Sayaka groaned as consciousness drew her up from the depths, slow and sticky, like wading through honey. Her head felt heavy, fuzzed at the edges, and her thoughts ran in meaningless loops.
Her cheek touched across something incredibly soft. Instead of the thin, slightly scratchy pillowcase she was used to, she was enveloped in sumptuous luxury. She shifted slightly and was sucked further into a mattress that appeared to sigh about her, hugging every line of her body.
"What the hell…?"
Her voice came out harsh and yet melodious. She smacked her lips, smelling a slight sweetness in the air – flowery, delicate, and tinged with old, polished wood. Lavender? Rose Oil? Whatever it was, it looked fancy. Far too opulent for her shabby tiny dwelling.
She slowly opened her eyes, groaning with reluctance. Light stabbed in, causing her to shudder and squint until tears pinched her eyes. When her vision cleared, her breath stuttered.
Above her, there was a ceiling that seemed like something out of a medieval aristocrat's fever dream. Graceful arches soared high overhead, each inch intricately carved with vines and little cherubs chasing each other through gilded flowers. Delicate gold filigree reflected the sunshine in subtle glimmers.
"…Okay."
She blinked again.
"Rika, did you get tired of me moping and dump me in a goddamn Airbnb castle suite?" That's exactly your style of mayhem."
Sayaka shifted as the heavy sheets rustled about her shoulders. Even her inexperienced hands recognized the bedding was expensive: layered satin quilts and embroidered throws, thick enough that when she tried to lift her arm, she had to push a lump of cloth aside. She twisted, half expecting her best friend to appear out of nowhere, making a prank video. Instead, her gaze focused on something little and familiar near her pillow.
Her phone. It was just lying there, as it always had been.
Except when she glanced around again, the rest of the room stubbornly refused to make sense. Massive emerald drapes cascaded to the floor in lush waves, framing towering windows that spilled buttery sunlight across intricate rose-patterned rugs. A delicate vanity stood nearby, its surface cluttered with crystal vials and soft brushes tipped in pale pink bristles.
Along one wall loomed a polished wardrobe of dark cherry wood, its doors etched not with ferocious beasts, but with graceful swans and flowering vines that twined together in elegant dances. Gilded sconces blossomed like lilies from the walls, each holding a single taper that glowed with gentle amber light.
A writing desk sat nearby, heaped with parchment and ink bottles, with a small curl of smoke emerging from a recently out candle. The entire place resembled a vintage theater set. Her heart made a sluggish, unpleasant flip.
"What the hell is this kind of an Airbnb style. Rika planned this right? She sent out a faint laugh that seemed far too little.
Eventually, the pressure of pure wrongness in her stomach won out. Sayaka braced her hands on the mattress and pushed herself up. Her head swam immediately, vision tunneling at the edges, and she let out a small curse before holding the covers until the dizziness passed. When she felt stable enough, she swung her legs off the bed. Her feet slipped into a large rug that nearly swallowed her toes, some sort of deep crimson monstrosity stitched with twisting silver vines.
It muffled her cautious footfall as she proceeded, instinct directing her to the far side of the room. Toward a faint glimmer of glass. Then she saw it.
A enormous mirror, nearly reaching the ceiling, was tucked behind the draperies. Its frame was fashioned from dark, almost black wood that curled into intricate roses and thorny vines. Tiny silver and mother-of-pearl chips placed along its edges reflected stray sunbeams.
Sayaka collapsed, her air trapped between her lungs and throat. Her heart made a little, apprehensive stutter.
"Maybe I passed out…. Did I even drink? Rika must have really planned it out?."
She moved closer, one step at a time, her bare feet murmuring across the velvety carpet. She moved closer, till she noticed a ghostly form resolving in the mirror's depths.
The figure staring back at her was stunning.
Sayaka was tall and willowy, dressed in a gorgeous white nightgown that hugged curves she didn't recall having. Her skin was brilliant and pale, as if dusted with fine powdered snow. A curtain of long, silvery hair fell over her shoulders and down her back, glistening like liquid moonlight but it was the face that kept her in place, her breath cruelly trapped in her chest.
High, regal cheekbones. A beautiful and narrow nose. Lips naturally curled into the tiniest grin - delicate but clearly cold and eyes —piercing, obsidian eyes, that appeared to glitter with bored scorn even as Sayaka felt her own panic rising from her ribcage.
She'd spent her entire life trying not to reveal that expression, which was harsh, mocking, and made her and neighbors whisper. Except that it was carved into every graceful line of this stranger's face. Made gorgeous, strong, and terrible.
"…No way."
Sayaka raised a quivering hand to touch her cheek.
The woman in the mirror did the same, her long pale fingertips stroking the beautiful porcelain skin. Her stomach lurched. Her knees threatened to give up.
Except that when she looked around again, the remainder of the room continued to defy logic.
Massive emerald draperies cascaded to the floor in luscious waves, enclosing towering windows that spilled buttery sunlight upon delicate rose-patterned rugs. A lovely vanity stood close, its surface packed with crystal vials and soft brushes with faint pink bristles. Along one wall was a polished dark cherry wood wardrobe, its doors engraved with beautiful swans and blossoming vines twining together in delicate dances. Gilded sconces bloomed like blossoms from the walls, each carrying a single taper that burned with soft amber light.
But her gaze could not stay on the finery. It was drawn almost involuntarily across the room, to the huge mirror on the far wall. Its dark frame was twisted with thorny roses and tiny silver leaves, catching the sun in subtle, shifting glints. Sayaka's breath became thin.
Her feet proceeded without conscious effort, the velvety rug swallowing each timid step until she stood directly in front of the glass.
There, staring back at her, was a woman so stunningly lovely that it almost seemed cruel.
She was tall and willowy, dressed in a beautiful ivory nightgown. Her skin was as pale as moonlight on fresh snow, faultless and almost too soft. A long tumble of black hair, slightly curled at the ends, cascaded over her shoulders and down her back in glossy waves.
But it was the eyes that held Sayaka in place—obsidian black, as dark as polished stone but somehow chilly, piercing right through her with terrifying precision. They had a gleam of frozen scorn, accentuated by high, aristocratic cheekbones and lips set into the tiniest sneer. It was a face designed for disdainful looks over crystal goblets and sly words delivered with a head tilt that sliced sharper than any blade.
And right now, it was wearing Sayaka's horror.
Her hand lifted slowly and trembled. She brushed her fingers to her own cheek in the glass.
The surface was frigid. Too cold, the glass slicing into her flesh like frost. The woman flinched at the same moment. Eyes expanding slightly, breath catching. The exquisite, evil façade crumbled for a brief moment.
"…This is not me."