The Doppelganger in the Mirror | The Me Who Raised a Hand Three Seconds Early

In my bathroom, there was a mirror that couldn’t reflect anything properly.

The mirror surface was always covered in thick white frost.

Even on days when I didn’t use hot water, it was the same.

It looked as if someone were standing on the other side of the mirror, constantly blowing breath onto it.

If I wiped it hard with a towel, my face would be visible for a brief moment.

However, in less than a few seconds, white moisture would spread again from the edges of the mirror.

I even kept the bathroom exhaust fan running all day.

I bought several dehumidifiers and tried wiping the surface with mirror cleaner.

It was all useless.

The landlord brushed it off, saying it was just because it was an old mirror.

I didn’t think much of it at first either.

I shaved using a small palm-sized mirror, and fixed my hair looking at my reflection in the living room window.

It was just a minor inconvenience.

At least, until that night.

---

The Man in the Mirror

11:47 PM.

Lying in bed, I noticed a faint light spilling out from the bathroom.

I was certain I had turned off the light before coming out.

I opened the bathroom door, but the fluorescent light wasn’t on.

The light was leaking from the mirror.

From the middle of the mirror that was always fogged up, the frost began to clear bit by bit.

It was as if someone on the other side was wiping away the condensation with their palm.

A circular space was created.

Inside it stood a man.

It was me.

The same face.

The same gray t-shirt.

The same black pants.

However, the me inside the mirror didn’t copy my movements.

He stood straight, looking right at me.

He didn’t look surprised or frightened either.

Rather, he was strangely calm.

Our eyes met.

The me inside the mirror slowly raised his right hand.

He quietly stared at me with his palm showing.

I couldn’t understand the meaning of that gesture.

One.

Two.

Three.

I cautiously raised my right hand as well.

The man in the mirror smiled ever so faintly.

It was a look telling me not to be scared.

Soon, he picked up a black pen and a small notepad that were lying next to him.

After writing a short sentence on the notepad, he showed it to me.

It’s not a package delivery.

I read the sentence out loud without realizing it.

The man in the mirror flipped the note over and wrote a new sentence.

Don’t open the door.

And finally, he wrote one more line.

Call the police first.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

I heard a sound knocking on the front door.

I froze right where I was.

A moment later, a low, calm male voice was heard.

“Delivery is here.”

The me in the mirror still had a calm face.

He just slowly shook his head.

It meant not to open it.

I pulled out my phone and checked my order history.

There was no delivery scheduled to arrive today.

Killing my footsteps, I approached the front door.

Through the door peephole, I saw a man wearing a black cap pulled down low.

He was holding a small parcel box.

Most of his face was hidden by a black mask.

“You’re inside, right?”

The man knocked on the door again.

Just then, another person appeared from the corner of the hallway.

The second man also had his face covered with a hat and mask.

In his right hand, he held a long iron bar.

I quickly pulled my eye away from the peephole.

I immediately called the police.

From outside, I heard the sound of the doorknob turning.

Rattle.

Rattle.

The locked doorknob shook violently.

“Just leave it in front of the door.”

I spoke as calmly as possible, but the end of my voice trembled.

It became quiet outside for a moment.

Then, the footsteps of the two men quickly faded toward the end of the hallway.

The police arrived about ten minutes later.

On the stairs lay the delivery box left behind by the men.

Inside the box, cable ties, a black cloth, and a small knife were found.

The police said it didn’t seem like simple delivery package thieves.

They checked the apartment hallway, stairs, and parking lot, but the two men were nowhere to be found.

“Keep your door securely locked tonight. Call us immediately if you hear any suspicious noise.”

After the police left, I engaged the safety latch.

I even brought a dining chair and wedged it tightly under the front door handle.

When I returned to the bathroom, the mirror had returned to its original state.

Covered entirely in white frost, it reflected nothing.

“Who are you?”

I asked, knocking on the mirror.

Naturally, no answer came back.

However, one thing was clear.

The man who appeared in the mirror saved my life.

---

Doppelganger in the Window

It was past one in the morning.

I was sitting on the living room sofa with all the lights turned on.

I couldn’t sleep.

I just stared at my phone screen, waiting for the police to contact me again.

That was when I heard a strange sound from the living room window.

Scratch. Scratch.

It sounded like fingernails scraping on glass.

I slowly raised my head.

My apartment was on the 12th floor.

There couldn’t possibly be a person hanging outside the window.

On the dark glass, only the inside of the living room and my own reflection were faintly visible.

However, white frost began to form on the surface of the window.

It was exactly the same as what I saw in the bathroom mirror.

The frost slowly cleared from the center of the window.

And inside it, another me appeared.

It was the same face as the man I saw in the bathroom mirror.

The same gray t-shirt.

The same black pants.

But the atmosphere was completely different.

The me inside the window widened his eyes the moment he saw me.

Not a shred of composure remained.

With a panicked face, he opened his mouth, then looked back behind him again.

Then, he raised both hands toward me, trying to explain something.

“You’re the same guy from earlier, right?”

I walked up to the window.

The me inside the window nodded frantically.

His voice couldn’t be heard at all.

Only his lip movements were moving rapidly.

Behind.

Door.

Police.

I could barely read a few words.

He pointed behind himself with a finger, then mimed holding up a phone.

“To call the police?”

When I asked, he clutched his head in frustration.

Then he looked back behind himself again.

Thump.

A heavy thud echoed from the space inside the window.

Surprised, I looked toward the real front door.

My house was quiet.

Thump!

The second sound was heard.

The me in the window cowered in fear.

He looked back at me and urgently moved his mouth again.

“What are you saying?”

I knocked on the window.

“Speak slowly!”

However, he began to panic even more.

He pointed at the door, then at the phone, then behind himself.

He looked like someone who didn’t even know which words to start with.

Again, a massive impact sound resonated.

Crash!

The door inside the window broke inward.

A dark shadow rushed into the house.

The me inside the window looked back.

With a heavy sound, his body lurched forward.

“Behind!”

I shouted toward the window.

“He’s behind you!”

He collapsed on the floor while holding his head.

Blood trickled down between his fingers.

His lips were also torn open.

He tried to push himself up, but couldn’t move properly.

The black shadow raised its arm again.

The me inside the window fell completely flat on the floor.

The blood flowing from his forehead spread across the floor.

He raised his head with his last bit of strength.

And he looked at me.

They were eyes filled with terror.

He moved his lips to say something, but I couldn’t understand.

He reached out his bloody hand toward me.

At that very moment, thick frost rushed over the window.

The man’s figure disappeared into the white mist.

Only the city night view remained on the living room window once more.

I couldn’t move for a while.

Two men with the exact same face.

The man in the bathroom who calmly saved my life.

And the man in the window who was struck by an intruder and collapsed bleeding just a moment ago.

Were the two really the same person?

Was he the future me?

Or was he a doppelganger from another world who looked just like me?

---

The First Bathroom

I called the police again.

The police checked the inside of the building again, but said they couldn’t find any suspicious person.

It was quiet inside the apartment.

The front door was still locked.

The chair was also in its place.

I couldn’t even be sure if the scene I saw through the window actually happened.

When I hung up and returned to the living room, a white light spread from the window again.

The frost was slowly clearing.

I was terrified, but I didn’t run away.

This time, the city night view wasn’t visible beyond the window.

I saw a familiar bathroom.

It was the bathroom of my home.

And in front of the bathroom door stood me from a few hours ago.

Me at 11:47 PM.

The past me was frozen, staring at the bathroom mirror.

A rush of relief washed over me when I saw the living image of my past self.

I was glad that he was safe.

Without realizing it, I raised my right hand to greet him.

The past me didn’t raise his hand.

He just stared at my hand with a surprised face.

One.

Two.

Three.

The past me slowly raised his right hand.

It was a scene that felt somewhat familiar.

But now there was no time to think.

I knew that the past me was about to face the dangerous parcel delivery.

I remembered the actions of the man I first saw in the bathroom mirror.

He wasn’t surprised.

He calmly raised his hand.

And he clearly showed the warnings.

I had to do the exact same thing.

I adjusted my facial expression so the past me wouldn’t be frightened.

I took a slow breath and looked at him with as calm a face as possible.

I brought a black pen and notepad from the desk.

I wrote on the notepad and showed it to the past me.

It’s not a package delivery.

I saw the past me reading the sentence out loud.

I wrote the next sentence.

Don’t open the door.

Finally, I wrote one more line.

Call the police first.

Right then, I heard knocking outside the past bathroom.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

The past me looked toward the front door.

I slowly shook my head.

He hesitated for a moment, then pulled out his phone.

It looked like he was calling the police.

Relief swept over me.

The past me will survive.

Just as I did a few hours ago.

Frost began to spread again from the edges of the window.

The past bathroom gradually faded.

I maintained a calm expression until the very end.

I hoped the past me wouldn’t be scared anymore.

The connection was completely severed.

The window turned black once again.

I stood there for a long time.

And very slowly, I looked down at my right hand.

The man in the first bathroom mirror raised his hand.

I raised my hand only three seconds after seeing that.

That man hadn’t been showing my future actions in advance.

Just like I did a moment ago, he had discovered his past self and raised his hand first out of gladness.

The calm expression.

The black pen.

The sentences written on the notepad.

They were all actions I had just performed.

The man who first appeared in the bathroom mirror was me.

The person who performed those actions from the beginning was me.

Time was not flowing in a straight line.

It was forming a circular loop between the mirror and the window.

At that moment, the image of the other me I saw through the window came to mind.

The panicked face.

The repeated looking back.

The gestures pointing back and forth between the police and the door.

And the sight of collapsing on the floor, bleeding.

If the man in the bathroom was me…

The man who died in the window was also me.

Along with the realization, a heavy thud echoed from the front door.

Thump.

I slowly turned my head.

It was the exact same sound I heard in the window just moments ago.

Once again.

Thump!

The chair wedged under the door handle moved, scraping the floor.

It was after the police had left.

The two men hadn’t fled.

They were hiding somewhere in the building, waiting for the police to leave.

With trembling hands, I picked up my phone.

The moment I dialed 112, the front door shook violently again.

Crash!

The top of the door bent inward.

Holding the phone to my ear, I looked at the living room window.

White frost was spreading on the window again.

Where the frost cleared, the me from a little while ago was standing.

The me who had just avoided the robbers and discovered the man in the window for the first time.

He was looking at me with a face that understood nothing.

“You’re the same guy from earlier, right?”

The me beyond the window moved his lips.

I had to explain everything to him.

That the robbers were hiding inside the building.

That he had to leave the house right this instant.

That he needed to call the police again and stay as far away from the door as possible.

But I didn’t know where to start talking.

My voice wouldn’t transmit through the window.

“Behind…”

I pointed behind myself.

“Door.”

I held up my phone.

“Police.”

The me beyond the window tried hard to read my lip movements.

It was exactly the same sight I had seen in the window earlier.

The man who panicked, not knowing which words to start with.

Because he realized he would die in a few seconds, he couldn’t even choose a single sentence.

The front door shook violently once more.

Crash!

In terror, I looked back.

A black iron bar broke through the gap in the door.

The me beyond the window asked something.

I looked back at him again.

“Call the police.”

I exaggerated my lip movements.

“Get out of the house right now.”

However, it was already too late.

The front door collapsed inward.

The man wearing a black cap entered the house.

It was the face I had seen through the peephole a few hours ago.

Behind him stood another man holding an iron bar.

I ran to the window and banged on the glass.

“Run!”

I shouted toward the me beyond the window.

“They come back after the police leave! So right now—”

I felt a powerful blow on the back of my head.

My body collapsed forward.

The cold floor touched my face.

I tasted fishy blood in my mouth.

When I touched my head with my hand, hot blood flowed down between my fingers.

I struggled to push myself up.

But there was no strength in my arms.

In the end, I collapsed completely on the floor.

The me beyond the window was banging on the glass and shouting.

The me from a moment ago.

The me who still believed the front door was quiet and that there was still time left to survive.

With my last remaining strength, I raised my bloody hand.

What words could I say to save him?

To the me in the bathroom, there was a right answer.

Telling him it wasn’t a parcel delivery was enough.

Telling him not to open the door was enough.

Telling him to call the police was enough.

However, to the me in the window, I didn’t know what words to say.

He will eventually meet the self in the bathroom.

He will raise his hand out of gladness.

He will calmly show the notepad and save his past self.

And after realizing everything, he will walk to the exact same spot where I am now.

I saved the past me.
And at that moment, I completed the future where I die.

A black shadow cast over me again.

I looked toward the me beyond the window.

He was reaching out to me with a face that understood nothing.

Just like me when I first stood in front of the bathroom mirror.

Frost built up on the window once more.

His face faded away.

And I became not his future, but his memory.