Riku stood in front of the bathroom mirror, hands gripping the sink, sweat dripping down his neck. The school day had ended hours ago, but his body still hummed with the echoes of what happened in the music room. Her voice. Her moans. The way her body trembled when she came. The feeling of her vanishing in his arms.
He'd fucked a ghost.
And freed her.
It should've been impossible. But the scent of jasmine still clung to his skin, and his soul felt like something ancient had brushed against it.
He stared at his reflection, searching for some sign that he was still normal.
But the eyes looking back at him weren't just tired. They were changed. Haunted.
Then—he saw her.
Not in the room.
In the mirror.
Behind him.
A girl stood there, bathed in soft white light. Her head tilted slowly to the side, and her long, jet-black hair spilled down over her shoulders like ink over skin. She wore a school uniform—but it was old-fashioned, the kind from decades ago. Her skirt was long. Her blouse unbuttoned halfway. Her eyes…
They were wide, glassy, and full of tears.
Riku spun around.
No one was there.
But when he turned back—
She was closer.
Now just inches behind his reflected self.
"W-who are you…?" he whispered to the mirror.
The girl didn't answer.
She raised one hand and pressed her palm against the inside of the mirror. Her lips trembled, her eyes never leaving his.
Her mouth moved—no sound.
So Riku watched carefully… reading her lips.
"Help me…"
The bathroom lights flickered.
A jolt of cold air swept through the room, brushing along his neck like invisible fingers.
And then… her eyes dropped. Downward.
At his crotch.
His cock twitched.
A blush spread across her ghostly cheeks—visible even through the glass.
And slowly, she began to undress.
Button by button.
Her pale, trembling fingers worked their way down her blouse, revealing smooth skin, a flat stomach, and the curve of her breasts as the fabric slipped from her shoulders.
Her bra was delicate. White lace. Old-fashioned.
She unhooked it slowly. Her hands shook. Her chest rose and fell with uneven breath.
Then—she exposed herself.
Her breasts bounced softly as she pulled her bra free and let it fall.
Her nipples were small, pink, and hard. Her body was thin, fragile—but every part of her screamed untouched, unrealized desire.
Riku's breath caught as she slid her fingers down her skirt and began to lift it slowly.
And behind the glass, her panties—simple cotton, damp and clinging—were barely holding back her arousal.
She looked at him again.
Her lips moved.
"Come… inside…"
The mirror pulsed.
For one second—one impossible, terrifying second—his reflection was gone.
And hers stood in his place.
Hand outstretched.
Reaching.
Wanting.
Waiting.
Riku stepped forward, unable to resist, drawn to the reflection like a moth to flame.
As his fingers brushed the cold mirror—
It rippled.
Like water.
And she pulled him in.
The sensation of falling wasn't sudden.
It was slow.
Like sinking into a dream you couldn't wake up from—where your body turns weightless, your skin tingles, and your heartbeat becomes a drum guiding you deeper.
Riku stumbled forward, the cold surface of the mirror melting around his hand like warm syrup, pulling him through. For a brief moment, he couldn't breathe. His skin burned, then froze. The air was thick, wet, and charged like just before a thunderstorm.
And then—
He was standing in the same bathroom…
But not.
The walls were darker.
The light overhead flickered constantly, like it was trying to scream. The sink was rusted, the floor cracked. Everything felt wet, yet untouched by water.
And she was there.
The mirror girl.
No longer trapped behind glass.
She stood only a few feet from him, fully visible, bare from the waist up, her skirt barely hanging on, her body trembling.
Up close, she was breathtaking.
Her skin was pale, untouched by sun or time. Her breasts were small but perfect—round and perky, with sensitive pink nipples that hardened at the mere closeness of him. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, every movement speaking of nerves, longing, fear.
She reached out a hand, and Riku stepped forward instinctively. Their fingers met.
Her touch was cold—but real.
Solid.
"I've been trapped here…" she whispered, voice barely audible, "for fifty years. Waiting for someone… someone like you."
Her eyes were watery, lips trembling.
"They called me dirty. A liar. A tease."
Her fingers slipped around his hand, guiding it to her chest.
"I just wanted to love someone. To be held. To be… touched…"
Riku's palm brushed her breast. Her nipple stiffened beneath his skin, and she gasped softly, her body leaning into him.
"No one ever touched me… not like this. Not before I died. I was too scared."
Tears welled in her eyes.
"But I don't want to be a virgin anymore. I want you to be the one."
Riku didn't speak.
He let his lips press to hers—softly at first, a whisper of heat and breath. She trembled, whimpering faintly, then melted into the kiss like her soul had waited lifetimes for it.
Their mouths opened.
Tongues met.
She moaned into him.
His hands explored her back, her hips, sliding over her skin like silk wrapped in cold air. Her skirt slipped from her waist, falling to the floor.
No panties.
Her pussy glistened between her pale thighs—wet, untouched, dripping.
Riku gasped as she leaned back against the cold tiled wall, lifting one leg over his hip, pulling his body flush to hers. Her wetness smeared onto his pants, her folds warm despite her ghostly chill.
She looked up at him with teary, lustful eyes.
"I'm scared," she whispered.
He cupped her cheek.
"I'll be gentle."
His cock throbbed as he slid his pants down, the cold air licking at him like ghostly tongues. He was rock hard—ready. Her hand found him, stroking softly, clumsily.
She guided him to her entrance.
Her breath hitched.
And then—slowly—he pushed inside.
Her body opened to him inch by trembling inch.
Tight. So tight it felt like she might break.
She gasped—then moaned, her voice high and raw, a sound that shook the tiled walls.
"It's inside me…"
Riku kissed her neck, his hands holding her thighs, hips grinding gently. She clung to him like a lifeline, her walls fluttering around him.
Her virgin pussy clenched tighter with each thrust.
Their rhythm grew.
Faster.
Hotter.
The room echoed with wet slaps, moans, and her breathless cries.
"I'm cumming—ah! Riku—inside me—!"
Her body convulsed, her climax crashing through her like a wave breaking glass.
He followed—groaning, spilling deep inside her.
And just as she cried out his name one last time…
Her body began to dissolve into light.
Warm, golden, and free.
She smiled—peaceful, satisfied, glowing with release.
"You… made me real…"
Then—she was gone.
Riku collapsed to the floor, panting, covered in sweat and afterglow.
The mirror pulsed behind him.
He was back in the real world.
Alone.
But the echo of her moan still lingered in the air…
And so did her final whisper:
"One day… they'll all come for you…"
Riku sat on the cold tile, back against the bathroom wall, panting as sweat dripped down his chest. His cock was still twitching, soaked with the ghost girl's warmth. But she was gone now. Like the others.
Freed.
He had taken her virginity. Given her peace.
And in return… he was cursed deeper.
The scent of her still clung to the air—faint, floral, sticky. That jasmine perfume, tinged now with something saltier, more intimate. He could still taste her breath on his lips.
But this time, it was different.
Something had changed.
The mirror was no longer just a mirror.
It pulsed faintly—slowly—as if it were alive.
A crack formed along its surface.
Hairline thin. Barely visible.
But it was there.
Riku stood slowly, muscles aching, heart still racing. He pulled his pants up, trying to steady himself. His legs were weak—not just from sex, but from something more cosmic. A drain deep in his soul.
He stepped toward the mirror.
It reflected him now.
But there was someone else behind his reflection.
A figure.
No face.
Just a robe of black and violet, stitched with symbols he didn't recognize. It stood in the same space the mirror girl had stood. But this wasn't her. This presence was heavy. Ancient. Not seeking release—seeking claim.
And then it spoke.
Not aloud.
Into his head.
"Three have been freed.
Ten still wait.
But I will not.
You are mine now, Riku Tsukikage.
My vessel.
My pleasure.
My curse."
His breath hitched.
"What the hell are you…?" he whispered.
The figure didn't move.
It only lifted a hand—and dozens of faces began to appear in the mirror behind it.
Girls.
All of them beautiful. Crying. Moaning. Begging.
Some naked.
Some bloodied.
Some touching themselves.
One pressed her tits to the glass, her nipples smearing against the mirror as she mouthed something silently:
"Please… be next…"
Riku stumbled back.
His cock hardened again—unwillingly. Instinctively.
The figure raised its other hand.
And this time, the voice wasn't in his mind—it filled the room.
"You are the Virgin's Pact.
And your hunger has only begun."
Then—crack.
The mirror shattered.
Not outward.
Inward.
As if reality on the other side had collapsed.
The shards hung frozen in air for one long, heart-stopping moment.
And in each shard—a different girl looked back at him.
A different curse.
A different future climax.
Riku gasped.
Then, the glass fell—exploding into a thousand pieces, sharp and wet with spectral light.
When he looked down…
A key rested in the center of the wreckage.
Old. Ornate. Dripping something wet and clear.
Attached to it was a note, scorched at the edges:
"Your next one waits...
In the old hospital basement.
Room 108."