burst of white-hot anger at having her privacy violated.
From the impact, the towel wrapped around her body had slipped slightly. On her pale, smooth hip, just above her pelvic bone, I saw it. A hidden tattoo. Not a flower or a butterfly, but an artistic design of a thin chain, with a small padlock right in the center. A secret ink so contrary to her bookish image.
"Let go!" she hissed, pulling her shoulder from my grasp. She quickly readjusted her towel, glaring at me with narrowed eyes, before rushing into her room and slamming the door.
I was left standing frozen in the hallway, my heart pounding. My mind was in chaos, not just because of the nearly-nude sight of her body, but because of three things: the sensation of that power, the feeling of her emotions, and the secret of that tattoo.
When I got back to my room, Jasmine was waiting for me, sitting in my desk chair with a look of pure bliss. "Magnificent!" she sighed with satisfaction. "That explosion of emotion just now... shock, shame, anger... like fireworks! A delicious morning snack!"
I was still in shock. "I... I felt her thoughts..."
"Of course," said Jasmine. "That is your power. Do you see its potential now? That girl, Olivia, is a goldmine of emotion. Her ambition, her pride... it's all high-quality food."
Jasmine's eyes glinted slyly. "And now, it's time for our first main course."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Your first mission. You have a Calculus exam today, don't you? She's obsessed with being the best. She must have studied all night," Jasmine said. "You've already absorbed some of her knowledge when you touched her, and you can perfect it by touching her book. Your mission is simple: Crush her in that exam."
I fell silent. My face paled. "But... that's cheating. She's my rival, but that doesn't mean I should destroy her like that."
Jasmine laughed, this time without humor. "You think this power is a fair game? Our oath is sworn. I need to eat to exist, and you need me to keep this power. Just think of it this way," she continued in a more persuasive tone, "this is the fastest way to make that arrogant girl finally acknowledge you. Isn't that what you want? For her to stop looking down on you?"
I looked at my own hand, the hand that minutes ago had felt the warmth of Olivia's skin and stolen her knowledge. I remembered Olivia's dismissive glares. I remembered the feeling of being invisible in this house. Doubt warred with temptation in my heart.
Finally, with a heavy sigh, I looked at the Calculus textbook on my desk. My face hardened, morphing into a cold mask that felt foreign. A mixture of guilt and a new, dark ambition churned inside me.
The game had begun.