The Mirror Corridors were sealed from the academy; when you enter them, it's like entering a different dimension—nobody knows where it comes from or what its purpose is; it just exists. Even in the novel it was one of the biggest mysteries; readers made a ton of different theories about it.
You can only rent a mirror room at a really high price, which was out of budget for most Novices. So, only the thing of real importance that matters took place in the mirror room.
Eric sent them room no. 7 and its password " I need the help of Eric, the wisest student in the academy."
Clayton arrived first. His footsteps echoed lightly across the marble floor as a hundred versions of himself mirrored back at him—head tilted, eyes watchful.
He hated this room.
He hated how it looked like you belonged everywhere while making you feel like you didn't belong anywhere.
He had to speak the embarrassing password to enter the room
A few moments later, the glass shimmered again.
Asher strode in, coat crisp, expression unreadable. "You're early."
"I thought you'd be earlier."
"Tch," Asher smirked. "I'm punctual. You're paranoid."
"I call it responsible time management."
A dry chuckle echoed through the glass. "Let me guess. You still haven't tried the card."
"No. You?"
"Of course not." Then, with a slight tilt of his head, "Still watching you."
Before Clayton could reply, the mirrored doorway rippled again, and Eric Ashford stepped through. Shint silver hair, blue sigil-threaded cuffs, and that effortlessly diplomatic smile plastered across his face like it had been painted by a committee.
"Gentlemen," Eric greeted smoothly. "Glad to see both of you didn't chicken out."
"Sorry," Clayton said. "Didn't realize we were expected to bring feathers."
"And what's with the stupid password?" Asher added.
Eric snorted, then held up his hands. "Alright, fair. I deserve that, but "password" is just a factual statement. And now that we're here, let's talk about why."
He pulled something from his coat—a folded note sealed with an unusual mark. A broken sun, etched in faint green wax.
"I've seen this symbol twice in the last week," Eric said. "Once on the package that brought your Mirage Cascade. Once outside Instructor Marvin's office."
Asher's eyes narrowed. "Instructor Marvin?"
Clayton raised a hand. "Okay, not to be dumb, but... who's Marvin?"
Eric raised a brow. "You really don't know?"
"He only joined the electives last week," Asher said. "Hasn't interacted with Adept tiers yet."
Eric nodded. "Right. Instructor Marvin teaches a niche elective—Applied Arcane Misdirection. Tied loosely to the Rose Pact but doesn't claim allegiance. He's low-profile. But his name appears in faculty registries going back five years."
"So?" Clayton asked.
"So," Eric said, his voice dropping slightly, "he's not just another illusionist. He's one of the few instructors who never filed a deck audit. He's skipped the last three faculty rotation councils. And his attendance at staff briefings is always marked as 'proxy-submitted.'"
Clayton blinked. "That sounds... sketchy."
"That sounds like someone hiding in plain sight," Asher added.
"But wait," Clayton said. "Instructor? Junior professor? What are the ranks, actually?"
Asher folded his arms and began listing off.
"There are three tiers of educators in the Academy," he said. "First are the Professors—department heads and true rankers. Like Professor Reese, who's probably a Grandmaster or above. They're in charge of course policy, dueling protocols, and Arcane Ethics."
"Okay," Clayton said, "Reese is terrifying; makes sense."
"Second are Junior Professors—generally Masters who handle general education. They teach compulsory courses, run major exams, and are assigned to a dormitory block."
"Like Professor Elric?"
"Exactly."
"And finally," Asher concluded, "there are Instructors. Usually Adepts or former Academy graduates who return to teach electives. They don't have full staff privileges, but they do get leeway over what they teach and how they teach it."
"And Marvin?" Clayton asked.
Eric stepped closer, his reflection fracturing across the mirrored wall. "He's the kind of instructor whose syllabus changes every semester, whose lesson logs are vague, and whose students always either drop the class or walk away... altered."
Clayton tensed. "Altered how?"
Eric gave a shrug, but his voice was unusually flat. "More loyal. More confused. More paranoid. Take your pick."
Asher's eyes flashed. "So you're saying he's manipulating students with unfiltered illusion cards?"
"I'm saying," Eric replied, "that this symbol"—he tapped the wax seal—"isn't on any faction registry, and it shows up on packages tied to rare illusion cards. Marvin's the only common link I've found so far."
Clayton frowned. "Why would an instructor distribute uncleansed cards? Even if he's rogue, someone would notice eventually."
"Not if it's targeted," Eric said. "Small batches. Select students. No public duels."
"And you're sure about the symbol?"
Eric pulled out a sketch—a rough copy of the seal, now drawn in silver ink. "It's not just aesthetic. Look at the negative space between the rays."
Clayton leaned in, squinting.
There it was—very faint, but unmistakable. A weave pattern. Subtle, but identical to the border frame of Mirage Cascade.
"It's the same artisan," Asher whispered.
"Or the same enchanter," Eric added. "Which means the cards weren't just created together. They were commissioned by a single source."
A beat of silence passed between them.
Clayton finally asked, "So what's our next move?"
Eric stepped back from the mirror, the flickering glass catching a faint glint in his eyes.
"We infiltrate the elective."
"What?"
"I've already registered," Eric said calmly. "But Marvin only takes six students per term. You two will need to trade into the class using token swaps or elective slips."
"I thought you said it was dangerous," Clayton said.
Eric grinned. "It is. But you wanted answers, didn't you?"
Asher gave a reluctant nod. "If we get close, we'll have access to his movements, his rune logs, maybe even the distribution records."
"I can forge the token slips," Eric said. "Just don't ask how I got them."
Clayton sighed. "This is a terrible idea."
"Most investigations are," Eric replied cheerfully. "But I like terrible ideas. They make people honest."
"Oh and before we leave, I have to tell you, I put the room rent on Clayton's tab and the academy even accepted it. guess you really are rich."
"Sensible," Asher added.
"But why? we all used the room; we should split it." Clayton asked,
"You are the richest here; just pay it." They both said it like that's the end of the matter.
Clayton heaved a sigh and accepted this.
As the glass shimmered around them, the weight of their decision settled in.
One rogue instructor. Three illusion cards. And a storm of unanswered questions.
But they were no longer just reacting.
They were planning.
And the Mirror Room, cold and silent as it was, had become their war table.