Chapter Text
His reflection is cast on every visible surface.
The mirrors are so clear, as if taking a single step forward would allow you to phase through, easily.
Kim Soleum can’t estimate how long he’s been wandering this mirror maze. It spans out in front of him infinitely, with only the narrowest path to walk through. An eerie yellow light is cast on the halls with no visible source to direct Kim Soleum. The further he goes, the darker it feels from afar, like a fluorescent spotlight is shining on him, and him alone.
He’s aware of every step he takes, every inhale, every shuffle of fabric as he cautiously twists and turns, only relying on the vaguest sense of direction to guide him forward instead of backwards.
He could have walked for miles and he simply wouldn’t know. Even his body doesn’t slow from exhaustion; everything is as if in stasis, pocketed in this place forever with no way out.
But Kim Soleum isn’t too worried.
The trembling of his hands, the thudding of his pulse—none of that is fabricated. But he knows no harm will befall him in this strange mirror maze.
As long as he stays focused and finds the elevator, he’ll be safe.
At first, Kim Soleum was wandering for a long time with little progress. All he remembered was agonising pain blooming in his abdomen, an imprint of failure, and the lingering feeling of fear sinking down into his bones, before opening his eyes to this mirror maze. At the time, his senses were delayed, sweat dripped down his face and his throat was croaky and dry. He had come face to face with a mirror, stupefied to see that he was still alive, despite feeling the way his body had been mangled and twisted apart just a second ago.
He had taken one step forward, in disbelief, before taking another, and then began exploring his surroundings with weariness. Outside of Braun’s disappearance, only a silent plush doll in his pocket, nothing else felt out of the ordinary. He had, however, come to find that his tattoo inventory was not responding, merely ink on his wrist that would not fade. He was still wearing the same black suited uniform, a simple signifier that he had just been at work. Calmly, he scanned his surroundings, throat constricting slightly as he tried to dispel the sensation of being choked up with blood. While he did not have the wiki on hand at this moment, his mind had already whirred with a few possibilities for a potential darkness he had dropped into.
Immediately, he had smashed his hand into one of the mirrors, watching with detached expectation as his knuckles dripped with blood, the shallow cut a satisfactory trade off for the small mirror shard that clattered to the ground. As he picked it up, his distorted reflection looked more like a threat.
And now here he is, body utterly intact with no signs of injury, sound of mind as well, trying his hardest to navigate his way to safety.
He keeps his eyes peeled straight, head up, avoiding the casted reflections of his face from multiple angles, resembling shadows of people from afar.
Still, try as he might to remain calm, the panic has begun slowly to set in. Even though he’s safe, it doesn’t feel like it. He’s on edge, twitchy, unsure of his sense of direction. The doubt that rises is gradual, but one that manages to disarm him all the same. He’s unprepared for the human fear to seep through the cracks once more, even while seemingly in control the most at this moment.
The silence that accompanies him is the worst.
The reflections in each mirror from all sides stare him down with piercing, red eyes, casting their judgement onto him, waiting to unload onto him his punishment.
Heart hammering in his chest, he tries looking away, twisting his body, but even with his averted gaze, he can still make out the reflection of his cowering frame, gradually losing his carefully crafted composure.
Nothing’s happening.
Nothing at all.
But it’s unbearable. It’s mind numbingly unbearable.
There’s a silent expectation in this maze. The silence is not peaceful; instead, it's watchful. There is no privacy and no moment to keep to yourself alone. Your existence is broadcasted amongst the endless stretch of mirrors. He’s being watched. It’s almost like all of these reflections will jump out of its canvas and attack him with the weight of their judgement.
He has to find the elevator now.
Distracted, he can do nothing as he crashes straight into a mirror right in front of him that he mistook for an open space, letting out a groan. His forehead throbs with pain, a red bruise already beginning to form.
Just then, the sound of rushing footsteps reaches his ears, disrupting the silence, and from behind him, a figure emerges with a tentative, but relieved, “Roe Deer-ssi?”
As Go Yeongeun rounds the corner, and walks towards him, Kim Soleum notices immediately that her face mask is nowhere to be seen, and so is his.
It’s strange to only realise the glaring issues of this detail right now, possibly hours into this darkness, rather than immediately. The anonymity when inside darknesses is one of the most essential ways to avoid contamination. No wonder he’s been feeling so rough and on edge the entire time, with his face reflected on every surface.
She appears jittery, strands of her bouncy hair framing her face, work uniform slightly crumpled, but other than that she looks the same as always, a determined glint in her eyes and steel composure that is still envious to Kim Soleum.
“Goral-ssi, it’s good to see you,” he says, politely, and observes the way her facial features soften and relax, much less tense. “How did you find me?”
Kim Soleum hadn’t thought much about the possibility that he would come across another person in the middle of the maze. His focus has always been on securing a way out, certain he’d find others waiting in the elevator once he gets there.
If his rising suspicion is correct then this floor is one out of nine, and by far the easiest to survive and overcome. The only entries from the wiki he remembers reading have been about possible contamination due to psychological stress from being lost for so long in this mirror maze. There have been no previous reports of deaths on this level, but countless disappearances.
It’s the horror of fading into non-existence, of being submerged and overtaken by the pressure of your own reflection—in comparison to previous darknesses, this is nothing.
“It was hard at first,” she says, before smiling so faintly, eyes alight with determination. “But I soon noticed these strange white marks on the frames of some mirrors I came across. It felt like some sort of clue, and soon it managed to lead me to you. I’m glad.”
Kim Soleum’s eyes widen in surprise. He’s been keeping track of his position in the maze, using a mirror shard he had managed to crack apart to scrape a line against the wooden frames to mark his position, to make sure he’s not just walking in circles. It’s been working well so far, but it’s also impossible to tell how long he’s been doing this for.
When she looks up at him once more, it’s more hopeful, mired with anxiety she tries her hardest to hide. “Do you perhaps know how to get out of here? This place—it’s a darkness, isn’t it? But I don’t know how I got here. Everything’s a blur, really.”
“It is a darkness,” he confirms. “It’s too strange not to be. As for how to get out of here, I don’t know, but I remember seeing a reflection of an elevator. Even if it’s not our way out, it should lead us to something close.”
The lie flows out of him, easily. He hasn’t seen the aforementioned elevator himself, but it’s the only way he knows to get Go Yeongeun’s cooperation without revealing just how much he knows. Still, his chest pangs with faint guilt.
Go Yeongeun frowns thoughtfully. “I’ve been searching for a way out for hours and haven’t come across an elevator. Let’s stick close for now, and start a search.”
With Go Yeongeun’s company, a silence still emerges between them, but one that makes him feel much less paranoid. Instead, they calmly navigate this dark maze, carving white lines into the wooden frames, doubling back on their journey, watching each other’s back. Like this, they make considerable progress; even if they cannot tell where they are or, or if they’re anywhere near the elevator, there’s an unspoken acknowledgement that they are heading in the right direction. A faint tug and pull at their malleable senses.
And soon.
“Wait… right there! I think I can see it! The elevator!” Go Yeongeun’s relief is palpable and Kim Soleum is quick to swivel around, wanting a reprieve from the endless, repetitive hallway.
But when he turns around he sees nothing new, only the shiny reflection of his disappointed face.
“Goral-ssi, are you sure you saw the elevator? Where?”
She hesitates, shaky fingers pointing at her own reflection, confusion marring her face. “It was right here. I saw it. I really… I really did.”
“I believe you,” he says easily. “That means we’re close. It’s probably the darkness trying to mess with us. Stay sharp.”
Go Yeongeun nods, the words managing to bring her back to a state of calm rationality. She takes the lead this time, using a smaller piece of his glass shard to mark along the frames. He’s close behind, eyes peeled on the mirrors, but carefully avoiding meeting his own gaze. This time, he spots a dark view at the corner of his vision, golden, shiny doors sealed shut.
He’s quick to turn around fully, and dashes down a bunch of mirrors at once, uncaring of their careful planning of their position. It’s right there.
“Roe Deer-ssi!” Go Yeongeun calls behind him, voice echoing loudly.
He continues running.
He’s close.
He has to be.
After all this, there’s going to be an end in sight.
Because Kim Soleum knows what happens to those stuck in this darkness.
Prolonged exposure on this floor will gradually muddle your sense of direction and general sanity, dulling you into walking numbingly across this maze forever, sucked into the overbearing void of non existence this limbo promises you.
The fear of nothing. Like a liminal space, except one that focuses on you as the subject, the setting and the one eventually forgotten and made into nothing. Many wikis on the Dark Exploration Records explored the gradual build of horror that comes with being trapped in dimly lit, cramped spaces with no way out, and although Kim Soleum knows in the grand scheme of things, such a darkness isn’t that bad, he will always take it seriously.
Sure, there are no physical threats but such fast, permanent contamination is already a huge threat on its own.
After all, it’s only the first floor of nine to overcome.
He turns the corner with fast efficiency, expecting to see the elevator, or even some sort of hint, a way forward, a reprieve from the same paths laid before him.
Nothing.
Well, not quite nothing.
Baek Saheon jolts and staggers, his back hitting the mirror as his visible eye widens with bewilderment. “Why are you running so fast? Where did you even come from?”
Kim Soleum can’t hide his disappointment. “It’s just you.”
Just like the rest of them, he’s dressed in his work clothes, but lacking the usual goat mask. Although appearing a bit rugged, there are no visible injuries sustained on him. He cranes his head behind Kim Soleum, no doubt deathly worried about coming across a monster charging at them at any second. “Hey! Why were you running like you were being chased?”
Go Yeongeun catches up quickly, relieved to have found a new face, but still wary of Baek Saheon. “How did you get here?” she asks him. “Do you remember?”
Baek Saheon, still backed up against the mirrors and increasingly wary, seems hesitant to cooperate, but once Go Yeongeun continues to watch him expectantly, he finally relents. “I was in a darkness. It didn’t go so well—and then I ended up here. That’s all you need to know….”
A stilted silence emerges around them, as unspoken memories, barely manageable to grasp, traverse between them like an invisible chain binding them to this place.
Kim Soleum can feel himself beginning to frown. Nobody wants to be honest here, and he doesn’t blame them. This situation is just too strange all things considered: a darkness all alone, with nobody interacting with you, not a single encounter with a ghost or dangerous entity, just miles and miles of clear mirrors. And the only other people being your coworkers—it’s beyond strange. Kim Soleum is sure Baek Saheon is wondering whether the people in front of him are even real.
“How long have you been here?” he decides to ask Baek Saheon.
“I’m not good at tracking time,” is the wary response, “but I'd guess a day and a half has passed.”
Go Yeongeun gasps. “It’s only been three hours for me.” She turns to Baek Saheon. “Being here for so long… you must have seen something. Have you come across an elevator?”
“Nothing except these mirrors,” he mumbles. “Why do I feel like my reflections are watching me?”
Go Yeongeun’s eyes narrow sternly. “Have you been staring at your reflection this entire time?”
Baek Saheon’s demeanour is already shifty, and he lowers his head, gaze following a speck of dust on the ground. “Not always, but it’s hard to avoid it when it’s all I can see wherever I go.”
“That’s a fast track to getting fully contaminated! You’ve already been in this darkness unprepared and defenceless for so long.” Go Yeongeun relays this information with a hint of fear, not for Baek Saheon, but for the unforeseen consequences of this darkness that will soon bear down upon them. It always has and always will—it’s only a matter of time.
Bark Saheon’s eye flashes with irritation, ready to argue back and defend himself, but with one wary glance at Kim Soleum, he falls silent, a bit broody but cooperative.
“He really wants to get contaminated, doesn’t he?” Kim Soleum says, still wanting to get a word in. “Still, this isn’t bad. We can make it out safely.”
“We can?”
He points at Baek Saheon. “Your eye. It detects danger.”
Bark Saheon’s expression is unimpressed while still trying to look somewhat polite, a forced smile twitching at the edges with irritation. “Of course, I’ve tried that. The amount of danger covered everywhere is too overwhelming for me to navigate.”
Kim Soleum hums in understanding, nodding his head, consolingly. “It can’t be helped then.” Baek Saheon’s shoulders relax. “Should I just take your eye for myself to use then?”
Baek Saheon’s trembling hand has already lifted his eyepatch. The black eyeball and its lilac iris almost seems to glow in the faintly dark corridor.
Go Yeongeun looks at the eye curiously, her first time seeing it in action. “Try to focus on the areas with the least amount of danger. If the elevator is our way out, then it should be the safest place.”
Baek Saheon nods wordlessly and begins to walk ahead of them. While he doesn’t appear that confident in himself, he isn’t utterly hopeless either. His route is one that twists unconventionally, often passing by the mirror frames with uniquely carved marks that Kim Soleum previously used to mark his place.
“I can see it again!” Go Yeongeun suddenly exclaims. “The elevator!!”
As she points to her left at a far sighted mirror, Baek Saheon blanches, taking a few steps back. “That area … That area you’re pointing at is the most dangerous I’ve seen so far.”
All that Kim Soleum can see in that direction is a mirror, and once more, his eyes subconsciously drift up, and he’s faced with his reflection. It doesn’t move unnaturally like it would in a horror movie; it doesn’t even come to life with a mind of its own, ready to terrorise him. It is simply there. Always. Constantly.
He blinks his eyes rapidly, trying to dispel the image from his mind, but nausea has returned again. “Keep walking,” he directs Baek Saheon.
For all of Baek Saheon’s uncertainty, they only walk into a dead end a few times, much less than when navigating this mirror maze alone. All of them intercept and call out warnings whenever possible, when it seems like they’ve been walking in circles or that there hasn’t been enough progress.
“It’s a hallway,” Baek Saheon explains. “I can make out the shape, and it’s a circular hallway. Once we make it to the other side, the elevator should be close by.”
The unspoken warning is there. One misstep and they’ll loop back right to the beginning, losing all their progress. Kim Soleum now knows to the full extent how dangerous this seemingly harmless floor is. Just the despair from making such a critical mistake would be enough to let your mind become vulnerable for full scale contamination.
Kim Soleum knows this, but the confirmation is reassuring to hear either way. Keep your head down and don’t look at any mirrors for too long, but also track your position. Kim Soleum still makes sure to hold the glass shard in his hand, but when he lifts it up to cut a mark onto the mirror stand, he catches a faint glimpse of his distorted face, cracked and menacing once more. His trembling fingers move to complete his task, but sweat makes his movements slippery, and the shard digs into his palm instead, tearing into skin and smearing it with blood once more.
He doesn’t grunt or show any outward sign of pain, only continuing his way forward, so none of the two notice.
Baek Saheon’s directions and steps become less confident the closer they get to their target. He seems overwhelmed by the input his eye is feeding him, twitching like he wants to hide it under his eyepatch permanently.
After what seems like hours, but certainly shorter than the time Kim Soleum spent wandering aimlessly on his own, Baek Saheon comes to a stop.
But what they find is not the elevator.
Lee Seonghae stands to her full height, smiling up at them as her eyes light up with recognition. “I thought I heard something. I’m surprised to see you guys here, too!”
Out of the four of them, she’s certainly the most comfortable in her environment. There’s no haggard weariness clinging to her like a ghost. Her expression is bright and unassuming, just like this is another darkness that is no big deal to an elite member of Daydream inc. and in some ways, it shouldn't be. But she doesn't know the stakes. She doesn’t know what’s waiting for all of them once they enter that elevator and traverse lower and lower.
None of them know—
Baek Saheon blanches, expression twisting with dread once he realises his eye has been leading him to Lee Seonghae as well, but she seems to not notice.
Go Yeongeun’s wariness has been tempered more by the addition of a competent coworker. “Have you perhaps come across an elevator?”
She perks up in recognition. “Oh, that elevator! I’ve seen it a few times, but this mirror maze has been playing some kind of illusion on me. I think it’s pretty close by at this point, though.”
Kim Soleum clears his throat. “By any chance, how long have you been stuck here?”
“For about twenty minutes now? Why?”
All three of them shudder and fall silent. Seriously, the lives of elites are on another level. It’s really best if he doesn’t question it all.
Lee Seonghae joins them without much fanfare. She smiles at Baek Saheon, casually inspecting his purple, glowing eye.
The moment the elevator comes into view, no longer a distant reflection, the yellow lights behind them, illuminating the mirrors, all go out at the same time in a deafening snap. Suddenly, the sprawling, outreaching hallway seems so much narrower, reminding them that they’ve only been looping for so long.
The elevator in front of them shines golden and pristine, embossed with a spiral decorative pattern, resembling a gate. It appears vastly different from the silver, unassuming elevators at Daydream inc. Its doors are so shiny it almost seems to glow in the darkness, but when Kim Soleum squints his eyes, he can’t capture any sort of reflection from the doors, only a dark, unrecognisable blur. The elevator almost seems to be suspended in time, unaffected by the dark, hazy environment around it.
When Kim Soleum stares at the elevator, something in his chest faintly begins to tug. He doesn’t know why, but his fingers do not instantly move to press the button. It hovers, hesitates, and trembles once more in the air.
He’s unprepared for what awaits them. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be prepared.
The lull to his actions do not go unnoticed. Lee Seonghae swerves in front of him to press the small, golden button in a moment of impatience. “This’ll get us out of here, right?”
In an instant, as if responding before Lee Seonghae moved, the elevator doors open with a loud clang that echoes in the hallway. Lee Seonghae trots her way inside before Kim Soleum can correct her on her assumption.
It’s not their way out at first.
Right now, this elevator is a mode of transportation. Nothing more, nothing less. And he should remember that.
Baek Saheon is the last to enter. He peers inside inside, and when he’s only confronted with maple walls of a cramped elevator, its red tint accentuated by the golden handlebars lining the side, he finally enters—not without muttering balefully about how elevators are always bad news and that it better not crash.
The moment they’re all inside, they wait for the elevator doors to close, and when it doesn’t they all fumble around for a button at the same time.
Go Yeongeun’s hands tug at a gold lever next to her, heaving with all her strength to get it moving. “It’s manually operated,” she explains between each tug. “Elevators like these are pretty old fashioned—I’ve only come across them once before. If I push it left, we should go up one floor.”
But the lever is jammed. It doesn’t matter how many times Go Yeongeun tugs it left, it refuses to budge.
Agitated, Baek Saheon tries his hand at tugging the lever left, but then without thinking, tugs it to the right, anything to get it moving.
Only then does a gradually increasing creaking noise descend upon them, as the doors finally close at once. A secondary gate also closes behind them, further entrapping them in here. The lights in the elevator flash open in a warm light, awaiting their arrival.
“Where is the elevator taking us?” Baek Saheon asks. “We aren't getting out of here that easily. It’s never that easy.”
“It’s taking us down,” Go Yeongeun mumbles. “This elevator—it only goes lower.”
Kim Soleum swallows. This is an elevator that only takes you deeper, uncaring of your ensuing suffering as it descends into its own twisted path.
The elevator inside is plain of any clues. The floor is lined with a black velvet carpet with a golden ring in the middle. Above the handlebars are mirrors, framed by the same decorative gold as the doors. All of them carefully avoid their reflection, instead keeping their eyes peeled cautiously to the door in front of them. There are no buttons on the walls for them to press that’ll take them out of this darkness, because the elevator is not just a mode of transportation, but also their jailor, ushering them wherever it pleases. They are powerless to choose their destination.
When the elevator finally moves, all of them lurch forward, feeling the ground underneath them undulate downwards.
“It’s taking us lower,” Go Yeongeun says.
“To the next floor,” Kim Soleum confirms.
“A mirror maze is child’s play,” Lee Seonghae says, confidently. “Even if it gets more dangerous, it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
Kim Soleum wants to chime in with support. He wants to share the same enthusiasm.
But the pit in his stomach has only deepened.
There’s no known survivor of this darkness. No mention in the wiki of what the lowest pit of hell will be. Before Kim Soleum landed in this world, he had read this new entry at its time of release in the Dark Exploration Records. While the concept of surviving nine deadly floors seemed interesting, there was not enough information available for this darkness to truly capture his attention. He knew it had ties to the Church of the Luminous Unknown, and also knew vaguely of what entailed on the upper floors, but the information was limited, the attraction sustained solely based on its mystique—on entrapment and unending horror of looping these floors like a tormented apparition.
He clenches his fist in a moment of tension, but doesn’t feel the throbbing of his shallow cut. He opens his palm and underneath the dry smear of blood, his hand is smooth, as if he had never been injured in the first place. Bewildered, he runs his finger along where the cut should be, but it does not appear again.
He did not read this in the wiki pages. He knew the elevator was meant to be a moment of true safety and respite in the midst of all the chaos awaiting them, but he did not expect it to almost work like a checkpoint.
If his information is not as extensive as he’s used to, it only means he must try his hardest to remember what he can, and work his hardest to survive it all.
The elevator only stops after a minute of lowering them down.
Down.
Down to a place where light no longer reaches them, a hidden, isolated corner.