Time passed in silence before the clown finally moved again.

He took a slow step forward, his shoes making a soft sound against the floor.

His eyes stayed on Vivian the whole time, watching him carefully.

“I have noticed something,” the clown said, his tone lighter than before. “You are trying to control your emotions.”

He took another step, tilting his head slightly.

“No matter what happens… no matter what you lose… you don’t react.” His smile grew a little wider. “Not even a little.”

He stopped a short distance away.

“It’s almost like you are empty inside.”

For a brief moment, he said nothing more. Then he let out a soft laugh.

“I think this next game will be perfect for you,” he continued. “After all… it is all about emotions.”

He raised his hand slowly, lifting two fingers into the air.

The space around them grew quiet.

“So for the last game…” he said, looking upward as if calling someone from above.

He clapped his hands twice.

Clap! Clap!

“…we summon our one and only…” his voice turned playful, almost excited.

“Mister Mirror!”

Pop!

A soft burst of pink smoke appeared in front of him.

It swirled for a moment, thick and bright, then slowly began to clear.

From within it, something dropped onto the ground with a light thud.

It was a mirror.

Old.

Its frame was golden, with small carvings running along the edges.

The surface of the mirror was clean, almost too clean, reflecting light in a strange way.

But that was not the strange part.

The mirror moved.

Two tiny legs stretched out from its base. Small arms formed on its sides, each ending in a little fist.

Then, slowly, two large eyes opened on its surface.

A mouth appeared beneath them.

It blinked once.

Then it smiled.

“Mirror, mirror, what you are?” it sang in a cheerful, childish tone.

“I’m your partner, here to play, to show your truth in every way!”

Its voice echoed slightly, like a toy that had been wound up.

The mirror tilted from side to side, as if looking around with curiosity.

It looked harmless.

Almost funny.

Like something made to entertain children.

Vivian stared at it without speaking.

His eyes remained calm, but his mind was moving.

‘What is this…?’ he thought.

The mirror’s presence felt strange.

Not strong.

Not threatening.

But different.

‘It has something to do with emotions… he continued quietly in his mind. And maybe… control.’

The clown watched him closely.

Even now, with no arms and no legs, Vivian showed no fear.

That made the clown smile.

“He still thinks,” the clown muttered under his breath. “Still calm… still steady.”

He let out a quiet chuckle.

“But it won’t matter.”

His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at Vivian.

“Once this round ends… his head will still go flying.”

He straightened up again, his cheerful expression returning as if nothing had been said.

“Now then!” he said loudly, clapping his hands once.

“Let me explain the rules!”

The mirror took a few small steps forward.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

It stopped right in front of Vivian.

So close that Vivian could clearly see his own reflection.

Or rather—

What was left of it.

A broken body.

Covered in blood.

Standing without limbs.

Still.

Unmoving.

Like a damaged doll.

The clown raised a finger.

“You will look at the mirror,” he said. “And I will ask you questions.”

He paused for a moment to let the words sink in.

“You will not answer with words.”

His smile widened.

“You will answer with your face.”

The mirror’s eyes grew slightly bigger, as if excited.

“If your expression matches what the mirror shows…” the clown continued slowly, “you pass.”

“But if it does not match…”

He dragged his finger lightly across his own neck.

“You lose.”

The space fell silent again.

The rules were simple.

Too simple.

Vivian kept his gaze on the mirror.

His reflection stared back at him.

Empty.

Still.

Without emotion.

For a brief moment, nothing moved.

Then—

Vivian gave a small nod.

In the mirror—

The reflection nodded as well.

The clown’s grin widened.

“Good,” he said softly.

He took a small step back, giving them space.

Then he raised his hand again.

“Let’s begin.”

The clown giggled as he watched Vivian.

That empty face.

That still gaze.

Not even a twitch.

“I will ask you three questions,” the clown said, lifting one finger. “And your reflection must copy your expression.”

He leaned forward slightly, his grin sharp.

“If it does not match…” he dragged his nail across his neck, “…you lose.”

He straightened again.

“So… the first question is—”

He paused.

Letting the silence stretch.

“What do you think about that mysterious figure… the one I call Master?”

For the first time, something changed.

Not in Vivian.

In the clown.

A faint trace of dread appeared in his eyes.

Small.

But real.

And he did not hide it.

Vivian looked at the mirror.

His reflection looked back.

Still.

Unmoving.

“What I think about your master…” Vivian said in a calm voice.

“…is that he is not normal.”

His eyes did not change.

“Whoever he is… he is deeply tied to me.”

A short pause.

“And the path I am walking right now… the path of mastering emotions…”

“…he has already completed it.”

The air grew slightly heavier.

“So yes,” Vivian continued, “I feel dread toward him.”

His face remained blank.

“After living alone for so long… I have finally found something warm.”

Another pause.

“So I fear… that he will take it away from me.”

Not a single emotion appeared on his face.

“But I will not give it up.”

His voice lowered slightly.

“Even if I have to master everything… and discard everything…”

“I will reach that level.”

Silence followed.

Then—

“Kekekekekekek—!”

The clown burst into laughter.

“Arrogant!” he said, pointing at Vivian. “You think mastering emotions means throwing them away?”

He shook his head, still laughing.

“That is no mastery. That is just cutting off your own feet with an axe.”

He wiped his eye, still smiling.

“But anyway…”

He waved his hand.

“Let’s move to the next question.”

Vivian did not react.

Not even to those words.

His mind remained steady.

He had already understood one thing.

‘You cannot master something without knowing it.’

And he had already felt it all—

Fear. Pain. Loneliness.

He knew them.

So he was not shaken.

The clown tilted his head.

“Second question,” he said.

A small pause.

“Do you think… you can win?”

Vivian looked at the mirror.

Then he gave a small nod.

“Yes,” he said calmly. “I can win.”

The reflection—

Changed.

Its face twisted.

Fear.

Deep fear.

And despair.

Its eyes widened. Its lips trembled.

It looked like someone who had already lost.

“…I see,” Vivian thought.

There was no change on his real face.

‘This is not my emotion.’

He had felt fear before.

Real fear.

This was not it.

This was forced.

Fake.

But—

He did nothing.

Beep!

“You lost one round.”

The clown smiled.

“Now then,” he said, clapping once. “The final question.”

His voice lowered slightly.

“This one decides your life… and your death.”

He stepped closer.

His grin widened.

“Tell me…”

“Do you know why I call you—”

“Heaven’s Child?”

Vivian looked at the mirror.

The moment his gaze met it—

The reflection changed.

Shock.

Pure shock.

Eyes wide.

Mouth slightly open.

Beep!

“Wrong answer!”

The clown burst into loud laughter.

“Kekekekekekek—! It’s over!”

He spread his arms wide.

“Time for your death!”

“Haa…”

A soft sigh escaped Vivian.

Relief.

For the first time.

Then—

He moved.

His teeth gripped the sword.

With a sudden motion, he threw it upward.

Whoosh!

The blade spun into the air.

For a brief second—

Everything slowed.

Then—

Shink!

The sword fell.

Clean.

Precise.

It cut through his neck.

Thud.

His body dropped.

No movement.

No breath.

Silence.

The clown stared.

Then he smiled.

Slowly.

Step.

Step.

Step.

He walked toward the body.

Stopped in front of it.

Tilted his head.

“You died?” he said softly.

Then—

“Hahahahahahah!”

He burst into wild laughter.

“You think I would fall for that?”

His eyes gleamed.

“This is just your copy!”

“That was me.”

A calm voice spoke.

Gentle.

Close.

Too close.

The clown’s eyes widened.

A sword pierced through his chest.

From behind.

Slowly.

Deep.

He froze.

Blood dripped down the blade.

“It’s time I end this,” the voice said quietly.

There was no anger.

No hatred.

Only calm.

The clown looked down at the sword.

Then slightly turned his head.

Behind him—

Vivian stood.

Whole.

Uninjured.

His expression was no longer empty.

It was—

Calm.

Complete.

“I’m expecting a baby in a few months,” Vivian said softly.

“So I don’t have time to play anymore.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep