Mireuk raises his palm, shaking his head.

He corrects himself. "Come to think of it, we may be looking at the one person out of two to have come in contact with a Demiurgic Mirror in the last 1,957 years."

"One out of two? What're you onto?" says Shinhak, crossing his arms, frowning. "The mirror tests are scarcely finished."

"They don't need to be," Mireuk chuckles curtly. "The Artifex are wasting their time as usual. I already ran the only test we need, for now."

"Ran your own test? With which instrument?"

"With my own mirror, of course," responds Mireuk rather nonchalantly, taking a bite of the cream-filled rice cakes – mochi, were they?

"Mireuk, you did not just break Precept 8."

"I did. You're not going to tell the hag, are you?"

"All. Of. Seoul. Could. Have. Exploded." Shinhak pronounces, bottling his exasperated indignance.

"That's why I took it to Kyoto."

"Then all of Kyoto could have exploded – are you aware how many of our associates in the US it took to remove the city from Truman's list? And, hold on, this means you moved the mirror across borders!" He chides, his spiky hair seeming to stand on their ends.

"Mmm, quite exquisite. Not a flaw in the bite," Mireuk remarks, pointing to the open box in front of Shinhak. "Come on Shin, don't let yours dry out. It's quite crisp in here. And of course, our guest too. Kang Reza, wasn't it? May I call you Reza?"

I am at a loss for words.

"It's pointless arguing with you. Tell me what you found," mutters Shinhak, palming his face.

"That my mirror cannot shatter hers."

Shinhak instantly looks up, his eyes and brows furrowed in a veiled calm that hides utmost concern. I had no idea what it all meant and what significance his words carried.

"Shin, I think you are better equipped to explain than I do."

"To her? You want to explain it."

"Don't you think she deserves to know?"

"I'm surprised by your humility," sighs Shinhak, turning slightly to face me directly. "Listen up, listen well."

He begins in earnest. "Not all mirrors are made equal, just as nothing in the world is born equal. Some are stronger, loftier, mightier than the others by way of history and craft. As long as mirrors are made by artisans, there are bound to be those produced with different degrees of quality."

I listen on.

"We classify a mirror's quality in terms of its grade. The lowest grade is Blank. The highest grade is Mythical. Those terms give you an intuition, I hope."

I warily nod.

"Blank mirrors, or Blanks, are your ordinary, run-of-the-mill mirrors. Think factories. Glass workshops. Mass produced. Nothing special. Made for only one thing: to accurately reflect that which is shone," Shin explains, upright. Mireuk stifles a yawn.

"Mythical mirrors, or Mythicals, are exactly as the name suggests. They are not crafted by any artisan or Artifex. They are instead crystallized tears, hearts, or eyes of mythical human beings, who made an indelible impression upon the history of the world, each embodying an immortal tenet that can manifest as power bordering on the divine. They are not in any regular shape that you expect. Most are in the form of reflective jewels. Only eleven exist in our world. Of that, four are lost for a remainder of seven."

"...You're not going to tell her?" whispers Mireuk, raising his eyebrow.

"I'm not like you," Shinhak replies coolly, perhaps a little coldly. Mireuk shrugs and turns to his mochi.

"There are many grades in between. In ascending order from Blank, there is Imbued, Specialized, Superior, Unique, Exalted, and Legendary. A mirror's powers and abilities are tied to what grade it is. The higher the grade, the greater the power and flexibility. Any questions?"

I ponder for a moment, trying to digest the fire-hose of information. I cannot even begin to think of questions to ask, but I reiterate.

"...Okay – so a Blank is the lowest in the rung, and Mythical the highest. Where does Legendary go then?"

"Just below."

"Just below Mythical?"

"Correct."

I purse my lips and nod without a word.

"Now, let's get to the crux," continues Shinhak. "When pitted against one another, a mirror of a lower grade cannot shatter or break a mirror of a higher rank. Doesn't matter the method. Hitting it, hurling it, throwing it, pierce it with ice and fire, all of that doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is the difference in rank. Lower grade mirrors cannot break higher grades."

It was beginning to dawn on me. Shinhak glances at Mireuk; Mireuk glances to shin. They both nod.

"So therein lies our little problem," Shinhak continues. "Mireuk's mirror is a Mythical. But it can't break yours."

A chill runs down my spine from a multitude of thoughts. It casts Mireuk in a different light; and more than that, it casts myself in a different light.

Shinhak takes a long gulp from his steaming cup of Oolong.

"So now, you're probably thinking: that's impossible. Because I said Mythical is the highest grade, and it should be able to break any other mirror. Not to worry, because there's a catch: in a contest between mirrors of the same grade, the mirror with the more skilled wielder can shatter the other."

I narrow my eyes. "But that doesn't remove the problem, does it?"

Mireuk chuckles at Shinhak. "Told you."

Shinhak continues. "Correct. Because you weren't there at the mirror test. Your mirror did not have an active wielder. Therefore, the only interpretation is..." he pauses, tapping Mireuk's knee.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"That yours occupies a grade higher than Mythical."

"And what grade is that?"

"Demiurgic. Made by and belonging to a god, or a group of gods," Mireuk elucidates. "A grade that surpasses the pinnacles of human craft."

"Mirrors that escape our understanding as to its range and potential of powers. Put simply, enigmatic. Enigmatic to the point of almost no records existing at all to help us control them or wield them. And therefore, liable to inverting the rules of this world."

"Less so inverting, more so indicating that our understanding of the universe is incomplete," Mireuk remarks. "Just as an ant wouldn't understand, say, human politics, we humans would have difficulty understanding aspects of reality beyond our experience. That's why any rule we come up with may be subject to revision: nothing is sacred."

The thought gives me pause.

"Before me," I ask, slowly, "there were no appearances of a Demiurgic mirror? Demiurgic mirrors?"

"Not entirely. There have been allusions to their appearances. The most recent is from the time of the Roman Empire. Referenced in a footnote by Pliny the Elder," Shin clarifies.

"The Roman Empire." I reiterate.

"Not familiar?"

"No, I heard it in history class, but..."

"2,000 years ago."

"Ah..." I trail off.

"Even then, his wording is dubious. He may have been speaking something akin to a local myth, even by that time," Mireuk comments casually, blowing the steam away from his tea.

"Then when else... when else did it exist?"

"We have some sparse records going back to the times of Upper and Lower Egypt," Shinhak answers immediately. "The first civilizations. Ancient Sumer. Babylon. Assyria. Scaling back towards 6,000 to 7,000 years ago. The Epics of Vedic India also mention it quite a while after. Those cover it?"

"You forgot one," interjects Mireuk, raising a finger. "The Avestan hymns of ancient Persia reference it too. You know the concept of Heaven and Hell in various religions?"

"Yeah?" I ask.

"Those guys in Persia were probably the first to come up with the concept. Zarathustra, if we're picking names. We're really talking that far back, to the nascent formulations of human philosophy and religious thought."

"Ah," I reply, not making sense of the overload of information.

Both of them lean back. It's as if a great tension in the room has risen and fallen in the span of a few sentences. Shinhak takes a bite of his mochi for the first time.

It's my turn to ask.

"So, if my mirror – a Demiurgic ­one – is a grade higher than Mythical, its powers are also that much greater?"

"Indeed," replies Shinhak.

"And I was able to... wield it, and not die. That's what makes me a threat?"

"Yes. You are a Demiurge-Grade threat. Rogue. Born out of and not within our organization. To say the least, the higher-ups will know in a few hours when the Artifex finish their tests. All of them will want you executed immediately." Shinhak bluntly states.

"How are the other people then? The – the people who use a cursed mirror by accident like me and end up dying? How do their mirrors rank?"

"Most Imbued. Sometimes Specialized. Rarely Superior. Maximum limit, Unique. In case of regular civilians using a Unique mirror, most of their bodies end up looking like Swiss cheese after. The exceptional few that aren't are all built like tanks." Mireuk adds.

None of us say anything for a while. Clouds of thought pass over my head.

"So... what are you?" Mireuk questions, breaking the silence. He leans forward, one eye sparkling in the dark, the other covered by his eyepatch. "A god, a monster, or a friend?"

There is a fierce intelligence behind that radiant, amethyst gaze. A cold, analytical intelligence as deep and discerning as Shinhak's luminous blue.

A god, a monster, or a friend?

I cannot answer. The emotions, the rage that gripped me while I was underground at the lair of the Jopok were... lit ablaze by my own, but not entirely mine. Back then, I saw images of something more than just the memories of people my mirror devoured. Memories of an ancient world. If indeed what these two men in front of me say are true – then I might have a literal god as my patron, and if so, I am a monster with my powers compared to ordinary people. But how in the world did any of this make any sort of sense?

"Which finally returns us to the elephant in the room," Shinhak declares, clearing his throat. "That you are the source of the Vulture guemul that appeared on Seoh-go 1st street."

"Guemul? Monster? The demon?"

"That's our official terminology."

"Why me? Why lay the blame on me? You think my mirror made that thing?"

"Yes."

"But you literally just said that no one knows what my mirror can do. That means you accusing me is just based off a hunch," I retort.

"Not at all. I don't make accusations lightly. The otherworldly injuries you inflicted upon a hundred Jopok tell otherwise. They in fact look quite familiar to us in our line of work. Tell me: describe the process of using the mirror."

"I usually have it on my left forearm and..." I pause, reluctant. I didn't have much choice in withholding information. "I turn it so I can see the reflection of whoever I am fighting. Then I... use my fist or fingers, smash the reflections, or cut them. The people I'm fighting are smashed or cut too."

"Tell me the process between the moment you connect your fist and the moment your targets are subject to your mirror's effects."

"In-between?"

Shinhak nods once.

"They... something... it appears to my eyes as if something invisible hits them, and if I'm punching them, they just explode..."

"Have you ever punched them sideways?"

"Sideways? Yeah...?"

"Tell me the visuals," Shinhak commands. Mireuk glances briefly, sipping his tea.

"Well I," I stammer, "it looks like something smashes them sideways in that case, and hurls them somewhere."

"And when you scratch and slash them?"

"Gashes appear, as if something clawed them."

"Almost as if something is slashing them in real life, isn't it? It's just that neither you nor they can see." Shinhak says.

Understanding trickles into my consciousness.

"Now, tell me when you fought the vulture guemul. Was it visible to you?"

"No. At least not initially," I answer.

"Not initially?"

"I just heard and saw this... invisible menace eating up the police officers, killing them, destroying the buildings..."

"So how did you manage to see it, fight it?"

"I looked in my mirror."

Shinhak and Mireuk exchange a brief glance. Shinhak continues without giving me rest.

"You saw the vulture guemul in your mirror?"

"Yeah."

"Tell me, when you were using your mirror at the Jopok, did you ever look into it in detail as you punched or slashed?"

"No," I reply curtly. But I elaborate. "I mean, I couldn't, because my fist and fingers were always blocking the surface of the mirror, and I was occupied with not dying, so –"

"Your slashes and punches, just like the Guemul, are invisible in our waking world. But just like the Guemul, they're likely to be visible within the reflected world. You just couldn't see your own attacks in your mirror because your fist or fingers were blocking your view."

Oh, shit... I was beginning to understand.

"Given that they share the same traits, what I fear is that everytime you use your mirror, it manifests a guemul of its own in reality. That it brings monsters into our waking world."

Vertigo arrests my head as my heart drops a beat.

"And if you use your mirror frequently, the guemuls that crawl out of your mirror end up coalescing into a bigger, larger being. The vulture guemul that you fought. I highly suspect that it is of your own making."

My mouth runs dry; I swallow painfully.

"That is my analysis. Any rebuttals?" concludes Shinhak, glancing at his sunglasses on the table.

I cannot think of any.