[The room is now bathed in a red hue.
The walls are burning with the marks of words previously written.
The typewriter has shifted inside the mirror.]
[Real Ashe lies on the ground, his entire body covered in words — like a living diary.
The white paper stuck to his chest is now soaked red.]
[Inside the mirror, the Duplicate Ashe sits. Calm. Cold.
Like a writer… ready to begin.]
---
[The scene opens with the sound of a typewriter:]
Chik. Chik.
Chik chik chik.
> "That was the day Ashe heard the screams."
"The door was closed. But the cries reached deep inside."
---
[Real Ashe begins to stir.
His voice is weak. Confused.]
Real Ashe (slowly waking):
"...No… I never even wrote this…"
Duplicate Ashe (speaking from inside the mirror, emotionless):
"That's exactly why I'm the one writing it."
---
[Ashe tries to move — but every time he shifts, new words burn themselves into his skin.
He groans in pain.]
Real Ashe (struggling):
"How… how are you writing things I only thought?"
Duplicate Ashe (coldly):
"I'm the part of you that you never had the courage to write.
All the things you only thought… and buried."
---
[A flash appears inside the mirror —
a scene unfolds:
Ashe is secretly watching a little girl scream behind a closed door.
He does nothing. Just watches.]
Real Ashe (shocked, eyes wide):
"STOP!!
I… I was just scared!!"
[But the typewriter doesn't stop:]
> "He saw her. He thought, 'I should do something.'"
"But he didn't."
"That was the first time he erased himself before he ever wrote a word."
---
[Every corner of the room now whispers his name —
over and over —
like the world itself is screaming the truth of his thoughts back at him.]
"Ashe… Ashe… Ashe…"
[Inside the mirror, the Reflection smiles — for the first time.]
Duplicate Ashe (softly):
"The more you hide…
the more I'll write."
---
[Suddenly, behind the Reflection, another typewriter appears —
but it's soaked in blood.
With every keypress, a scream echoes out.]
chik—AAAAAAAAAAHH—chik—AAAAAAAAAAHH—
> "Next truth: Ashe was in love with pain."
---
Real Ashe (terrified, screaming):
"NO!! YOU'RE WRONG!! I WASN'T LIKE THAT!!"
Duplicate Ashe (sharp, cutting):
"Oh, you were.
And now every reader will know it."
---
[On the mirror, a new sentence begins to blink — one single line:]
> "You will now feel what you refused to write."
---
[Ashe's chest begins to burn.
Every hidden thought,
every truth he never dared to say —
turns into a line on his skin, sliced and carved.]
[He screams —
and those screams…
appear as words on the mirror.]
Real Ashe (in agony):
"...So I've become…
nothing more than a blank page…?"
Duplicate Ashe (coldly, final):
"You're not a blank page…
You're a cursed one."
---
[Scene fades.
The walls of the room begin to scream together —
a story is being written…
But the writer is no longer human…
And the written is now alive.]
---
END OF CHAPTER 4 — PART 1