The reflection didn't blink.
Bawang Putih stared into the bathroom mirror, steam fogging the edges.
He blinked once.
His reflection didn't.
Just smiled.
A thin, unnatural smile.
He turned quickly—no one was there.
When he looked back, the mirror showed only himself again.
He splashed cold water on his face, heart pounding. Breath shaky.
Behind him, Jahe stood in the hallway.
"You saw it," Jahe said.
Putih didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
Later that night, the power went out.
No warning. No wind. Just darkness.
Putih lit a candle. It cast tall shadows on the walls.
Bawang Merah came downstairs, phone flashlight trembling.
"I saw something in my mirror," she said.
Putih froze.
She swallowed. "It wasn't me."
They drove to the clinic the next morning.
It was taped off.
'CRIME SCENE' signs hung on the door. A police car sat idling nearby.
The receptionist was gone. The curtains drawn.
A maintenance worker hosing the sidewalk leaned toward them.
"You knew Dr. Surya?" he asked.
Putih nodded slowly.
"Strangest thing," the man muttered. "He scratched something into his wall before… before it happened."
Putih felt a chill. "What did it say?"
The man shrugged. "Something like Don't trust the mirrors. Crazy, right?"
Jahe stood beside Putih, silent as always.
And smiling.