The door to Room Zero was heavier than it looked.
Nero placed his hand on the cold handle, feeling a slight vibration pulsing beneath the metal — like a heartbeat.
**Thud. Thud. Thud.**
He hesitated. Not because he was afraid of what was behind the door, but because a part of him already knew.
The door creaked open.
There was no light inside. Not a flicker.
As he stepped in, a blinding silence swallowed him whole.
Not the absence of noise — no, it was *something deeper*. A pressure, a hum, like the room itself was holding its breath.
And then…
> *Click.*
Light.
A single bulb buzzed to life overhead, swinging from the ceiling like it had just been disturbed by someone. But no one was there.
Nero's shadow warped along the walls, stretching and folding in impossible directions. This room didn't follow normal space.
On the far side of the room, a chair sat in the middle of a white circle etched into the concrete. It was stained, chipped… but familiar.
His eyes narrowed.
He had sat there before.
---
The wall across from the chair wasn't a wall at all — it was a **mirror**.
But something was wrong.
Nero stared into it, expecting his reflection. Instead, he saw a **younger version of himself** — perhaps thirteen — sitting in the chair, blinking slowly, lips moving as if repeating something over and over.
Nero approached.
The boy looked up — their eyes locked — and then the boy mouthed:
> "You promised you wouldn't come back."
A chill tore through Nero's spine.
He blinked.
The mirror shimmered — and now it showed him sitting in the chair. But this version of him wasn't blinking. Wasn't breathing. Just smiling.
**The Glass Smile.**
Nero stumbled backward.
The mirror flickered again — and this time, it was empty.
No chair. No reflection.
Only static.
The air shifted. The door behind him shut with a metallic slam.
Lights went out.
Darkness, thick as oil.
---
> *"They always remember wrong at first."*
The voice came from everywhere and nowhere. Crisp, calculated, calm.
Nero clenched his fists. "Show yourself."
> "Why? You already see me."
Suddenly, the floor beneath him changed. Smooth tile turned to *padded white*. Like an asylum cell.
He was no longer standing.
He was sitting in the chair.
Strapped down.
**No. No, I'm not.** He tried to move — and couldn't.
Something *wasn't right*. His body wasn't reacting. His muscles were numb. He wasn't dreaming — this was real. Or it was meant to feel real.
> "This is where I built you, Nero," the voice continued. "From fragments, from failures. You were Patient 000. The first one who ever *saw* the echoes… and didn't break."
A silhouette emerged from the wall.
Tall, lean. Wearing a long coat. His face shimmered — like glass submerged in water.
No details. Just reflections. Shifting.
Nero stared at him. "You're the Mind Weaver."
The man nodded slowly. "Names are useful. Until they aren't."
> "Why me?" Nero's voice was hoarse.
> "Because you were curious. And curiosity…" the figure stepped closer, "is a doorway you never learn how to close."
He raised a hand, and suddenly the room warped — into a memory.
A hospital hallway. Blinding white lights. A small boy screaming, strapped to a gurney.
It was **Nero.**
Fighting, thrashing, eyes wide with terror.
Behind him, a woman in a lab coat whispered:
> "He's showing patterns. Unstructured cognition. We're close."
Nero watched himself as a child — saw the pain, the wires, the fear.
And yet…
There was something else there too.
**Focus.**
He wasn't afraid. He was *watching*. Even then.
---
The scene dissolved.
They were back in Room Zero.
"You broke me," Nero muttered.
"No," said the Weaver. "I let you break yourself. That's the point. You can only find what's real once you've buried what isn't."
He walked closer.
"And you, Nero… you buried everything. Parents. Truth. Pain. Even me."
A long pause.
Then he added, "And now… I need you to remember. Because I am *leaving*. And someone needs to carry on the work."
Nero's heart raced. "You think I'd become like you?"
"You already are," the Weaver replied. "Why do you think the echoes call to you? Because you left pieces of yourself in every mind I touched. You're not a victim, Nero."
His glassy face shimmered, and for a fraction of a second—
Nero saw **his own face** reflected there.
Younger. Smiling.
> *The Glass Smile.*
---
Then it snapped.
The straps were gone.
The chair vanished.
Nero collapsed onto the cold floor, gasping.
Lights flicked on.
The door to Room Zero stood open again.
And standing in the doorway…
Was **Sarai**.
Her face was pale. Eyes locked on him.
"You saw him, didn't you?" she asked.
Nero nodded, still catching his breath.
"What did he say?"
Nero stood slowly, his limbs shaking.
"He said he's leaving."
She stared, then whispered, "Then we don't have much time."
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
Sarai's voice trembled. "He never leaves unless he's finished building something. And if he's finished…"
She swallowed hard.
"…then it's about to wake up."
---