Fred landed hard on the floor, which felt surprisingly solid beneath his feet. With a quiet groan, he pulled himself upright and rubbed his aching back.
“At least the labyrinth is consistent — when it comes to ruining my day,” he muttered as he looked around.
The room he found himself in was completely different from anything he had seen so far. The walls were covered with mirrors stretching from floor to ceiling, and in every single one, Fred could see his own reflection — except that every reflection distorted him in a different way. Sometimes he was younger, sometimes older, sometimes thinner, and sometimes... considerably rounder. One reflection even seemed to play with his facial features, as though it had decided to turn Fred into an absurd caricature.
“A hall of mirrors? What's next, a carnival with a haunted house?”
Fred took a step forward, and the reflections moved in perfect synchronization with him, as though they wanted to make absolutely certain that he remained aware of their constant presence.
“What a joy,” Fred thought dryly. “Not only am I lost in here, now I have to keep staring at myself, too.”
Fred continued walking, trying not to pay attention to the mirrors, but that was easier said than done. Some of the reflections behaved strangely independently of him. One reflection waved playfully at him, while another pulled a face that Fred was certain he had never made.
“Are you making fun of me?” Fred asked aloud, as though he actually expected an answer.
He stopped in front of a mirror where his reflection stared back at him with a grim expression — the personification of bad humor on a rainy Monday morning.
“Wonderful. There's my Monday version,” Fred remarked dryly. “And it's not even Monday.”
He turned toward another mirror, and there he saw himself as a child, his eyes wide open, his expression somewhere between curiosity and fear.
“It's been a long time,” Fred murmured, shaking his head. “At least there isn't quite as much fear anymore... right?”
A faint whisper began to fill the room, barely audible at first, like a breath slipping through the mirrors. Fred froze.
The voices seemed to come from the mirrors, a strange mixture of his own voice and a foreign, almost ethereal presence.
“Why are you here, Fred Müller? What are you really looking for?”
Fred spun around and saw that all the reflections were now staring directly at him — a sight that made him considerably more uncomfortable than he wanted to admit.
“I... don't know!” he shouted.
But the mirrors were not impressed. The whispering grew louder, gathering into a chorus that filled the room and caused Fred's head to ache beneath the crushing echo.
“All right, all right!” Fred shouted, raising his hands defensively as though that might somehow help.
“Maybe I'm looking for an exit, okay? Or a cappuccino and a slice of cake! What do I know?”
The voices fell silent abruptly, as though they had heard enough. The reflections flickered until they appeared normal again — or at least somewhat normal.
Fred took a deep breath, lowered himself onto the cold floor, and leaned against the cool wall behind him.
“This is going well,” he muttered, trying to calm his racing heartbeat.
“So, Fred Müller,” he said to himself. “You're trapped in a labyrinth, you're talking to mirrors, and the only constant companion you have is your own cynicism. If that isn't a sign that you desperately need a vacation, I don't know what is.”
After he had collected himself, Fred stood up again and looked around. The mirrors now seemed less threatening, more like curious observers. He stepped closer to one of them and looked inside, but this time, only his familiar face stared back at him.
“You know what the problem is?” Fred said to his reflection. “I don't even know if I want to go home anymore, or if I just... I don't know... need a giant ice cream.”
His reflection gave him a crooked grin.
“But one thing is certain: whatever happens here, it won't be boring.”
Suddenly, one of the doors on the opposite wall swung open with a loud creak. Fred spun around and stared into the dark corridor beyond it.
“Wonderful,” he sighed. “I was hoping to get at least a moment of peace.”
But before he could make his way toward it, he heard a quiet but unmistakable sound behind him.
He slowly turned around and noticed that one of the reflections — the grim-faced one — was behaving differently from the others.
It moved independently of Fred, stepped forward, and suddenly disappeared from the mirror as though it had dissolved into thin air.
Fred stared at the empty mirror for a moment. It now showed nothing but the room behind him.
A strange tingling sensation ran down the back of his neck. But then he shook his head, put on a determined grin — more out of defiance than conviction — and headed toward the door.
“All right, labyrinth. Show me what else you've got.”
With one final, almost challenging glance at the mirrors, Fred stepped through the door, ready to face whatever challenges awaited him.