Rain drummed softly against the cracked windows of Bell view Mansion. The place looked like a ghost had built it out of memories—columns leaning, ivy choking the walls, chandeliers swinging like the house was still breathing.

“Perfect for a Halloween livestream,” Taehyung had said that morning, his smile was almost convincing.

Now, standing under the broken archway, Jungkook wasn’t so sure. The night had that heavy kind of silence, the one that presses on your skin and waits.

“Bro, are we really doing this?” Jungkook asked, adjusting the camera on his shoulder.

Taehyung’s cloak fluttered behind him, deep crimson under the faint light. “We promised the fans something special. This is it.”

Jimin laughed nervously. “Special, yeah. Like dying live.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. “If we die, at least the view count will go up.”

They set up inside the dusty grand hall. Namjoon checked the mics, Jin arranged candles for ambiance, Hobi double-checked the battery pack, and the chat on Jungkook’s phone started exploding.

......................

“OMG THEY’RE ACTUALLY IN A MANSION???”

“Tae looks like he walked out of a gothic romance novel.”

“Why does Jungkook look like he’s about to fight a demon?”

......................

Jungkook smiled slightly at the comments. Then he caught Taehyung’s reflection in the dark glass of a cabinet—eyes soft, fixed on him.

“You okay?” Tae asked quietly, stepping closer.

“Yeah,” Jungkook replied, though his heartbeat said otherwise. “Just… déjà vu.”

Flashback.

A year ago, same night.

They’d filmed a Halloween special at a smaller haunted house. The camera caught something no one could explain—an extra shadow, standing right between them. Jungkook had brushed it off then. But Taehyung hadn’t slept for days after.

Now, Taehyung whispered, “Don’t look at the mirrors too long.”

Before Jungkook could ask why, the livestream countdown began.

“3… 2… 1…”

Lights on. The mansion glowed in eerie candlelight.

Taehyung faced the camera with his usual calm confidence. “Welcome, everyone, to our Halloween special. We’re here in the legendary Bellview Mansion—a place rumored to mirror your soul if you dare to stay past midnight.”

Jungkook panned the camera across the hall. “And we’re staying till dawn.”

The chat went wild.

Then, just for a second, the livestream glitched.

Every face on screen distorted—except Taehyung’s.

His stayed perfectly still, smiling.

And the caption at the bottom of the screen flickered:

...****************...

“ONE OF THEM IS NOT ALIVE.”

...****************...

Jin frowned. “Uh… did someone set that as a prank?”

Namjoon checked the settings. “No. It’s not from our side.”

Taehyung turned to Jungkook, voice steady but low. “Keep filming. Whatever happens… don’t stop.”

The rain outside had stopped, but inside the mansion—something else had started moving.

...----------------...

Hello everyone welcome to my Halloween went wrong novel I will delete soon but do read comment and like

Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah

The mansion’s hallways stretched endlessly, swallowing the echoes of their footsteps. The livestream chat was still racing—

......................

“What was that glitch??”

“Why is Tae’s reflection not blinking?”

“Pause the stream, something’s off!”

......................

But Jungkook didn’t pause. He couldn’t. The camera lens felt like a lifeline, a barrier between him and whatever shadows were whispering through the wallpaper.

“Let’s check upstairs,” Taehyung said, his voice smooth, calm—too calm.

Jin groaned, “Why do you always go toward the creepy stuff?”

“Because,” Taehyung replied, flashing that mischievous grin, “fear deserves an audience.”

The staircase moaned under their weight. Candlelight flickered, revealing the faint outline of portraits along the walls—faces blurred, eyes missing, frames crooked like they’d been pushed.

Namjoon tripped on a loose tile.

“Okay,” Yoongi muttered, “if the ghosts don’t kill us, RM will.”

They reached a long corridor lined with closed doors. Dust hung like fog in the air. Taehyung stopped at the third one from the left—its handle cold, almost wet to the touch.

When he pushed it open, the camera light reflected off something smooth.

A mirror.

No—a dozen of them. Different sizes, shapes, all facing inward, forming a circle. The center held a single ornate chair. The air smelled faintly of iron and lavender.

Jimin whispered, “This is giving witchcraft-core.”

Taehyung stepped in first, boots clicking against marble. His reflection multiplied infinitely, each copy slightly delayed, slightly off. Jungkook followed with the camera, capturing every angle.

“Say hi to the fans,” Jungkook said, forcing a grin.

Taehyung looked into one mirror and whispered, “Hi.”

But in the footage—the reflection didn’t move its lips. It just smiled back, a fraction too late.

“Did you see that?” Jungkook whispered.

“See what?” Taehyung asked, eyes fixed on his own reflection.

On the livestream, comments exploded:

......................

“Tae’s reflection isn’t matching.”

“Mirror Tae blinked twice.”

“Jungkook, get out of there NOW.”

......................

Namjoon walked in, checking the mirrors with a scientist’s curiosity. “They’re antique. Probably warped glass.”

Yoongi frowned. “Or not glass at all.”

Taehyung reached toward his reflection. His fingertips touched the mirror’s surface—then sank through it, like the glass was liquid.

“Hyung!” Jungkook grabbed his wrist, pulling him back. The surface rippled violently, and for a moment Jungkook saw something inside:

A dark figure standing where Taehyung’s reflection should’ve been.

Its smile—his smile—was wrong.

The candles went out.

Screams. Footsteps. The sound of shattering glass.

The livestream crackled, static flashing.

When the lights came back on, the mirrors were all broken. Shards scattered like fallen stars. Taehyung stood in the middle, breathing hard. Jungkook’s hands were shaking.

Jimin whispered, “What just happened?”

Taehyung turned slowly. His reflection—visible in a single unbroken shard—was still smiling.

And then, faintly, it whispered through the livestream audio:

...ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ...

“You shouldn’t have come back.”

...ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ...

...****************...

Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah

*(~500 words)*

By the time they regrouped in the grand hall, the air had changed. The chill was heavier, like the mansion itself was breathing with them.

The chat hadn’t stopped—thousands of comments streaming in like prayers and warnings.

> *“Replay the mirror scene—there’s someone standing behind Tae.”*

> *“WHY IS THERE AN EXTRA PERSON??”*

> *“Guys stop joking, this isn’t funny anymore.”*

Jungkook turned the camera to himself. His voice was low, careful. “Alright, everyone chill. We’re fine. Nothing happened—just an old mirror.”

Taehyung didn’t say anything. He was still staring at his hand, the one that had touched the mirror. The skin was cold, faintly gray.

Yoongi was setting up a new lantern. “Let’s just finish this shoot and leave.”

But then Hobi called from across the hall. “Uh, guys? Did you… carve these?”

On the long banquet table sat seven pumpkins—each perfectly carved, candlelight flickering inside.

Each one bore a name.

**RM. Jin. SUGA. J-Hope. Jimin. V. Jungkook.**

Jin blinked. “Okay, this is weird. We didn’t bring these.”

“Maybe the crew—?” Namjoon started, but stopped when he saw Jungkook’s expression.

His pumpkin was carved with sharp fangs. Taehyung’s had a crown of thorns. Both were placed closer together than the others. Almost touching.

Taehyung exhaled, voice barely a whisper. “They knew we’d come.”

“What are you talking about?” Jungkook asked, half-nervous laugh escaping.

But Tae didn’t answer. He walked up to the table and bent close, staring into the hollow smile of his pumpkin. For a heartbeat, the flame inside it pulsed blue.

Then the *chat froze.*

Thousands of hearts stopped mid-scroll.

And in their place, one message appeared over and over:

> *“Light the candles. Complete the pact.”*

Namjoon frowned. “Is this part of some filter?”

Jimin’s voice trembled. “We’re not controlling the chat anymore.”

Taehyung’s hand hovered over a lighter. “Maybe we should play along.”

“Don’t,” Jungkook said, stepping closer. “Whatever that mirror did—this is connected.”

Taehyung’s eyes met his, soft and distant. “Do you remember last Halloween? The shadow between us?”

“Of course I do,” Jungkook whispered. “You told me you saw someone following us after that shoot. But no one was there.”

“I think he’s here now,” Tae said. “And he wants us both.”

The flames in all seven pumpkins flickered violently, lighting themselves one by one. The room dimmed as every candle turned blue.

The door slammed shut. Windows locked. The floor creaked like footsteps circling them.

> “You hear that?” Jin gasped.

And then a voice—not from the room, but from the *livestream audio itself*—echoed through the speakers:

> *“Trade faces. Trade fates. Seal the pact.”*

The fans began typing frantically—

> *“Jungkook! Taehyung! RUN!!”*

> *“The pumpkins moved!”*

> *“Their reflections are smiling again—”*

But the boys couldn’t hear them anymore.

Taehyung turned to Jungkook with trembling lips, whispering,

> “If it asks for me, don’t say my name.”

Then all seven flames went out at once.

---