Dusk slowly settled over the poor tenement alley of Saigon. The last rays of sunlight filtered through green trees, casting golden beams over a small sidewalk food stall where Trang was busily preparing rice paper snacks and milk tea for a group of elementary school children.

  Her hands moved swiftly, dividing the mixed rice paper—flavored with fried shallots, chili oil, scallion fat, and other fresh ingredients—into small plastic bags.

  “Here’s the chili-oil rice paper for little Hoa. This one’s garlic-scallion rice paper for Hùng… and the milk tea with extra toppings is for Th?ng, right?”

  Once the kids had left, she began cleaning up while muttering to herself:

  “Almost saved enough to buy that used motorbike… H?ng Nhung promised to sell it cheap.”

  Her old Cub 50cc bike was barely holding up—its engine sputtered and sometimes stalled in the middle of the road, leaving Trang in more than a few embarrassing situations. Her best friend H?ng Nhung, who worked at a nearby nail salon, had offered to sell her a secondhand Wave in good condition, at a friendly price. To Trang, it was a glimmer of hope.

  Just then, a strange stillness fell over the tenement. The air grew heavy and unnaturally silent. The late-afternoon sun cast long shadows that gave the alley an eerie, almost haunted feel. At the far end of the row of rooms, ?ng Nhan’s door remained tightly shut. No one knew that behind it… lurked a force that didn’t belong to this world.

  Inside, ?ng Nhan sat calmly in an old wooden chair, his eyes as cold as mist. In his hand was the Velkhanis mirror—an oval-shaped wooden artifact etched with strange, ancient, and indecipherable runes.

  But the mirror did not reflect his own face.

  Instead, it showed a luxurious bedroom—My’s room—where Tu?n, C?u D?ng, Deep, Ti?n, Mr. Quy, and Mrs. Lan were anxiously trying to find a way out of their dire situation. They were placing their hopes on a miracle from a shaman friend of Vú N?m.

  ?ng Nhan let out a quiet, icy laugh:

  “Let’s see who you dare summon to go up against me...”

  His eyes narrowed, tongue lightly licking his lips, a half-smile curling on his face—like a predator watching helpless prey struggle in the mire, unaware there's no way out.

  “And Vú N?m… that old woman talks too much. That ancient book? Hah! Its information about me is flawed. I am far more terrifying… stronger… crueler… a hundred—no, a thousand times more so.”

  A chilling laugh burst from his throat—deep, steady, drawn out like an echo from the underworld. The air itself seemed to tremble with each pulse of that laughter.

  Within the mirror, the image of My suddenly flickered, as if a cold, dark force had

  brushed across her very soul.

  Trang was busy organizing the jars of ingredients when the sound of a motorbike echoed outside her stall. She looked up and saw her best friend, H?ng Nhung, pulling over at the curb.

  “Trang! I brought you some Bún Riêu, and an extra portion just like you asked!”

  H?ng Nhung’s voice carried the soft, familiar accent of Hanoi.

  Trang rushed out to grab the three steaming bowls of Bún Riêu:

  “Thanks, Nhung. I asked you to buy an extra portion for ?ng Nhan. I’ll pay you back in a bit, okay?”

  H?ng Nhung raised her eyebrows in surprise:

  “?ng Nhan… the old scrap collector at the end of the row? The one you always talk about?”

  Trang nodded softly, her gaze distant:

  “Yeah. I don’t really have any family left… so I think of ?ng Nhan like a father. Can you grab three ceramic bowls and some chopsticks from my room? Let’s eat here.”

  H?ng Nhung went into Trang’s small room, returned with the bowls and utensils, and began assembling the noodle soup, ladling the rich broth over the toppings as she shook her head:

  “Your C?u D?ng is filthy rich—he’s a construction steel tycoon—and yet he doesn’t lift a finger. He’s your blood uncle, isn’t he?”

  Trang gave a faint smile, her voice tinged with quiet sadness:

  “He raised me from when I was five, after my parents passed away. He paid for my schooling, gave me a roof over my head—that's already more than enough. He has his own wife and kids, his own life… he can’t be expected to take care of me forever.”

  H?ng Nhung paused. Seeing the look in her friend’s eyes made her throat tighten. She had seen Trang strong and resilient so many times, but those words… hit her differently. She furrowed her brows:

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “I’m sure it was his wife and those spoiled daughters of his that pressured him to kick you out five years ago. I haven’t seen the youngest daughter around though. What are the other two’s names again?”

  Trang let out a faint, bitter laugh:

  “C?u D?ng has three daughters. The eldest, Anh ?ào, just got married yesterday. The second, Anh Th?, is still living at home with him. The youngest, Anh Ph??ng, is studying abroad in Canada.”

  H?ng Nhung sighed:

  “Well, I guess it makes sense… blood is blood. He has to put his own kids first.”

  As the two close friends sat and chatted, neither of them knew that, in the last room of the row—the one where ?ng Nhan sat—the Velkhanis mirror in his hands was quietly reflecting an image of Trang.

  He watched the young girl with a silent, thoughtful gaze… one filled with tenderness for the poor orphaned soul, cast out by her own flesh and blood.

  In the small rental room, the dim yellow light spilled softly through an old window. In ?ng Nhan’s hand was the wooden Velkhanis mirror. The image of Trang appeared clearly inside, busy assembling bowls of Bún Riêu. His eyes gleamed with a strange glint, though his voice was as soft as a breath:

  “Just a little longer… and I’ll bring you to the world of darkness. That will be your true home… You shall be a princess—the daughter of this Satan. I will give you everything, a royal life among the dark nobility that no one else could ever have…”

  He reached out, gently touching the surface of the mirror—Crack!—the mirror shattered into a swirl of smoke and vanished without a trace.

  Right at that moment, a soft knock came from outside the room.

  “?ng Nhan, I brought you some Bún Riêu! Let’s eat together—it’ll be fun!”

  It was Trang’s cheerful, familiar voice.

  The door creaked open. ?ng Nhan appeared in his usual form—faded button-up shirt, unkempt silver hair, and gentle, kind eyes.

  “Thank you, dear. You came just in time… I was starting to get hungry.”

  Trang handed him a steaming bowl of Bún Riêu, its savory aroma warming the entire room.

  “Then I guess I came at the perfect time, huh?” she beamed.

  ?ng Nhan nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

  “Yes… perfect timing.”

  “Eat it while it’s still hot, okay? I’ll head back to my stall—my friend’s watching over it for me.”

  With that, Trang turned to leave, her steps light and carefree—completely unaware that behind her, ?ng Nhan’s eyes remained fixed on her figure, full of quiet affection… the kind a father holds for a daughter forgotten by the world of men.

  At the Th?o ?i?n villa in the late afternoon, an atmosphere of tension and worry still hung thick in the air. A steel-gray car pulled up in front of the gate. A doctor stepped out, clad in a white coat, his expression solemn.

  Deep and Ti?n were already waiting and quickly opened the gate.

  “Doctor, welcome. Please come in, everyone’s waiting. It’s urgent.”

  “I came as soon as I received Mr. Quy’s call. Take me to the patient’s room right away.”

  The three of them hurried upstairs. The door to My’s room opened, and Mr. Quy and Mrs. Lan rushed over, their faces filled with relief.

  “Doctor, you’re here! Please examine our daughter. All last night she kept screaming, delirious… she said she was trapped in terrifying nightmares!”

  “Please check her thoroughly, Doctor. We’re really worried it might be some kind of psychological illness…” said Tu?n, his eyes red from stress and sleepless nights.

  The doctor nodded, speaking in a calming tone:

  “Everyone, stay calm. Let me examine her first.”

  He placed a stethoscope on My’s chest, checked her pulse, examined her pupils with a light. After a few silent, professional minutes, he exhaled softly.

  “There are no signs of physical injury. But she’s suffering from a mental breakdown due to extreme emotional stress. Her unstable psychological state has overstimulated her nervous system, leading to hallucinations, nightmares, and panic attacks.”

  “Then… can our daughter be cured?” asked Mrs. Lan, clutching her husband’s hand, eyes brimming with tears.

  “Psychological trauma takes time to heal. It won’t be cured overnight. I’ll prescribe a light sedative to help her sleep more deeply, so she can gradually recover her mental state. I’ll return tomorrow morning to re-evaluate and adjust the medication if needed.”

  He opened a large square medical bag and pulled out a glass jar with a labeled seal.

  “This is a sedative to help her sleep better. However, there’s another type of neuro-support medication I don’t currently have on me. I’ll write a prescription—someone should pick it up at the nearest pharmacy.”

  Deep quickly grabbed a notepad. Tu?n received the prescription, his hands trembling. Mrs. Lan quietly wiped away her tears.

  Outside, the sky was beginning to darken… Inside the softly lit room, My’s calm breathing slowly began to overpower the tension—as if signaling the faint return of hope.

  After the doctor gave his assessment, the tension in the room gradually settled. But suspicion still lingered at the corner of Mrs. Lan’s eyes.

  She glanced toward Vú N?m, her voice laced with bitterness:

  “So my daughter’s just mentally stressed? There’s no such thing as a Satanic Lord of Darkness. Spouting nonsense like that just causes panic in the family.”

  The doctor furrowed his brow and turned to Mrs. Lan:

  “Did you just say... Satanic Lord of Darkness? What do you mean by that? I don’t understand.”

  Deep spoke up, trying to clarify:

  “Last night, during one of My’s nightmares, Vú N?m rushed into the room and claimed she saw a shadow in the big mirror—one that looked exactly like a demonic king, the Lord Satan himself. The mirror is right next to her wardrobe.”

  The doctor frowned, visibly annoyed:

  “In this day and age—practically tech age 5.0—and people still believe in ghosts and demons? It’s all hallucinations caused by a neural disorder. I think my job here is done. I’ll return tomorrow morning to check on her again.”

  Just as the doctor stood up, My suddenly thrashed wildly on the bed, clawing at her face and screaming in terror:

  “Help me!!! The worms… they’re crawling out of my face! They’re gnawing through my skin!”

  Tu?n, Ti?n, and Deep rushed to restrain her. Her body convulsed violently, her hands tearing at the air as if something invisible were ripping into her.

  “Doctor! Hurry!” Tu?n shouted amid the chaos.

  The doctor swiftly opened his bag and pulled out a syringe.

  “Hold her steady! I’m administering a sedative now!”

  Ti?n pinned My’s shoulders down, Deep held her legs, while Tu?n tried to soothe her by gently stroking her hair. Sweat poured from all three men like rain.

  The doctor injected the sedative into her arm. Slowly, her spasms lessened. Though she was still breathing heavily, her muscles began to relax. Her eyes closed, but her lips continued to mutter in a whisper:

  “They… in the mirror… don’t let them touch me…”

  Across the room, the large mirror stood silently, seemingly ordinary—but the reflection within was distorted, rippling faintly… as if something unseen was breathing behind the glass. A chill crept in through the window and slid across the surface—cold and subtle—as though someone, or something, was smiling just beyond the veil of darkness.