Chapter 13
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 13
Chapter Title: Hollow Man 4
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Kang Ibi staggered, her legs giving out beneath her, and she collapsed to the floor. At first, she'd thought it was some kind of haunted mirror. That's why she'd deliberately avoided looking into it, even when she entered this room.
She was already fraying at the edges every passing minute. Staring into a mirror like that would have left her mentally shredded—it was obvious.
From that perspective, Ibi's actions had been perfectly reasonable. If it had truly been just a haunted mirror meant only to scare her, that is.
"......"
Sitting there on the floor, Ibi faced her aged reflection in the mirror. Now she could see the mirror's true purpose.
The man had said this space—this wardrobe—was a toy that toyed with time and space.
She had no idea how something so immense could be dismissed as a mere toy. But the key point was that inside here, time and space ran wild.
The Ibi standing in this 'triangular room' right now could be described as countless if you broke down linear time into fragments. And the wardrobe had tangled those linear timelines into a knotted ball of yarn.
This mirror reflected one of those Ibies standing in this spot amid the jumble of times. On the other side of that mirror, an elderly Ibi was gazing at her current self through the glass.
To put it simply, that reflection was Ibi's future. Which meant she wouldn't escape this place until she withered away to that state...
"No way."
Ibi stood and cautiously touched the mirror's surface with her fingertip. Her older self stared back, tears streaming down her face.
"I can't be trapped here for decades. Not without water or food. I wouldn't last a week."
Then a clear realization flashed through her mind. She recalled the man's words again. Every time she moved from room to room, time actually passed according to the dates marked on the calendar.
What if that didn't just mean a time lag between inside and outside, but that she herself was aging?
Ibi hurriedly raised her hands to her face, feeling her skin. Of course, a woman in her early twenties wouldn't show clear signs of aging after just a few months.
But Ibi had sensitive skin that showed wear easily. She'd always taken care of it meticulously—her future aspirations demanded it. So even if not perfectly, she could detect subtle changes.
It has to be my imagination. Just my imagination.
Of course, without superpowers, no one could tell they'd aged months just by touching their face.
Still, focusing on the sensation at her fingertips, she was almost certain a not-insignificant amount of time had passed. Yes. She'd aged several months.
A hollow laugh escaped her lips. And in the mirror, her aged self laughed back with the exact same expression. For the first time, the mirror was truly acting like a mirror.
It didn't last long. Not wanting to see her withered, shabby self any longer, Ibi raised her hand and smashed the mirror.
Crack!
The mirror shattered with a sharp crack.
Ibi wrapped her bleeding fist with her other hand. Blood trickled from the hand that broke it, staining the center of the shattered mirror as well.
After hunching over and panting for a moment, Ibi slowly lifted her head again. And she faced an even stranger sight.
Cracks radiated from the bloodstain, spiderwebbing across the large mirror and dividing it into pieces. Now each shard reflected a different point in time.
An elderly Ibi, one who looked almost no different from now, a middle-aged version, and even one so ancient she seemed on the verge of death.
Some shards were empty.
Ibi froze in place like a stone. She'd seen too much in one night; her emotions were tapped out. She didn't know anymore. Didn't care what happened. Nothing made sense.
Maybe that's why rationality surged up to fill the void left by her dried-up feelings. At the same time, the man's final words resurfaced.
'The past is something that can be changed.'
Ibi's face went pale as she took a step toward the mirror.
She looked at the largest shattered piece, which showed an Ibi who seemed the youngest compared to the others. Younger even than the current Ibi staring into it now. Fresher, more put-together.
"You're... younger than me."
If measured from when she first stepped into this space... then her current self wasn't the most ancient Ibi here.
And she remembered the reflection she'd seen the first time she arrived in the triangular room and looked into this mirror. She'd thought she looked a few years older then.
"It's me."
Of course, even the current Ibi hadn't aged years. She'd only weathered a few months, looking more haggard on top of it. It wasn't unreasonable.
"What I saw back then was me now."
What had she done at that time?
To calm her past self in the mirror, Ibi spoke quickly.
"Don't freak out, don't freak out. It's me. I'm you, I swear."
But the past Ibi in the mirror clapped her hands over her mouth in shock. Both their eyes widened in horror at the same moment. The past Ibi from surprise, the other from remembering what came next.
The future Ibi strode forward and struck the shattered piece like swatting a bug. She kept talking endlessly. Don't go. You have to listen to me.
I'm too late, but you're not. You can get out of here. Only you can. The foolish other mes sealed off every exit. But not you. Not yet!
"......"
'The past is something that can be changed.'
The past Ibi couldn't properly read the future Ibi's lip movements. Fear overwhelmed any urge to understand. She turned and fled from the mirror.
That was when it happened. An inexplicable instinct swept through the past Ibi's body. I can't turn back now. For some reason, I once turned away in a situation like this and regretted it to the point of death.
No, had she really experienced that? Or was it the future, not the past? Future memories? Did that even make sense?
Still, she couldn't ignore the gut feeling. The past Ibi turned back. Her throat bobbed. And she walked to the mirror again.
Now show me what you know.
In the mirror, the future Ibi looked stunned by the reaction, her eyes blank with disbelief.
She snapped out of it soon enough and desperately tried to speak to her past self. But mirrors don't carry sound. No matter how much she explained, the past couldn't hear.
The future Ibi dropped her gaze to the floor. Shards of mirror lay scattered there. She snatched the sharpest one without hesitation.
She plunged it into her palm. Pain stabbed like thorns, blood splattering her face. But Ibi clenched her teeth and drew a picture on her palm with the blood.
A square. Straight lines connecting corners. A triangle in the center.
The diagram was complete. The future Ibi turned back to the mirror and pressed her palm flat against it. So her past self could understand the layout of this space. Praying she'd grasp the meaning.
"......"
The past Ibi stared at the blood-drawn diagram for a long time. Could she unravel the full truth from that alone, without other hints? Was she really that sharp?
How much time passed? Future and past eyes met.
In a brief instant, the past Ibi's eyes sparkled. She nodded once, then turned, opened the door opposite, and left.
The future Ibi—the remaining Ibi, the one who couldn't escape—watched until the end. Then she slumped against the mirror wall and slid down.
Her whole body felt limp, as if she'd run until exhaustion. Like a salmon that had spawned, waiting to die.
She'd never know if her past self understood the message. Even if she did and escaped successfully. If so, what would happen to the Ibi here now?
Would the changed past erase this as if it never happened? Would she cease to exist?
Or... had her past and present selves already diverged? Would she wander this place forever, no matter what?
She'd never know. Either way.
Ibi stared blankly at the door right in front of her. Waiting for someone.
She recalled the dream from hours ago—or was it months? No need to quibble now. What mattered was that it had been a nightmare.
Ibi's nightmares always came true in reality. In the dream from hours ago, she'd been trapped somewhere forever. And now it had happened.
So next, the following event would unfold.
Thud. Thud.
Footsteps echoed from the hallway outside the door. Not the Guest. The Guest had already left this place.
Creeeak...
Soon, the figure who had crossed the entire hallway opened the door. Long robes trailing to the floor swept the ground. Ibi looked up and met his eyes.
Sunken, burning twin pupils.
"Hollow Man."
He approached quietly.
"Are you here to kill me?"
No answer.
"I'm not running anymore. I can't, anyway. So answer me now."
As an echo circling her cradle.
"You've haunted me my whole life, always watching. I felt it but tried to ignore it. Why?"
As a shadow lurking under the bed.
"I thought you were just my nightmare. But... now I don't know. I don't understand anything. Tell me. Who are you? Please."
Spreading through crowds under the sun, riding tongues.
"Please."
Tears streamed from Ibi's eyes.
At the same time, the Hollow Man's parched, bark-like lips moved. His voice, equally desiccated, whispered something.
In that instant, Ibi felt struck by lightning. Enlightenment flooded her. She knew this man. From long ago—very long ago. Maybe from childhood, too early to remember.
"Do you remember?"
The Hollow Man's voice burrowed straight into her mind. Ibi looked up.
"Yes."
Tears still flowed from Ibi's eyes, but a joyous smile now curved her lips.
"Yes. I remember."
Still seated, Ibi spread her arms wide to embrace the Hollow Man. His cold lips twisted into an expression. A chilling smile.
That was the end. In an instant, their forms blurred like embers scattering in the wind, then vanished. Nothing remained. Not Ibi, not the Hollow Man, not the space they occupied.
Only the deeply ominous sound of piano keys lingered.