Chapter One: The Mirror's Message
That day, I found a kid. Where? I don't remember. Maybe I never did. Maybe he found me.
We became a family—me, my son, and our dog, Night. We laughed. We healed. We lived as if the past had no teeth. He wore superhero underwear and believed in saving things. And I believed him.
Years passed.
One night, I woke to a noise from the bathroom. I smiled, thinking it was my son trying on the new superhero briefs I'd bought that morning. But Night was barking—a sound I hadn't heard in years. Not playful. Not curious. Panicked.
I rushed in.
There was blood. A knife. And someone standing there. But only my son remained.
The knife was in his hand. The blood belonged to a man I didn't recognize. Or maybe I did. Maybe I'd buried him in memory long ago.
And then— I fainted. Not from pain. Not from injury. From the weight of it all. The blood. The blade. The boy.
When I woke, my son was sitting beside me. His eyes were clear. He remembered everything. The blood. The knife. The man.
He looked at me and said, "He was a scary-looking man.""You didn't have to worry, Dad.""Because I'm a superhero.""And I will protect you."
I couldn't speak. Not because I was afraid. But because I knew— He wasn't just protecting me from a man. He was protecting me from the truth.
I said those words to him. But inside, I was unraveling. His smile was too calm. Too proud. Like he'd won something I didn't know we were fighting for.
And his hand—still holding the knife. Not trembling. Not ashamed. Just… steady.
That's not how a child holds a blade. That's not how a child smiles after blood. That's not how a child protects.
I wanted to hug him. I wanted to run. I wanted to ask who taught him to smile like that. But I just stood there. Frozen. Between love and fear. Between father and witness.
Night whimpered. The bathroom light flickered.
And on the mirror, written in steam:
"You can't keep what was never given."
Chapter Two: The Smile That Was Mine
My son began killing criminals. Quietly. Efficiently. Like a superhero stripped of cape and mask—armed only with a knife and a purpose. I never asked where he went at night. Never questioned the bruises. Never wondered why Night, our dog, stopped barking. Because he told me, "I'm protecting you." And I believed him.
The day the police came, everything shifted. The interrogation room was cold, the officer's eyes sharper than the fluorescent light above us.
"It's not me," I said. "It's my son."
His brow furrowed. "Your son? You don't have a son."
I nodded slowly. "I know. I found him."
"Where?" "I… don't remember."
He scribbled something down, then slid a screen across the table. "Show me his picture."
My hands trembled as I pulled out a photo. A child. Smiling. Superhero briefs. Just a kid. "It's my fault," I whispered. "I didn't know how to raise him."
The officer's gaze hardened. "Yes. I know."
Confusion clawed at me. "What do you mean?"
He pressed play.
On the screen: a man. A knife. Blood. A smile. I leaned closer, waiting to see my son. But there was no child. Only me. Knife in hand. Blood dripping. And the smile—
The same smile I had seen that night in the bathroom mirror. The smile I thought belonged to him. But it was mine.
My lips trembled as I whispered, "What are you?" But I wasn't asking the boy anymore. I was asking the mirror. And the mirror didn't answer. It only reflected the smile.
Chapter Three: The Office of Rebirth
"Sir… sirrr… sir, please… sirrrrrrr… oooh aa—sir, here."
The voice was distant. Glitchy. Like a broken alarm clock trying to sound polite.
I opened my eyes. White ceiling. Fluorescent lights. A desk. A man in a suit with no face.
"Yep," I muttered. "I died somehow."
I remembered being a workaholic. Skipping meals. Ignoring sleep. I think I died of hunger. How poetic.
Now I was here. The Office of Rebirth. A place that looked like a DMV but felt like a dream.
"So it's isekai time, baby," I said, half-joking.
The man didn't laugh. He slid a screen toward me. A video played.
Blood. A knife. A boy. A dog named Night. A father unraveling.
I watched it all—the horror, the smile. The son who killed criminals. The father who believed. The interrogation. The video. The mirror.
"Why did you show me that?" I asked.
"It's one of the worlds you can choose," the man replied. "We call it The First World."
"And the other?"
"You don't need a video for that one. Just the name."
He slid a paper across the desk.
Berserk.
I stared at it. The name alone was enough. Pain. War. Madness.
"Send me to the first world," I said.
"If you go there, you won't get powers. No system. No cheats."
"I don't want anything."
"Do you know what that world is?"
"Just send me."
The man nodded. Stamped the paper. The lights flickered.
And then—
Darkness.
Chapter Four: The Choice
Ok sir, that world it is."
The clerk tapped the screen. The lights dimmed. A soft hum filled the room.
"Do you want to keep your power, or will you use it?"
I blinked. "What power?"
The faceless man tilted his head. "Oh, you don't know this. Sir, if you are more than thirty and still single, then you get a power. Sage."
"Sage?"
"It can give you knowledge of anything, if you focus on that thing."
I laughed weakly. "I don't know if I should be happy or sad."
"Ok, so what's next?"
The clerk's voice was flat, mechanical. "Do you want to be on humanity's side, or the anomalies' side?"
"I will choose the strong side," I said. "Humanity's side."
The clerk's fingers danced across the screen. "Ok sir. You will be reborn as ninth-rank Crying Ghost anomaly in three… two…"
My chest tightened. "But… but I said humanity's side!"
"No sir. You said strong side."
"Wait—"
"One… zero…"
The hum became a roar. The lights shattered.