The next location was not a hotel.
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It was a half-demolished mental institution on the outskirts of the city, long forgotten by the maps and overtaken by weeds and fog. Aryan had to bribe a local to unlock the iron gates that creaked like they carried stories of the dead.
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Room 27 was on the third floor. The hallway smelled of mildew and something older—like rotting books and despair.
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As Aryan stepped in, the black journal pulsed in his coat. He followed its warmth until he stood before a rusted metal door marked “27” in flaking white paint.
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Inside, it was colder.
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The walls were lined with shattered glass. No windows — only dozens of broken mirror shards nailed to every surface. They reflected Aryan from every angle.
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But something was wrong.
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In every mirror, Aryan’s eyes looked… different. Glossier. Hollow.
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On the ground was a small mattress. And beside it — a hand-drawn portrait of a boy with completely silver eyes, smiling eerily.
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Then the door slammed shut behind him.
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---
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He turned.
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A boy stood there. About 12 years old. Pale, silent. His eyes weren’t just silver — they were literal mirror glass. Aryan could see his own reflection in them. But the reflection smiled back… differently.
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The boy spoke, but his mouth didn’t move.
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“Don’t look away. He doesn’t like that.”
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Aryan’s reflection stepped forward — but Aryan hadn’t moved.
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The mirror version raised its hand. Aryan froze.
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Suddenly, all the reflections in the room started to shift. In some, Aryan was screaming. In others, he was covered in blood. In one, he was missing.
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The real Aryan dropped to his knees, the journal clutched in his arms.
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"This place feeds on self-perception. On guilt. On denial."
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The mirror-boy tilted his head.
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“That’s how I disappeared,” he said softly. “I saw too many versions of myself, and forgot which one was real.”
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A mirror shattered behind Aryan.
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He turned to look.
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In its broken pieces, he saw not himself, but his sister — standing behind him, burning again. Crying for help. Reaching.
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He whispered: “I’m sorry.”
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All the mirrors shattered at once.
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Aryan blacked out.
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---
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He awoke outside Room 27. The door wide open. Morning light streaming in. In his pocket, the journal vibrated.
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Room 27 – Delivered
Room 6 – Final
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---
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Aryan stood slowly, eyes wet, breath unsteady.
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One more door.
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One final scream.
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To be continued...
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