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Vanishing Reflection
墨書 Inktalez
Jiang Ming opened his eyes to find himself staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. The white walls were illuminated by cold, sterile lighting, and the air was thick with the scent of disinfectant.
Where am I? A hospital? Jiang Ming's mind was blank, unable to recall how he ended up in this place.
He attempted to sit up but discovered that his wrists were bound by something—not handcuffs, but a soft bandage, seemingly meant to prevent him from harming himself.
"What is this place?" Jiang Ming murmured, his voice echoing in the empty room.
No one answered.
He glanced around; the room was small, containing little more than a bed and a table. On the table lay a worn notebook and a pen, alongside a mirror.
A mirror?
Instinctively, Jiang Ming looked into it and froze. The reflection staring back was not his own.
It was a stranger—a man in his thirties, gaunt and hollow-eyed, dressed in a white hospital gown just like Jiang Ming's.
Jiang Ming raised his hand; the man in the mirror mirrored him.
He shook his head; the reflection did the same.
"This can't be happening..." Jiang Ming whispered, his voice trembling.
The man in the mirror opened his mouth but no sound emerged.
Jiang Ming abruptly shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again.
The man remained there, silently watching Jiang Ming as if waiting for something.
Jiang Ming struggled to remember who he was and why he was here, but his mind remained a blank slate. The only thing he could recall was his name—Jiang Ming.
With great effort, he loosened the bandage around his wrists, climbed off the bed, and approached the mirror, reaching out to touch its surface.
The cold sensation sent a shiver down his spine.
The man in the mirror also extended his hand, their fingertips almost touching as if separated by an invisible barrier.
"Who are you?" Jiang Ming asked.
The man did not respond; he simply continued to gaze at Jiang Ming with those vacant eyes.
Suddenly, there was a soft sound from the door of the room.
Jiang Ming suddenly turned around, and the door slowly creaked open, revealing a pitch-black corridor. At the end of the hallway, a shadowy figure stood motionless.
Jiang Ming's heart raced, and cold sweat began to bead on his palms.
"Is anyone there?" he called out, his voice echoing down the corridor.
No one answered.
He glanced back at the mirror; the man in it still stood there, a faint, eerie smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
Jiang Ming stood at the doorway, his heart pounding like a drum. The figure at the end of the corridor remained still, as if waiting for something.
Taking a deep breath, Jiang Ming took his first step forward.
The sound of his footsteps reverberated in the empty hallway, each echo striking at his nerves.
On either side of him were countless closed doors, devoid of any markings, only cold metal handles gleaming in the dim light.
Jiang Ming tried to push one of the doors, but it wouldn’t budge.
"Is anyone there?" he shouted again, his voice bouncing off the walls, yet met with silence.
The figure at the end of the corridor seemed to mock Jiang Ming's helplessness as it remained unmoving.
He quickened his pace toward the shadowy figure.
As he drew closer, its outline became clearer—it was a man in a white coat, facing away from him, head bowed as if examining something.
"Who are you?" Jiang Ming asked, his voice trembling slightly.
The man did not respond or move.
Jiang Ming reached out to tap him on the shoulder, but just as he was about to make contact, the figure vanished like smoke dissipating into thin air.
Jiang Ming stood frozen in place, cold sweat trickling down his palms.
"Is this... a hallucination?" he muttered to himself.
Suddenly, the lights in the corridor began to flicker and emitted a harsh buzzing sound.
Instinctively, Jiang Ming stepped back a few paces but found that the door behind him had closed without him noticing.
He pushed against it with all his might, but it remained firmly shut.
"Damn it!" Jiang Ming cursed under his breath as he turned and ran down the corridor.
The lights flickered, casting his shadow on the wall, stretching and shrinking as if something were chasing him.
Finally, Jiang Ming reached the end of the corridor where a half-open door awaited him.
Without hesitation, he dashed inside, slamming the door shut behind him and leaning against it, gasping for breath.
The room was dimly lit, with only a beam of light filtering through the gap in the curtains.
Jiang Ming fumbled around until he found the switch on the wall; when he pressed it, the lights flickered on.
It was a study.
Bookshelves were filled with books, and the desk was cluttered with papers and folders.
What caught his attention most was an old notebook lying in the center of the desk—exactly like the one in his own room.
Jiang Ming approached it, picked it up, and opened to the first page.
There was a scrawled note:
"Experiment Record: Subject No. 47, memory erasure completed, personality implantation beginning."
His hands began to tremble as he continued reading.
"Subject exhibits strong resistance; recommend increasing dosage of sedatives."
"Subject shows signs of memory confusion; original memories suspected to be not fully erased."
"Subject No. 47 has lost control; recommend termination of experiment."
The date on the last page was three months ago.
Jiang Ming closed the notebook, his mind swirling in chaos.
"Subject... memory erasure... personality implantation..."
These words pierced his brain like needles, as if trying to awaken buried memories.
Suddenly, he heard footsteps outside the door, growing closer.
Holding his breath, Jiang Ming stared intently at the door.
The footsteps stopped at the entrance, and he could hear the doorknob slowly turning.
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