Welcome to the Horror Survivor Gallery!
Welcome! To the Horror Survivor Gallery!Click.
With the tiresome mouse click, a message popped up on the monitor: [New comment registered].
"Let's see the reactions today, huh?"
In the dim room, the only light illuminating my face was the cold glow from the three monitors. I sank deep into the chair's backrest, flashing a rotten grin. My gaze was fixed on the nation's largest mystery community, the Horror Creation Gallery. Tonight's sacrificial lamb was already in my grasp.
True to my name, next to my fixed nick [Han Yujin], the comment input box started filling with black text.
... 7. If a man in a black suit tries to board on the 4th floor, never press the [Open] button. He is not a 'guest'.
8. Before reaching the 10th floor, always check behind you in the emergency mirror in the elevator corner. If there's no one behind you, immediately press the nearest floor button and get off. The 'something' that realizes you're alone will follow you out.
...
The relentless clacking of the keyboard. Imagining the author seething at my comment made my lips curl up automatically. A reply came right away.
Every consonant and vowel in 211.36's comments dripped with rage. "Kukuku! Gotcha, gotcha good."
Horrors exist for real? Passing dogs would laugh. Good thing the government's official statement means I don't have to entertain that dumb logic.
Ten years deep in the Horror Creation Gallery. For the past decade, I've made it my life's joy to logically shred every single 'rule set' in the gallery.
To me, horror rule sets weren't objects of fear—they were just fodder for nitpicking.
"Now, next victim... Huh? Why'd they delete the comments?"
Several of Anon (211.36)'s comments were gone. Definitely the part about the Horror Survivor Gallery or whatever.
"Deleting comments and running? Pathetic, pathetic."
I smirked and scrolled down. Any new prey?
The moment I clicked a new rule set—
Bzzz— The monitor let out a grotesque noise and warped. Every light in the room flickered in unison.
"What the fu—"
Curse half-formed, my vision went black. My body floated weightlessly. A musty mold stench and bone-chilling cold enveloped me.
When I opened my eyes, I wasn't in my room anymore. Surrounded by ornate, worn mirrors stretching endlessly. At my feet lay a single sheet of aged parchment.
"...Hah."
A hollow laugh escaped. The ultimate cliché I'd seen hundreds of times in the gallery.
My hand reached for the parchment—feeling oddly familiar for some reason.
[Cursed Mirror Room (A-304) Survival Rules]
1. All mirrors in this room reflect your past, present, or future self.
2. Even if the reflection differs from your current self, never be surprised or doubt it. That is also you.
3. Some mirrors show your 'most ideal form.' Do not be swayed by it.
4. If a being in the mirror speaks to you, never respond.
5. If you hear a mirror shatter, hide immediately.
6. The only way out is finding the moment when all mirrors reflect the 'perfectly identical' you.
"What a joke."
I snorted. Normally it'd be scary, sure. But the frustration from these rules outweighed any fear.
The rules contradicted and clashed everywhere. Especially rule 6—the core.
'All mirrors must show the same form to escape? But rule 1 says they show past, present, future. How can teen me, current me, and old future me look identical at once?'
Impossible by design. A malicious trap. Normies would spiral into confusion and self-destruct.
But not me. I'm not some idiot who gawks at rules—I'm the troll who wrecks them.
This isn't a game to follow rules. It's a board made to find flaws and smash them.
I scanned the mirrors. Messy-haired current me, uniform-clad past me, and... a long silver-haired beautiful girl.
The 'ideal opposite sex' I'd fantasized about my whole life—but somehow resembling me. My 'other self' stood in the third mirror.
Puzzle pieces clicked. This horror's key was rule 6: the impossible 'make all mirrors identical' mission.
Answer lies in 'me.' Can't change mirrors? Change the original they reflect—me.
How? By breaking a rule.
My eyes locked on rule 2. 'Don't doubt a different reflection of yourself.'
Not a command—an inducement. Breaking it triggers penalty. But what penalty?
Usually death, but this intricate setup wouldn't just instant-kill. So... the penalty is the hidden system.
If doubting 'that's not me' syncs you permanently with that doubted existence...?
Tilt. The cute girl in the mirror tilted her head.
Everything fit. Becoming that girl changes my 'present.' My 'past' becomes hers, 'future' hers. My existence redefined.
All mirrors reset to the new me. All show the 'girl.' Completing rule 6: 'the moment all mirrors perfectly match.'
Brilliant. Penalty fulfillment = clear condition. Paradoxical genius.
I'm a madman for figuring it, but the planner who left this loophole is more pathetic.
"Alright. Let's do it."
I pointed at the third mirror, the beautiful girl, spitting contempt.
"Hey. You're not me, right?"
The instant the words left, the girl's lips curled sinisterly.
Do not doubt another form of yourself in the mirror.
All mirrors in the room bled red light. A piercing ring tore at my ears.
Permanent synchronization with the existence you most 'doubted'.
"As expected."
My body wrapped in transparent light. I laughed triumphantly.
Ahahaha. Ahahaha...
"Wait. Hold up."
Come to think. This isn't just some gallery post.
I'm here. The mirror's here.
In other words—reality.
Then. Then...
"I change?"
How? Can human gender swap that easy? And the process? Does it hurt?
"Wait."
Wait, wait, wait. Where the hell did I drop into? What's this? Why does reality have a space like this?
The belated realization vanished with my scream.
"Gaaaaaaaah!"
My scream. Bones twisting, flesh reshaping—unbearable agony.
How much time passed? Regaining senses, I lay collapsed on the floor. My body felt alien.
Struggling up, I looked in the mirror—and gasped.
No pro gallery troll remained. A frail, ethereal silver-haired beauty around 160cm stood there. The exact form I'd denied for the clear.
At the same time.
New survivor detected. Activating Gallery.
A translucent window unfolded before my eyes with a short voice in my head.
'A-304: Cursed Mirror Room' has been cleared.
Gallery-wide notice: #1 ranking for A-304 updated.
[Fixed Nick: Pending]
Clear Time: 00:07:14 / Heteromorphic Crystal Acquired: A (Perfect)
Mind blank. Alarms I couldn't parse flooded my vision.
Unfamiliar surroundings. Sudden body change. Info overload.
Brain swamped—like force-feeding at a buffet past full. "Urk...!"
Just as I dry-heaved and collapsed—
All vanished, leaving one message.
Welcome to the Horror Survivor Gallery!