The mirrored Greg suddenly shuddered, as if suffering a system glitch. A shadow separated from him, took on flesh, and suddenly there were two of them. The walls around us began to crack, turning into pure glass, and from every glossy surface, my copies began to step out. Tens, hundreds of Alastias with cold eyes.

  "Alright, Greg, this isn't funny anymore!" I yelled, feeling the space around us shrinking from the sheer number of bodies.

  There were so many Gregs that it became hard to breathe in the hall. A crush was starting.

  I stopped holding back. The mana of Destruction burst outward, turning the mirrored dolls into glass dust. Greg didn't lag behind, though he managed to comment on every single one of his strikes: "Wow, it's so weird destroying myself... Oh, this one had a better haircut... Take that!"

  BAM!

  One of the Gregs deliberately elbowed me in the shoulder. "OW! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" I shrieked, spinning around. "HEY, IT'S ME! THE ORIGINAL!" he yelled, dodging my retaliatory discharge. "Oh, sorry. My mistake. You all look the same in this crowd!"

  In the end, we turned the hall into a full-blown glass factory. We smashed everything: the fakes, the walls, the ceiling. When the last mirror crashed to the floor with a ring, a ringing silence fell over the room.

  I turned around. Standing before me were two Gregs. Absolutely identical. The same rags, the same postures.

  "Greg?" I called out uncertainly.

  Both Gregs smiled synchronously, eerily identically. And then they began gesturing, offering me to guess which one of them was the real one. A game of "shell game," where instead of a ball—it was him.

  I didn't bother guessing. Without looking, I unleashed a massive charge of mana into the one standing on the left.

  BANG!

  Greg flew a good five meters, skidded across the shards on his back, and roared for the whole hall to hear: "ARE YOU CRAZY?! THAT HURT!"

  Without wasting a second, I redirected a second charge into the second Greg. That one didn't even squeak—he just popped like a soap bubble, leaving absolutely nothing behind.

  The real Greg stood up, dusting off his white uniform, and began waving his arms indignantly. "How could you confuse me with that knockoff?! I am the pinnacle of creation, and you hit me with lightning! Do you have no conscience at all, Alastia?!"

  I stood there silently looking at him. Only now, in the twilight of the shattered hall, did I notice his eyes. One was the usual black, absorbing light. But the other... bright purple. The deep, pure color of a royal ruby. In the mirrored world, this eye seemed unnaturally beautiful, almost hypnotic.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  "The man from the fairy tales," flashed through my head.

  "Alright, Alastia, stop staring at me," Greg grumbled. "Let's move on. Before this house decides to create a couple hundred more copies of me."

  He grabbed my hand, and together we jumped into the exact same mirror we had entered through.

  Finally—another door. Greg had already reached for the handle, but at the last moment sharply jerked his fingers back, as if from red-hot iron. "Whoa... Almost got caught," he muttered.

  I didn't ask what he saw there. I simply walked over to the wall next to the doorway and pulled on a completely invisible protrusion. With a quiet hiss, the stone slid aside, revealing a passageway.

  We entered a massive hall, flooded with a cold, bluish light. In the very center, hovering above a massive pedestal, was a giant crystal, pulsing to the rhythm of the Academy's heart.

  "O-O-OH! THERE IT IS!" Greg practically jumped with delight.

  He instantly whipped out his map, and a thin, barely noticeable thread of mana stretched from the crystal to the paper. The crystal flared for a moment, Greg's map trembled, and hundreds of living, moving dots began to appear on it.

  "Done! It's ready!" he exhaled.

  I looked around. Smaller crystals stood along the perimeter of the hall, acting as magical screens. "Greg, look," I pointed a finger at the nearest facet. "That's the cafeteria. And over there... the gym."

  On the screen, Lianel was visible. She was drenched in sweat, fiercely fighting her dummy, which, judging by its movements, wasn't giving her a second to breathe. Empty corridors, floating islands, and decoy stairs flickered on another crystal. From here, you could observe every breath taken in this Academy.

  I walked up to one of the display cases and brushed away a layer of centuries-old dust. Under the glass, on a copper plaque, three letters were proudly displayed: Y.N.U.

  "What does this abbreviation mean?" I asked, but Greg was no longer listening to me.

  "Time to go!" he yelled, pointing at a thick gray gas. "The security system has woken up!"

  He held his hand out to me. I gripped his palm tightly.

  POP.

  The world flipped. We materialized on the wide, wind-swept roof of the First Building. The horizon was slowly filling with a delicate pink—the sun was just beginning its journey.

  "Beautiful..." I whispered, turning my face to the cool wind.

  Greg wasn't looking at the sunrise. Without looking away, he was watching his map, which now displayed all of the Academy's movements in real-time. "It works," he stated with satisfaction.

  I looked at the back of his head. Then at my left hand. Slowly, holding my breath, I pulled off my glove. Skin to skin. I knew I was taking a risk, but curiosity was stronger than fear.

  Cautiously, I touched the crown of his head with my palm.

  In that exact second, the incredible happened. The moment my fingers touched his black hair, it began to change color. From the point of contact, like frost on glass, a blinding whiteness began to spread. The strands were turning snow-white right beneath my hands.

  Greg didn't flinch. He just... went limp. With a quiet sigh, he slowly sank backward onto the warm stone masonry of the roof, offering his head to my palm.

  I began to scratch his hair, letting the white, silky strands slip through my fingers. For the first time in my life, I was touching someone alive without gloves. For the first time, my curse didn't turn the world to ash, but instead seemed to find an outlet in this strange, bottomless creature.

  Greg let out a deep, vibrating sound. He was purring. For real, like a massive, contented cat that had found the warmest spot in the house.

  And I continued to pet him, looking at the rising sun and feeling a strange, frightening sense of peace.

  "Amazing," I thought.