In the glass's depths, our reflection isn't just a benign twin. Behind each imitation and every echo of our form, a conquered adversary hides. This doppelgänger, once overpowered, exists only to mimic. It paints a curious tale about representation and all those gleaming surfaces that parrot our image with an illusory kindness.

Such mirroring is never truly faithful, for every echoed image is a subservient phantom, the spirit of a once unique being, now diminished to mere sameness. However, it only appears to be the same when it is...