The pitch-black hand with long fingernails gripping the tray's edge from within the chemical solution made Arya’s breath catch in his throat. His eyes dilated wide, while his entire body stiffened rigidly as though struck by a high-voltage electrical current. He wanted to scream, yet his vocal cords felt locked away by absolute horror.

No... there's no way hands can be inside there! It's just paper! It's just chemical liquid! Arya’s mind screamed hysterically, trying to convince himself amidst a panic that shattered his common sense.

Yet that fear could not stop his fingers from moving on their own under the compulsion of a horrifying trance. With hands shaking so severely that his joints ached, Arya slowly reached out, gripped the wet photographic sheet from within the tray, and lifted it into the air to inspect it closer beneath the safelight’s red glow.

The moment the photo was lifted and its chemical water dripped slowly onto the table, Arya forced both eyes to examine every single inch of the visual detail etched across the monochrome emulsion's surface.

The background of the newly printed photo was not the underground laboratory where he currently stood. The background was the main studio room located on the upper floor, complete with an old sofa, a worn-out carpet, and a large mirror framed in carved wood hanging on the wall.

Yet it was not the room's faded luxury that made Arya's blood freeze solid instantly.

Within the reflection of the large mirror depicted in the photograph, the silhouette of a human body stood frozen like a statue—it was Arya's own reflection staring straight ahead. And right behind Arya's reflection in that mirror stood an exceptionally tall, towering pitch-black shadow, draped in a tattered suit with grotesquely unnatural proportions.

That tall figure hunched in broken angles, resting both of its emaciated hands upon Arya's reflection's shoulders. And most terrifying of all: the creature's featureless face lifted upward, directing a blank gaze from within the photo frame to stare sharp and straight out of the frame—striking directly into Arya's eyes in the real world.

The shocking observation of those terrifying visual details struck Arya's head like a sledgehammer. That visual proof glared right before his eyes, shattering the final remnants of his mental defense: the entity had now truly crossed the boundary of the mirror, stepping out of the reflected world to stand within physical reality.

"It... it's broken free..." Arya whispered faintly, his voice breaking, shaking heavily, and nearly drowned out within the silence of the underground lab. Tears of terror spilled over once more to wet his pale face.

His subconscious was battered by an existential terror surpassing the limits of human reason. If that creature could step out of the mirror inside the photo, it meant no place left in this world was safe. This underground room, the upstairs studio, even the entire outside world offered no sanctuary. He was a fugitive trapped within an inescapable cycle.

With limp hands shaking uncontrollably, Arya dropped the photograph onto the table. He intended to turn his body around, run away, or at least search for a blunt object to defend himself.

Yet before he could shift a single step forward...

The sound of heavy, deeply familiar footsteps—dragging footsteps with a slow, eerie rhythm—suddenly echoed right behind Arya's back in the real world.

Swish... tap... swish... tap...

The sound was so close. So real. The concrete floor behind him creaked softly as though bearing a massively immense weight.

Arya froze entirely. His heart stopped beating for good. All the muscles across his body locked tight in the paralysis of absolute terror. He dared not turn around. He dared not breathe.

And the next second, right as the silence reached its peak, a freezing breath reeking of rotting dead flesh and the dust of the past brushed softly against the skin of his nape—alongside a lethal whisper flowing slowly to pierce his consciousness:

"I've been waiting for you here."