The darkness ebbs away slowly as I open my eyes, my heavy eyelids dragging with the weight of a pounding headache. The world doesn’t feel right; gravity pulls me in directions it shouldn’t, and the faint rush of air brushing against my skin tells me something’s wrong. It takes a moment to register: I’m suspended, hanging somewhere. A dull ache claws its way into my awareness, memories of a blow flickering briefly before slipping out of reach. I glance—down? Up? Everything spins—and I’m greeted by a disorienting sight.

  Thick, weathered ropes crisscross the ceiling—or floor—like the chaotic web of some colossal spider. Dim bulbs dangle lazily from coiled wires, their weak yellow glow illuminating swirling motes of dust in the stale air. The scene below—no, above me—is surreal: mannequins clad in brightly colored circus costumes stand frozen, their lifeless eyes staring into the gloom. Cracked mirrors reflect fragments of the bizarre tableau, while rows of splintering wooden chairs line the space like spectators to a ghostly performance. The faint aroma of caramel mingles with the sharp tang of oil paint, an odd, unsettling combination.

  Voices break through my haze, sharp and grating. “We need to hand him over to the boss right now! You do know what happens if we’re late, don’t you?” snaps a girl, her voice high-pitched and tense. I manage to turn my head just enough to catch a glimpse of her. Ember-red eyes blaze with intensity, and her dark purple-dyed hair flares around her like a stormcloud. She stomps about in frustration, her movements erratic. She can’t be more than sixteen.

  “Relax, Aiden,” another voice cuts in, calm and unbothered. A young man leans back in one of the creaky wooden chairs, his messy black hair falling over his forehead as he tilts it lazily. “You know the boss is performing right now. Handing this guy over would only interrupt the show. Besides, look at him.” He gestures toward me with a casual wave. “We don’t even know who he is. What if we’ve got the wrong guy?”

  Aiden’s response is disturbingly cheerful. “If it’s the wrong guy, we’ll just kill him.” Her words cut through the room like a blade, her tone almost playful. “But I doubt it. We’ve been tailing him since he left the dungeon, and the book our master wants is still in his possession.”

  I try to steady my breathing, forcing down the panic rising in my chest. My hands are bound tightly, the ropes biting into my skin. Blood rushes to my head, making it hard to think, let alone respond. Still, I can’t stop myself from glaring at the pair, my mind scrambling for a way out.

  “Oh, please,” the man sighs, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Anyone can own an old book. I’d bet my last coin he’s just some…” His words trail off as he steps closer, squinting at me. “Hey, you. What’s your name?”

  I try to answer, but my throat is dry, and the spinning world makes forming words impossible. All I can manage are faint, broken murmurs.

  “See? He can’t even talk,” the man declares, waving a dismissive hand. “We should’ve done more recon before grabbing him. If this is a mistake, I’m not taking the fall.”

  Aiden’s patience is clearly wearing thin. She glares at him, her crimson eyes practically glowing. “What if the boss is waiting for this guy as we speak? That book is crucial for tonight’s performance,” she snaps, kicking the chair he’s lounging in. It creaks dangerously but doesn’t topple over.

  “Really, Aiden? Do you think your empty threats scare me?” The man, Ramlen, rose from his seat with deliberate laziness, brushing nonexistent dust off his trousers. The bits of real dirt stuck to the fabric, almost like they were teasing him for trying to clean it off.

  “I’m not bluffing, Ramlen. If we’re late, you’ll be the one explaining things to the boss. I’m done covering for your sloth.”

  Ramlen’s response was a dismissive shrug, though a flicker of irritation crossed his eyes. “And if we’ve got the wrong guy, you’ll be the one explaining.” He stretched languidly, like an old man weary of the world. “A quick nap sounds far more appealing than enduring your endless complaints.”

  Aiden glared, clearly about to fire off another sharp comment, but she stopped herself with an irritated sigh. By then, Ramlen was already strolling lazily toward the far exit of the room.

  “I’ll watch him,” Aiden muttered in a mocking tone, mimicking Ramlen’s earlier words. “As always, he naps while I do all the work.” With a frustrated kick, she struck the wobbly chair again. Its protesting creak echoed, unsettling a nearby mannequin that swayed slightly on its stand.

  Ramlen glanced back briefly before disappearing through the door. “You’re too uptight, Aiden. Why not have a chat with the kid?” He waved carelessly, not bothering to wait for a response, before the door creaked shut behind him.

  Silence reclaimed the room, broken only by the faint whisper of air slipping through frayed ropes. Aiden’s jaw tightened as her gaze flicked to me, still dangling helplessly. “Why not have a chat with the kid,” she muttered mockingly.

  Dropping into the rickety chair Ramlen had vacated, Aiden stared at me with narrowed, piercing red eyes, as if trying to unravel my thoughts. I met her gaze, though my head throbbed and I felt dizzy from hanging upside down, with all the blood seeming to pool in my head. I tugged at the ropes binding my wrists, testing for even the smallest weakness in the knots.

  “Hostages don’t get to talk,” Aiden’s voice sliced through the stillness, cold and sharp. Gone was the earlier petulance; this was a predator speaking, calculating and unyielding.

  I smirked faintly, my thoughts tinged with dry defiance. “What happened to the whining brat from earlier? And who said anything about talking?”

  Despite myself, I chuckled, a bitter laugh that barely reached my lips. “Why are you so sure I’m the right guy? Your friend’s got a point—there are thousands of people in Wetlands carrying old books. Snatching someone fresh out of an antique shop doesn’t guarantee you’ve caught your target.”

  Aiden didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes drifted upward, as though searching the ceiling for answers. Meanwhile, I kept working at the ropes digging into my skin, each movement calculated and deliberate.

  “If we’ve got the wrong person, we’ll just grab someone else,” Aiden muttered eventually, more to herself than anyone else. “The master said he’d be here for the next seven days. We’ve got time.”

  She rose slowly, each step deliberate as she approached my suspended form. “Though, if this is another mistake, the punishment will be severe. But the master’s anger… it’s for our own good. It drives us to work harder.” Her slender yet strong fingers grabbed a fistful of my golden hair, yanking my head to eye level. Aiden’s fiery gaze burned with unsettling intensity.

  “For you, however,” she continued, voice icy, “the outcome is the same either way. If you’re the wrong person, we’ll kill you. If you’re the right one, the master will. Your fate is sealed.” She released her grip abruptly, leaving a sting on my scalp.

  Swallowing hard, I tried to steady my breathing. This girl was unhinged.

  “Isn’t it just the book you’re after? Check my bag. It’s in there. Honestly, I’ve been meaning to get rid of it anyway,” I offered, my tone almost casual.

  Aiden laughed, but it didn’t sound happy at all. “The book isn’t the only thing the master is after.” She sat back down, playing absentmindedly with the ends of her dark purple hair.

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  Leaning forward slightly, Aiden fixed me with a predatory stare, her index finger pointing deliberately. “Maybe you haven’t noticed,” she hissed, her voice as smooth and venomous as a serpent’s, “but we’ve been watching you ever since you left that dungeon.”

  The words hit me like a hammer. They knew. My whole body froze, as if my blood had turned to ice in an instant. The world around me seemed to stop, leaving only the echo of that sentence ringing in my head. They already knew I stole this body!?

  The dizziness was wrecking my balance, making my mind feel like it was being clawed apart by invisible hands. But before I could gather any words to respond, Aiden spoke again.

  “Maybe you think someone who hit your head with a metal bar and hung you up like this is a psychopath,” she said, a faint smile tugging at her lips—a smile as cold as winter frost. “You’re the only one who survived that dungeon. The only one. And you’ve been living like nothing happened?”

  Her tone was so smooth, almost a whisper, but every word stabbed deep, making my entire body tremble. I tried to speak, but my words were strangled by the fear swelling in my chest. Finally, I forced some sound from my throat, though it came out more like a broken scream.

  “You saw it!?” I blurted, my eyes wide and my voice sharp with shock.

  Aiden stared at me for what felt like forever before shrugging. “I told you, we’ve been watching you ever since you first stepped into that dungeon,” she said flatly, as though it was just some minor detail.

  I racked my brain, trying to make sense of her words. “Wait, you mean you saw me when I first went in there? When? How!?” The ropes creaked as I squirmed wildly, the anxiety pushing me to fight against my restraints.

  Aiden’s irritation was plain on her face. “What kind of question is that?” she shot back with a biting tone, shutting down the conversation curtly.

  “I’m serious! You know something even I don’t!” I thrashed around, my body swinging back and forth, making the ropes dig even tighter into my wrists. The pain didn’t matter anymore, panic had taken over.

  She sat down with an air of calm, her legs swinging idly above the floor, too short to reach it. Her glowing red eyes focused on the tiny fish swimming gracefully behind the glass of an aquarium, their movements perfectly in sync with the artificial current. She lifted her hand and tapped the glass with her finger. The sound echoed softly, breaking the suffocating silence in the room.

  A second tap followed, louder this time. The fish scattered, darting in every direction like clouds blown apart by a sudden gust of wind. But the girl only smiled faintly, a smile that somehow felt like a challenge.

  “See?” she said, still not looking at me. “Just like them, you’re swimming in circles. No way out, no purpose. Just endless confusion.”

  Childish, I thought. But I knew they might be the only ones who knew the truth about me. Still, this girl remained a fortress of silence, her cold expression giving nothing away.

  I tried to read her movements, searching for any cracks in her icy exterior. But there were none. Her blank stare stayed fixed on the little fish, as if I were just a shadow in the corner of her eye.

  “Hey, please. Tell me what you know. In return, I’ll tell you what I know from that book,” I shouted desperately. But she didn’t budge. Her gaze stayed on the fish, as if I didn’t even exist in the room.

  “Hey, can you hear me?”

  “Hello? Your kidnapped guy is talking here!”

  “Come on, I know you can hear me! Don’t pretend to be deaf!”

  I sighed heavily, then tried again. “You’re really not going to talk? Is this part of some weird game you’re playing?”

  “Hello?! It’s me, your kidnapping victim! The least you could do is act interested,” I added with a tone full of irritation.

  Silence. Only the soft sound of water from the aquarium filled the room. I huffed in frustration.

  “Alright, you want to play it this way? You know, I can keep talking all night! I won’t stop until you answer me! Hey! Listen to me!”

  Still no response. I started thrashing harder, my body swaying left and right, the ropes creaking as if mocking my efforts.

  “Listen! I know you can hear me! You’re not deaf, are you? Hey, I know you’re there! Are you really going to ignore me like this?”

  Suddenly, she stood up quickly. The scrape of the wooden chair against the floor made a sharp, grating noise. Without saying a word, she walked to a small table in the corner of the room, her hand feeling around for something on its surface. Then, with quick steps and a sharp gaze, she strode toward me. Her glowing red eyes gleamed with a faint menace, freezing me in place. I instantly regretted calling out to her over and over.

  When she reached me, her right hand moved fast, shoving a damp cloth into my mouth. The smell of caramel mixed with cotton candy hit me like a punch, making me want to gag. The wet fabric covered my mouth perfectly, silencing me completely.

  “I told you, didn’t I? Don’t talk,” her gesture commanded silence. “I can’t stand listening to you anymore,” she said flatly.

  I tried to take a deep breath, but the wet cloth pressed tightly against my mouth made each inhale feel like a struggle to avoid drowning. Aiden returned to her chair with unhurried steps, as if what just happened was merely a routine distraction. Her finger tapped the aquarium glass again, the rhythm slow but somehow deafening.

  I drew another deep breath, this time deeper, trying to calm the storm inside me. My thoughts raced wildly. The ropes around my wrists began to feel looser—the knots were tricky, but frustration gave me the strength to keep trying.

  I twisted my wrists slowly, creating a tiny gap between my skin and the rough rope. The fibers scraped my skin raw, leaving a stinging pain, but I didn’t care. Aiden seemed completely absorbed by the fish, her eyes locked on their graceful movements behind the glass.

  Seconds stretched into what felt like endless minutes. I knew I had to move quickly, but not recklessly. With each tiny pull, the knot began to weaken. Sweat trickled down my forehead, dripping onto the cold wooden floor. Finally… snap. One knot came undone. My hands were free.

  I held myself back from moving too fast, even though every part of me wanted to spring to my feet. Slowly, I began untying the ropes around my ankles. My fingers worked quickly but carefully, ensuring I didn’t make a sound that might draw Aiden’s attention. The damp cloth in my mouth muffled every heavy breath I struggled to keep quiet.

  When both my legs were finally free, I bit down on the cloth and yanked it out with a sharp motion. I held it in my hands, making sure it didn’t fall and make noise. I glanced at Aiden again. She was still sitting, her finger tapping the glass with a steady rhythm.

  This was my chance. I took my first step, slow and almost silent. The old floor beneath me felt fragile, every plank like it was waiting to creak and ruin my plan. I knew the door behind me was the only exit I’d seen. But it felt like miles away under the constant threat of Aiden’s awareness.

  When I reached the door, I turned the wooden handle as slowly as I could. The hinge gave a faint squeak, shattering the silence like a death knell. I froze, every muscle in my body locked in place.

  Aiden stopped tapping the glass. The last tap hung in the air, then she spun around to face me. Her gaze was sharp as lightning, her glowing red eyes blazing like embers fanned by the wind.

  “Hey, stop!” she shouted, her voice echoing through the room. She jumped to her feet, the old chair she had been sitting on clattering to the floor behind her.

  I didn’t wait. I yanked the door open with all my strength, darting into the room beyond and slamming it shut behind me. My hands trembled as I leaned against the wooden door, trying to hold my breath.

  “Don’t go in there!” Aiden shouted from the other side, her voice a mix of anger and worry. My grip on the door handle tightened, but I couldn’t help myself.

  “It’s not what you think. That room—You don’t understand what you’re walking into!”

  I hesitated, but the tension in the air pushed me forward. “And you think hanging me up like some pi?ata was better? Excuse me if I don’t trust you!” With that, I slammed the door shut, locking it with a firm click. Her frustrated pounding began immediately, but I didn’t wait to see what she’d do next.

  Before me stretched an endless room, its walls lined with countless mirrors. My reflection multiplied infinitely in their cold, glassy surfaces. Dozens? Hundreds? Thousands? Was this what people saw at carnival mirror mazes? No, this was nothing like that. The air here was thick and icy, weighing down on me, making it hard to breathe. Something was wrong. I could feel it in the pit of my stomach. The reflections weren’t just images; they stared back, their eyes unblinking, their expressions subtly shifting as if they knew something I didn’t.

  I took a step forward, and the sound of my movement echoed unnaturally in the stillness. Then, one of the reflections smiled. It wasn’t my smile.