After the sedative injection, My’s body began to relax. Her breathing slowly steadied. She drifted off into a haze of sleep, though the traces of fear still lingered on her face.

  Mr. Quy sighed and clasped his hands in prayer:

  "Please, Heaven and Earth... protect my daughter and help her recover quickly..."

  Mrs. Lan sat close beside My’s bed, tightly gripping her daughter’s hand. Her eyes were red and glistening, her voice trembling:

  "If anything happens to my daughter... I won’t survive it... Doctor, please...please save her..."

  The doctor wiped the sweat from his brow and exhaled, exhausted from the intense emergency:

  "Rest assured. I’ll do everything in my power... I’ll schedule a meeting with the department heads to consult and determine the best treatment approach."

  C?u D?ng, looking pale and drained, glanced at his watch:

  "If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Quy, Mrs. Lan... I need to head home. It’s already past 7 PM..."

  Mr. Quy looked at his own watch in surprise:

  "Nearly 8 already? Time flies... Everyone, please go home and rest. Thank you all so much for today."

  Mrs. Lan gently turned to Tu?n and his friends:

  "Tu?n, Ti?n, Deep... you all should go get some rest. Come back in the morning."

  The doctor nodded in agreement:

  "Yes. The patient needs a quiet space to rest. If anything happens, call me immediately—I’ll come right away."

  Tu?n brushed My’s hair and whispered softly:

  "Rest now, okay? I’ll be back to take care of you in the morning. You have to get better—we still have a wedding to plan."

  The room dimmed as the lights softened. The door opened and closed quietly behind them.

  No one noticed that, in the far corner of the room, the large mirror trembled—just once, like a subtle shudder.

  Then it fell still, silently waiting.

  The small alleyway around the boarding house was peaceful in the evening. Soft yellow light spilled from a few 3-watt bulbs mounted along the wall, casting long shadows across the uneven yard. In one corner, Trang and H?ng Nhung were cleaning up their street stall after a long day of selling.

  Trang smiled brightly as she pulled the food cart into its usual corner:

  "Thanks for buying Bún Riêu today and helping me pack up, too. Let me pay you back for ?ng Nhan bowl."

  H?ng Nhung shook her head, her expression warm and familiar:

  "It’s nothing. Let’s just say I treated him. I’m heading home now—I have to work early tomorrow. And about the Wave motorbike, just use it for now. Pay me back when you can."

  Trang hesitated, her voice filled with gratitude:

  "Then… give me a few days. I’ll save up from my sales and pay you half first, okay?"

  H?ng Nhung nodded with a gentle smile, then hopped onto her old scooter and drove off, the sound of the engine fading into the bustling street beyond.

  Trang carefully locked up the food cart and returned to her tiny rented room. Inside, there was only a small bamboo bed, an old wooden shelf with a few books and comic magazines, a modest fabric wardrobe, and a dim light bulb casting a soft glow overhead. She laid down, resting her head on a worn pillow. The sound of crickets outside hummed steadily, lulling her toward sleep…

  A peaceful sleep—though she didn’t know how long it would last.

  She turned slightly, her tired eyes staring up at the mottled ceiling. Her mind replayed ?ng Nhan’s voice from earlier that day. His gaze had been gentle, as always—but something about it felt... different. As if he were hiding something. A secret she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

  She whispered to herself:

  "I have to get up early tomorrow... prep the grass jelly, pearls, syrup... then toast the pork floss, make the rice paper mix. I need to sell more to pay Nhung back for the bike..."

  Though she was exhausted, her eyes still held a quiet hope. She had never blamed life for its hardships—because she believed that if she kept trying, things would eventually get better.

  But what she didn’t know… was that in a room at the far end of the boarding house—one that always stayed shut tight—an ancient being was watching her. Watching her breath. Watching her dreams…

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Night had fallen over C?u D?ng’s luxurious villa. The rows of bonsai trees stood still and silent. Above them, warm yellow lights from the Japanese-style garden shimmered over the surface of the koi pond. The clock had just passed 8 PM when his sleek black Mercedes-Benz pulled up at the gate.

  From inside, Dì T?, the long-time housekeeper, rushed out in a panic, her face pale:

  “Sir! Something’s wrong! Miss Anh ?ào… she came back to visit her parents this afternoon, and suddenly started acting hysterical! She was screaming, clutching her face, saying it was melting like candle wax! But her face looks completely normal!”

  Hearing this, C?u D?ng’s expression turned grim. Without a word, he rushed into the house. His footsteps echoed heavily through the silent hallway of the villa.

  Inside Anh ?ào’s private room—once filled with joy and the lingering fragrance of her wedding yesterday—now trembled with screams of terror:

  “Mom! Dad! Help me! My face… it’s melting! The skin is falling off! Look—my flesh is tearing open! You can see inside!”

  M? Linh sat beside her, holding her daughter tightly, trying to stay calm:

  “Look at me, sweetie. You're okay… your face is still beautiful, there’s nothing wrong…”

  But Anh ?ào’s eyes were glassy with fear. She trembled, gasped for air, and slowly pointed toward the mirror on her vanity table:

  “Don’t you see it?! In the mirror! I’m melting! My flesh… it’s falling apart… oh God!!”

  C?u D?ng entered the room, horrified at the sight of his daughter curled up in a corner, drenched in sweat, clutching her face. He immediately turned to the mirror.

  There was nothing there.

  Only Anh ?ào’s reflection—panicked but otherwise normal.

  “There’s nothing in the mirror, honey! You need to calm down!”

  But Anh ?ào screamed in despair:

  “No! Don’t look at it, Dad! It knows now… it’s looking back at us through the mirror! It’s him! It’s him!!”

  She grabbed her phone and hurled it at the mirror—but it didn’t break. Instead, the surface rippled strangely, like water disturbed by a breeze, reflecting the light in a surreal, unnatural way.

  Only Anh ?ào could see it.

  And for the briefest moment, in her reflection, she saw a dark face… and a pair of amber eyes glowing coldly with a twisted smile. A smile that didn’t belong to any being of this world.

  Then a deep, distant voice echoed through her mind:

  “You are one of them. Don’t forget… you cannot escape my judgment.”

  And then—silence. The mirror stood still once more. The light returned to its warm, golden hue.

  But Anh ?ào shrank back in terror, clutching her head, sobbing uncontrollably, screaming:

  “Don’t let me see any mirrors in this house again! Don’t make me loo

  k at my face anymore—break them all, please!!”

  Anh ?ào’s screams continued to tear through the silence of the villa, shrill and unrelenting. C?u D?ng burst into the room and wrapped his arms tightly around his daughter.

  “Anh ?ào! It’s me—your father! What’s happening to you?!”

  She writhed on the bed, clutching her face. Stunned, he turned to M? Linh, his voice trembling:

  “What’s wrong with our daughter?”

  M? Linh held Anh ?ào close, panic in her voice:

  “She came home around noon and everything was normal. But this afternoon she suddenly started screaming, saying her face was melting like candle wax… dripping down! I looked closely with Dì T?—her face is fine. But she’s terrified… as if it were really happening.”

  C?u D?ng froze for a second, then spoke with a faint, strained breath:

  “My… Tu?n’s fiancée… she’s going through the same thing. I just got back from their place. She was screaming too, saying bugs were crawling out of her face… eating her skin…”

  Both M? Linh and Dì T? stared at him, their faces going pale.

  “You mean… My? The daughter of Mr. Quy and Mrs. Lan? Good heavens… she’s suffering the exact same thing as Anh ?ào?”

  “Oh God… this can’t be a coincidence…” whispered Dì T?, stepping back in fear.

  “How can both Miss My and Miss Anh ?ào experience the exact same thing?”

  Just then, Anh ?ào screamed again, pressing her hands tightly to her face:

  “Mom! Dad! Help me! My face… it’s melting! Something is burning my skin!”

  The room froze in dread. The chandelier above flickered strangely. For a brief moment, the shadows on the wall twisted into something grotesque—like a being had passed through and left behind a warped echo of itself.

  In the corner, the full-length mirror beside the wardrobe trembled softly. No one noticed—except for Anh ?ào, who saw everything. In the mirror, her reflection was melting—like wax dripping down—revealing bright red, bleeding flesh beneath.

  She screamed again, her voice broken:

  “Don’t let me see the mirror anymore! It’s laughing at me… it’s burning my face inside that mirror!”

  But to everyone else, the mirror remained still. No melting face. No wounds. Nothing abnormal.

  Only Anh ?ào could

  see it—Only she was being punished.

  At that moment, a pearl-white Mercedes-Benz slowly came to a stop in front of the villa gate. From inside, Anh Tú quickly stepped out of the car. He hadn’t even reached for the doorbell when he heard a blood-curdling scream echoing down from the second floor—his wife’s voice.

  Without a moment’s hesitation, he sprinted across the courtyard, flung open the main doors, and rushed up the stairs like a gust of wind. Reaching the bedroom, he opened the door—and froze in shock.

  Anh ?ào was curled up in the corner of the bed, her hands clawing at her face, fingernails digging into her skin. Her eyes were vacant, and her mouth screamed without pause:

  “Help me! My face is melting… the flesh… it’s coming off… dripping like candle wax… bright red wax… blood… it won’t stop…”

  Anh Tú rushed forward, dropping to his knees in front of her, his voice trembling:

  “?ào! Look at me—what’s happening to you? Your face… it’s normal! There’s nothing wrong!”

  But Anh ?ào’s gaze was hollow. It was as if she didn’t recognize anyone anymore. Her eyes were locked on the mirror at the foot of the bed. She clutched Anh Tú’s arm and screamed desperately:

  “Honey! It’s watching me! In the mirror! That face… it’s not mine anymore…!”

  Anh Tú embraced her tightly:

  “Calm down, sweetheart. Your face is still beautiful. I swear… there’s nothing strange at all.”

  C?u D?ng slumped into a chair, his voice raspy:

  “I don’t understand what’s happening… My—Tu?n’s fiancée—is suffering the exact same thing. I just came back from her house… she was screaming too, saying insects were crawling out of her face…”

  Anh Tú froze, his hands trembling as he repeated in disbelief:

  “Sister My? But she was at our wedding yesterday… she even took pictures with the family…”

  “Yes… But now, My is in complete shock. The doctor said it’s psychological trauma…”

  C?u D?ng stared into space. His face looked like it had aged a decade in just a few hours—drawn tight with anxiety and dread.

  The room was thick with unease. M? Linh and Dì T? stood in the corner, barely daring to breathe. They said nothing—only stared as Anh ?ào buried her face in the pillow, whispering over and over:

  “There’s someone in the mirror watching me… don’t let it see me… it’s waiting for me to melt away…”

  Outside the glass windows, the wisteria vines in the garden swayed gently in the night wind. The white curtains rustled lightly. The chandelier above bathed the room in a soft golden light—but somehow, the atmosphere was icy cold. In the mirror, Anh ?ào’s reflection remained intact—yet her eyes still saw a terrifying version of her

  self slowly disintegrating within.