Among the countless shrinking reflections of myself repeated in the elevator’s opposing mirrors, there was a single anomaly.
The back of me that had beaten me at rock-paper-scissors.
That thing in the mirror stretched out its neck, turned to look at me, and smiled.
Clunk.
The noise of the elevator barely brought me back to my senses.
What I had thrown was rock.
What the thing in the mirror had thrown was… paper.
‘…I lost.’
For now, since I lost, I had to do it again.
Until I won.
[5F]
The elevator was going up.
Note: According to the testimony of most people who performed this ritual, “the me inside the mirror” has an unnaturally high win rate in rock-paper-scissors against itself.
With a trembling hand, I raised my fist toward the mirror again.
“Rock, paper, scissors.”
My back view in the mirror, its head twisted around and smiling, changed its hand however it pleased.
I threw scissors.
The mirror threw rock.
…I lost again.
Clunk.
…The elevator, which had been going up, paused for a moment, then resumed ascending as if nothing had happened.
In reality, that was all.
But in the elevator reflected in the mirror…
At some point, the doors were open just a crack.
Suddenly.
A white hand was sticking out through the gap.
“……”
[7F]
The elevator was going up.
“Rock, paper, scissors.”
It was a tie.
[7F]
‘Just once.’
I only had to win once. Before I reached the twelfth floor, the highest floor in this building…!
“Rock, paper, scissors.”
I threw…