The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow that spilled into Shiho's dimly lit room. Dust motes danced in the fading light, swirling around the edges of the old mirror that now stood as a centerpiece on her cluttered desk. Its ornate silver frame, adorned with intricate floral carvings that seemed to bloom even in the waning daylight, reflected more than just Shiho's image; it whispered secrets from another realm.

Shiho leaned closer, her brow furrowing as she scrutinized her reflection. The girl gazing back at her had a sharp, defined jaw and tousled hair that framed her face like a wild halo. But it was not her appearance that sent a shiver of unease up her spine; it was the shadow that flickered at the periphery of the glass, a soft silhouette that didn’t quite match the contours of her own.

“Is anyone there?” she whispered, half-expecting the silence to swallow her words whole. Her voice was taut, edged with the sharpness of a blade. It was a risk to speak; she had spent years building walls around her heart, and now, here she was, dismantling them one cautious brick at a time.

From the depths of the mirror came a voice, soft yet resonant, like a distant melody carried by the wind. “It took you long enough to look past the glass.”

Shiho’s heart raced as she stumbled back, catching herself on the edge of her bed. The voice felt both familiar and foreign, a haunting echo that reverberated through her very soul. It was a person's voice, laced with an undercurrent of sorrow. She stared at the mirror, her pulse thrumming in her ears, the reflection shifting like water rippling under a gentle breeze.

“Are you real?” she managed to croak, her tone laced with equal parts intrigue and trepidation.