Sayaka was the first to break. "It's her!" she shouted, voice hoarse with fear. "It's always her! Just look!"
Her accusation snapped through the silence like a whip. Mina flinched. Ms. Kaori's candle nearly slipped from her shaking hands.
Reina smirked faintly. "Finally. Someone with the courage to point fingers."
"Courage?" Yume's voice cracked. "You call this courage? She's terrified!"
"Oh, we all are," Reina said softly. "That's the fun part."
Ayaka's eyes filled with tears. "It's not me… please believe me—"
Her reflection tilted its head. The same movement — delayed, deliberate.
Cracks spread through the glass behind it, webbing out like veins.
The air grew colder. Candles began to gutter. The flame of Toru's candle was the only one that stayed calm, burning white and still — like it was watching them.
Ms. Kaori stepped forward. "Stop. Everyone stop. We can't just start accusing each other."
Her voice trembled, but it carried strength, a fragment of her old authority. "There has to be another explanation."
Grimm's voice slid in through the speakers, smooth and mocking.
"There always is, dear teacher. But explanations never save anyone."
Ms. Kaori's jaw clenched. "You're killing them for entertainment."
"No," Grimm said gently. "For honesty. Fear is the truest form of confession."
The mirrors trembled, as though agreeing with him. In every reflection, their faces twisted — wide eyes, bleeding mouths, grotesque smiles that didn't belong to them.
Yume pressed her palms against her ears. "Stop it… stop it!"
But Grimm's laughter only grew softer, richer.
"Ah, music to my ears."
The ticking sped up.
Toru saw something glisten on Ayaka's arm — a dark smear, crawling up her skin like liquid shadow. She tried to hide it, but the candlelight betrayed her.
"Ayaka," he whispered. "What's that on your hand?"
She looked down — and froze. Her fingers were stained black, the same color that bled from the shadow earlier.
"I… I don't know," she stammered. "It just— it's from the candle, it has to be."
But her candle wasn't black.
Grimm's tone turned quiet, almost playful.
"A puppet never bleeds. Only the puppeteer does."
The others turned toward Reina again. Only Toru looked at Ayaka.
And that was when the first mirror screamed.
A high-pitched shriek of glass splitting filled the air. The reflection of Ayaka's face warped — melting, twisting, and then grinning wider than any mouth should.
She stumbled backward, clutching her candle. "Make it stop! Please!"
Mina burst into tears. "Help her! Please, do something!"
The reflection moved. Slowly, impossibly, it stepped out of the mirror.
It looked like Ayaka, but its skin shimmered like oil. Its eyes were bottomless wells of ink. Its smile was alive.
Ayaka backed away until her shoulders hit the wall. "No… no, it's not me. It's not me!"
The shadow raised its hand, and Ayaka mirrored it without realizing. The same motion, same trembling fingers.
"Stop moving!" Toru shouted.
She tried — but the puppet didn't.
It reached forward. So did she. Their hands met.
And when their fingers touched, the reflection sank into her.
Her scream split the room.
Black veins crawled up her neck and jaw, pulsing under her skin. Her candle flared violently, the flame twisting from yellow to blue to black.
Yume lunged toward her, crying out her name, but Toru caught her and pulled her back. "Don't touch her!"
Ayaka's voice warped, layered with something inhuman. "It's not me… I didn't want this…"
Grimm sighed in mock sympathy.
"Denial. My favorite act."
The chandeliers above exploded, raining glass and flame. Candles went out one by one until only Toru's remained, shining cold and white in the darkness.
Ayaka collapsed to her knees, clutching her face as ink poured from her eyes. "Toru—help me!"
He stepped forward — but the moment he did, she looked up, and her expression had changed.
She was smiling.
"You left me," she whispered. Her voice was both hers and not. "You all left me to die."
She rose to her feet, limbs jerking like she was being pulled by invisible strings. The shadow behind her followed every motion perfectly now — no delay, no error. They were one.
Reina whispered, "The puppet's gone… she became it."
Sayaka stumbled backward, her voice shaking. "She's possessed—she's—"
Ms. Kaori stepped forward, tears streaming down her face. "Ayaka, listen to me, please. Fight it."
Ayaka's eyes flickered. For one fleeting second, something human glimmered there. "Ms. Kaori…"
Then Grimm's voice came through again, smooth and terrible.
"Ah… the teacher's faith. How tragically beautiful. Let's see how far it stretches."
Ayaka's body convulsed. Black fluid burst from her mouth. The reflection's grin stretched until its face split open — and they screamed together.
Every mirror in the room shattered.
The glass shards hung in midair for an impossible moment, catching the candlelight, reflecting a thousand images of Ayaka's face — all screaming, all twisting, all falling apart.
The smoke swallowed her.
When it cleared, there was nothing left but her candle. Its flame flickered once, then died.
Ms. Kaori fell to her knees. Yume screamed and buried her face in Toru's chest. Sayaka was silent, trembling, her knuckles white around her candle. Reina simply watched, smiling faintly — though her eyes were cold.
Grimm's voice returned, low and pleased.
"How exquisite. A performance so raw it hurts to applaud."
No one moved.
"Five candles remain in the west wing," he continued softly. "The light grows thinner, but oh… how bright it burns."
The chandeliers dimmed, the air thick with the scent of wax and ash. The black stain where Ayaka had stood spread slowly, creeping toward the center of the floor like spilled ink searching for something else to consume.
Toru stared down at it, jaw tight, his flame reflected in the dark surface. For the first time since they entered the mansion, his candle trembled.
Grimm noticed.
"Ah," he murmured, delighted. "Even your flame wavers now, little actor."
A pause.
"Tell me, Toru… when the curtain finally falls, will you still call yourself human?"
The voice faded into the walls. The ticking stopped.
But the silence that followed felt alive.
And somewhere deep inside the mansion, something began to whisper back.