The paint was peeling off the Health Classroom's walls. Every student looked toward the mirror with awe and fear.
Surging malice clothed Ji Zhe in the mirror like a suit woven from the night. He casually loosened his tie, his gaze arrogant, like a god of a new age.
As though he had long grown accustomed to being the center of attention, Ji Zhe gently bit the slender fingers he usually held his pen with. Red pigment dripped down his wrist.
"What is he doing?"
"Is he trying to paint on the mirror?"
"How can he look so handsome in the mirror when it's the exact same face?"
He needed no brush. Ji Zhe in the mirror reached toward its surface, and Blood Threads emerged within it. It was as though he wasn't painting at all, but the paintings were scrambling to take shape in his hands.
Once the Blood Threads traced the teacher's likeness, a pungent stench of decay rose from her body. Her limbs looked as though they were about to fall apart.
The man in the mirror lowered his fingers, and the Blood Threads grew more intricate. One figure after another overlapped the image of the Health Teacher, as though every will and soul that made up her existence had been painted.
With every figure Ji Zhe painted, the aura of death and the stench around the Health Teacher intensified. Ji Zhe in the mirror slowly grew excited, as if he had discovered an interesting toy.
His ten fingers danced as though playing a rhapsody on a dimly lit street. Blood Threads drifted through his eyes as he savagely tore into a beautiful doll.
"Aaah!"
The Health Teacher released her grip in disbelief. She retreated, her jet-black hair falling out, the flesh hidden beneath her clothes loosening