Date: 1987

  Era: Late 20th century, Japan

  Requestor: Kenji Nakamura, age 34

  The rain was endless that year. It painted the windows of Kenji Nakamura’s apartment with silver streaks that blurred the city beyond into a haze of neon ghosts and concrete shadows. The world outside pulsed with life, but inside, silence reigned.

  Kenji was an antiques dealer by trade, but a seeker of darker truths by obsession. The back room of his shop held objects most customers never saw—items whispered about in fringe occult circles, relics lost to history and memory. And at the center of them all stood the mirror.

  It had arrived in a shipment from a decaying estate in Kyoto. The movers refused to touch it without gloves, muttering old prayers under their breath. The mirror stood nearly six feet tall, its frame carved with twisting black vines and foxes whose eyes seemed to follow anyone who dared look too long. The glass itself was wrong—too dark, too deep—and at times, it pulsed with a faint ember light.

  Kenji couldn’t stay away from it. Every night, after closing the shop, he would sit before it, watching. At first it was fascination. Then obsession. The reflection never stayed still. Behind his image, flames flickered. Shadows moved. And always, eyes watched him. Red eyes, patient and unblinking.

  Then came the night everything changed.

  He stood before the mirror, sleepless and trembling. The glass rippled. And then words appeared, written in a script that shimmered like firelight.

  “Do you wish for revenge?”

  He didn’t answer with words. He didn’t need to.

  “Yes.”

  The world tilted. The mirror flared. Kenji reached for it, and it pulled him in like water swallowing a stone.

  When he opened his eyes, he was no longer in his apartment.

  The room was dim and cold. Plush toys lined the shelves—hundreds of them. Rabbits, bears, dolls with stitched smiles that seemed far too wide. Some turned slightly as he looked at them. Their eyes glowed faintly, as if alive. The scent of old velvet and dust filled the air.

  And then she appeared.

  She looked like a child at first. Pale skin, long dark hair, a simple white dress. She held a plush fox close to her chest—its eyes stitched with crimson thread, its grin unnervingly human. But her own eyes… they burned. Ember red. Ancient.

  You called me, she said softly.

  Kenji tried to speak, but the words died in his throat.

  I know what you want. Her voice was calm, almost kind. But revenge has its price. Your soul… will be mine. And in return, I will grant you your desire. The people who hurt you will suffer. One by one.

  He thought of his father, the iron man who taught with fists. He thought of his mother, who wielded silence like a knife. He thought of Shinji, the golden son who left and never looked back. And in that moment, Kenji felt nothing but rage.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  He nodded.

  The plush fox tilted its head, pleased.

  Everything began that same week.

  His father’s business empire collapsed overnight. Stocks vanished, partners betrayed him, and government investigations swarmed his name. A man who once towered over boardrooms died clutching a bathroom sink, whispering to a mirror.

  His mother’s health dissolved like paper in the rain. No doctor could find the cause. Her voice faded to a whisper, and her bones withered in a hospital bed as she murmured old family secrets to an empty window.

  Shinji came back only to meet his end. A brutal crash in the outskirts of Yokohama. The paramedics said the scene was unexplainable. The skid marks curved in ways that defied physics. Witnesses claimed they saw a petite woman on the road—too pale, too still.

  Kenji watched from a distance. He smiled at first. Satisfaction poured through him like liquor, sweet and burning. But something was wrong.

  He began to notice shadows that shouldn’t be there. Movements in reflections that didn’t match his own. Lily was always nearby. Sometimes in a mirror. Sometimes in a dream. Sometimes standing in the corner of his vision, just watching. Her ember eyes glowed, unreadable.

  And with every act of vengeance, Kenji felt lighter. Not in relief, but in loss. His memories dulled. His emotions frayed. The fire that had driven him now left ash.

  On the final night, he returned to the mirror.

  It was time. They were all gone. He expected peace. Maybe even thanks.

  But the reflection didn’t show him.

  It showed her.

  Then it flickered. For a moment, the face in the mirror was his again. But not quite. His eyes were red. His smile was not his own. The hair is too long, the features subtly altered.

  Then the reflection moved on its own.

  It smiled.

  And Lily stepped through the glass.

  He backed away, heart hammering.

  “What is this? Why do you look like me?”

  Her voice was soft, almost mournful.

  “Because you are me now, Kenji. This is the cost. You gave yourself to the fire. You let vengeance consume you. You wanted it more than anything. And now, you have it.”

  He screamed. He begged. But his voice cracked and vanished.

  His skin rippled. His face melted like wax. Something inside twisted. His mind cracked open, and memories began to fall out. His name. His face. His story.

  Lily held the plush fox, now smiling wider than ever.

  “You’re mine now,” she said.

  And he bowed.

  He didn’t remember why.

  Years passed, or maybe none at all. Time doesn’t flow the same where Lily walks.

  Kenji Nakamura was gone. The man who once cried out for justice now stood in silence at Lily’s side, dressed in black, his eyes empty and obedient. He moved with grace, with purpose, tending the other souls, guiding the new arrivals who whispered her name in desperation.

  In moments of quiet, Lily would look at him with a strange sorrow. Not regret. Not pity. But recognition. She, too, had once been a soul like his.

  The mirror stands ready. It waits in another place, another room. Perhaps in a shop, or an attic, or an abandoned home. Its ember glow never fades. Its question waits patiently, etched in fire.

  “Do you wish for revenge?”

  When the world ignores your screams, I will hear you.

  If your hatred burns bright enough, I will come.

  But revenge comes at a cost. And no one escapes the fire.

  Status: Revenge fulfilled. Soul integrated into service

  Case : Closed