‖———[50%]———‖
"....This looks good on you. Don’t you think?"
The man stared at himself in the mirror.
"Is this me...?" He touched his face, feeling incredulous. Not only was his skin a lot better than before, but with his black suit, he almost looked like an entirely different person.
"This is you."
A soft hand pressed against his cheek as a head leaned over his shoulder.
"My eyes are never wrong. From the moment I saw you, I knew that you had the potential."
"Oh."
The man looked at himself in the mirror again.
After a short moment, he began to cough.
"Cough! Cough...!" It wasn’t anything strong, but it had been happening more and more frequently.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I’m... fine."
"Okay. Just give me a moment."
Turning back, his girlfriend faded from the reflection for a brief moment. She came back not long after.
"This is...?"
"Just a finishing touch."
Going on the tip of her toes, his girlfriend placed something on the man’s head.
"Here. Much better."
With a pleased smile, the woman guided the man toward the mirror once more. This time, his eyes caught on the addition. A tall black top hat, standing tall and perfectly matched to his suit.
"Look at you. It’s perfect!"
"...Mhm."
The man nodded, also finding the top hat to be a great addition.
"Mhhh. Actually, there’s something missing."
The woman whispered from behind, placing her hands on the edges of the man’s lips and pulling them up.
"A smile. We’re missing a smile."
‖————[70%]——‖
"Are you sure about this? Cough...! Won’t your family reject me...? I mean, I know we’re already married and I’ve yet to meet them, but I’m nothing special. I’m just a singer. If—"
"Don’t worry too much."
The woman pressed her finger against the man’s lips, shutting him up as she smiled.
"My family doesn’t care about background or where someone is from. They are very understanding of my choices. Let’s just go without any worries. I’m sure they’re going to love you."
"...Okay. Cough!"
Holding onto his luggage, the man slowly turned back.
A massive train greeted his sight, steam billowing from its smokestack as people streamed in and out of its doors.
Taking a step up, he followed his wife into the train, entering his cubicle and sitting down. As he did, he stared at the window outside, just barely containing his emotions.
But soon, a warm hand pressed against his.
He turned his head to see his wife smiling softly at him.
"Like I said. Don’t worry. My family is very understanding. Just..." His wife paused, her lips pursing together as she eventually smiled. "Just give them your best smile."
‖—————[80%]-—‖
The estate rose out of the countryside like a painting. Broad lawns, sculpted hedges, fountains spilling silver water under the sun. The man held his wife’s hand as they approached the entrance, luggage dragging behind him.
The door opened before he could knock. A butler in white gloves bowed with perfect grace.
"Welcome, miss. Welcome, sir. The family has been expecting you."
Inside, the air smelled faintly of roses and polished wood. Chandeliers glittered above, light scattering like broken glass across the marble floor.
"Mother! Father!"
His wife called out brightly, staring ahead.
"We’re here!"
From the top of the stairs, two figures emerged. Her father was tall, broad-shouldered, in a pristine suit. Her mother glided at his side in a gown that shimmered faintly as though woven with threads of silver.
Their smiles were wide, their voices warm.
"So this is him," her mother said, stepping forward to embrace him as if he were already family. "You’re even more handsome than she described."
The father gripped his shoulder firmly. "A singer, yes? We’ve heard so much. The arts run in your blood. That’s good. That’s very good."
The man flushed.
"I... I’m honored to be here."
"Oh, nonsense," the mother laughed. "You’re one of us already."
They led him deeper into the house. The corridors were long, branching out in different directions as the walls were lined with more portraits. In each portrait, he noticed something peculiar. Their clothing... It looked similar to his. He tried not to stare.
Dinner was a lavish affair.
Crystal glasses, silver cutlery, platters of roasted meats, and fruit glistening like jewels. The family gathered around the long table. Uncles, aunts, cousins, each more refined and gracious than the last.
Their eyes shone with interest as they asked him questions.
"How did you and our darling meet?"
"When did you first discover your talent?"
"Would you sing for us, perhaps? Just a little something?"
Encouraged by their eagerness, he did. His voice filled the hall, echoing beneath the chandelier.
The family listened intently, not a fork or knife moving, every smile fixed on him.
When he finished, the room erupted in polite applause.
"Marvelous!"
Her father said.
"Truly marvelous. That voice... It’s a gift."
Her mother leaned forward.
"But gifts must be shared. Given freely. Don’t you agree?"
"Eh...? Oh, yes, ma’am." He replied, not fully understanding the meaning of her words.
The meal carried on, the family laughing and telling stories, but he noticed it. The way their laughter always seemed to fall into the same rhythm, as if rehearsed.
The way they sometimes looked at each other too long, lips moving as though repeating words silently.
Later, when he excused himself to the bathroom, he passed a study with the door ajar. Inside, he glimpsed an open book on the desk. Its pages were covered in verse, old ink spelling out words that made his skin prickle:
He walks in echoes, he creeps in noise.
He feeds on whimpers, he drinks your voice.
He shivered, his eyes darting around before settling on the drawing of an eye. One that stared back at him.
Shivers ran down his spine, and his mind throbbed.
For a brief moment, he nearly collapsed on the spot. Thankfully, collecting himself quickly, he shut the door and moved away.
Back in their room, he whispered to his wife, "That book downstairs... what is it?"
She turned her head on the pillow, smiling softly. "Just an old family poem. Nothing to worry about."
"Still... it felt strange."
Her hand slid to his cheek. "You think too much. Sleep. Tomorrow they’ll show you the grounds. You’ll feel more at home."
"Mhm."
Huh, wait...?
How did she know which book he was talking about?
‖—————[90%]—‖
The days blurred together.
Her cousins took him hunting, yet no animals stirred in the woods. Her aunts invited him to tea, pouring cups but never drinking themselves. The butler guided him through galleries where every portrait seemed to follow his movements with their painted eyes.
Always the same words:
"Smile more."
"That suit suits you."
"The hat will look perfect on you soon."
One evening, as the sun bled across the horizon, the father invited him into the library. Shelves climbed the walls, heavy with leather-bound tomes.
"You have a rare gift."
The father said, pouring two glasses of wine.
"Do you know how many singers lose their voice by your age? But yours... yours has such strength."
"Thank... you, sir."
The father handed him a glass, his eyes gleaming.
"Our family honors strength. But what we honor above all is faith. We’re trying to change the world, albeit slowly. The secret lies in here." Pointing at his temple, the father looked at the man. "It’s in your head. The answer to everything."
The man shifted uneasily.
"I... don’t quite understand."
"You will."
The father’s smile faded.
That night, he dreamed of voices, hundreds of them, crawling into his ears. ’Run! Run as fast as possible! Leave this place!’ When he opened his mouth to scream, he found his voice completely stripped from his mouth.
He awoke gasping, his wife’s arms wrapped around him.
"It’s only nerves."
She murmured.
"They love you already. Just trust me."
‖————————[98%]‖
The final night came. A celebration, they said. The entire family gathered in the great hall, dressed in black suits and gowns, top hats crowning their heads. Candles burned in a perfect circle around the floor.
"Stand here."
His wife guided him gently to the center.
"What’s happening?" He whispered, his heart pressing against his chest.
"An initiation. Nothing more."
Her mother’s voice rose, reciting words in a tongue he didn’t know. The family joined in, the chant swelling until it filled the hall.
The man clutched his head. His mind... It felt like something was hammering it strongly. He could feel it pulse in his mind, and his body grew weaker by the second.
"I... I can’t..."
"Don’t fight it," his wife whispered. Her smile was soft, almost tender. "You’ll be so much more when it’s done. You’re only feeling sick for a short moment. That’s just your cognitive shard acting up. Once everything is done, you’ll be free."
"F-free..? W-what? Cough! Cognitive... what? No, I can’t... I need to leave."
Shaking his head, the man turned around. But just as he did, a hand pressed against his shoulder, stopping him in place.
"....!?"
He turned around to see his wife staring at him.
The smile wiped off his face.
"You know I can’t do that."
A sinister red circle lit up moments after, enveloping him completely. His face changed drastically moments later as he felt a piercing pain in his mind.
"Ahhhh—!"
A scream ripped out of his throat.
Thump!
His body convulsed violently before collapsing to his knees. From the polished floor, his reflection leered back at him, his lips splitting into an ever-widening grin.
Fingers stretched unnaturally long, jerking with erratic twitches.
Cra Crack!
His spine cracked as his back arched, his frame twisting, unfolding into something impossibly tall, grotesquely thin.
And soon—
Silence.
A long and stifling silence.
A hat settled on his head not long after.
"There. That’s better."
A voice whispered not after.
He tried to speak, but no words came. He only smiled.
The family cheered.
"Congratulations to our new family member."
"Welcome!"
"It’s very nice to have you!"
The man, no longer himself, rose on trembling legs. His grin never faltered. The cheers around him increased, pressing against his ears.
He turned, gazing at his wife.
She kissed his cheek gently, a tear falling down his eye.
"Welcome home, my Twisted Man."
‖————————[100%]‖