“In the dark, you can’t see the eyes. And you won't know the color of the skin. You won’t hear the voice until someone speaks. As long as you’re alive and nothing happens, you can't tell what kind of person is standing in front of you. If you’re not alone in the dark. Life is the same. You learn nothing about a person until you see them in the light and feel them in the dark. You assess them when you notice the consequences. After a minute and after decades of knowing them. People are an unpredictable risk.”

“Doesn’t it matter how a person acts with everyone else around them, and not just with me? I’m not alone in the world.”

“It matters. To them. Not to you. The main thing is how they treat you personally. I doubt a person would cut down a favorite tree just because they don't like all the other trees. Everyone has favorites among the majority, which means nothing to them, and is sometimes even dangerous,” the man with rich life experience warns.

“Why a tree, specifically? Couldn't you find another example? Like a killer.”

“Delpha, you show a suspicious interest in such things.”

“But what should I do if it interests me more than anything else in the world?”

“Do what you like and what interests you. But there’s always one ‘but.’”

“What is it?” the girl noticeably brightens at the topic.

“If you know exactly what you want to do, decide how far you are willing to go for it.”

“I want to be the best killer in the world,” Delpha states her decision confidently.

“You want to become a professional assassin?” the man clarifies.

“I always hid it. Now I can say it. Yes, I want to become a master of murder.”

“Then you’ll have to reach a level where people die at the mere mention of your name. The phrase: ‘Delpha is hunting you’ must pierce the victim's heart right through and drain all the blood through their last look at the world.”

“I want that! Mr. Litt, how do I learn to kill with a name?” Delpha looks questioningly at the teacher near her bed.

“It's simpler than it seems,” Mr. Litt smiles. “Don’t chase quantity. Bet on quality. Treat the job with respect and love. See the beautiful in it. Every murder must become the personal masterpiece of the best artist. You must become the genius of murder.”

“There’s something beautiful in murder?” the girl wonders.

“If there isn’t, why are you interested in this line of work?” the teacher smirks.

“It’s interesting how easily life leaves the body. You see a person with their own story, plans, and hopes. In a single moment, the personality turns into a collection of organs that can save many lives. The price of saving ten lives equals one, divided among the rest. Sacrifice one for ten. That’s right, generous, and logical,” Delpha muses seriously.

“You have an interesting perspective on such things,” the teacher observes, adjusting the blanket. “I hadn’t thought about that. You strive not to kill, but to save? Do I understand correctly?”

“Of course!” the girl sits up on her pillow. “But I’ll go further. I will save not tens, but hundreds, perhaps thousands of lives.”

“Further?” Mr. Litt asks with a smile. “How much further can you go? Thousands? How? Will you share your thoughts?”

“It's simple. Killing one person only provides a few organs to save others. But if we kill assassins and the heads of criminal organizations, we will not only get organs, but also save potential victims,” the girl's eyes mist over with the idea.

“Wait, then why take the organs?” the teacher ponders.

“The irony,” Delpha smirks. “The organs of killers will save the lives they used to take.”

“Exalted and cruel,” Mr. Litt laughs. “How do you plan to retrieve the bodies? Serious people have good security. You can’t imagine how good. The smart person preemptively strikes. You hunt, but they kill you. Some are lucky enough to be one step ahead. There are professionals, too. Don't forget, a killer can become a victim at any moment.”

“I’ll figure it out. Dead people don’t run away,” Delpha turns her gaze to the window, her eyes full of offended anger. She doesn’t want to upset her teacher. “It’s better to hunt until the last moment than to live your whole life as a victim waiting for the hunter.”

“Good. Think through your idea one more time. And I’m going to class. You know our guys. If you’re a minute late, you won’t be able to gather everyone afterwards. Rest, get well,” the teacher adjusts the edge of the blanket and leaves the small room with a farewell smile. Delpha still hasn’t turned her gaze from the window.

“Mr. Litt!” the girl stops him without turning around. “How many people would you like to save?”

“Not a single one,” the teacher replies coldly, leaving Delpha alone with her thoughts.

“Not a single one,” she whispers, looking out the window. “Then you live your whole life only for yourself. Why is our teacher such an egoist? He works with children his whole life. Does he really see enemies of humanity in everyone? He would gladly send any of us to our death. And he wouldn’t look back at us. And he would allow me to be killed?”

 

“No time to look out the window!” Delpha leaps out of bed. “It’s time to become the best! Not quantity, but quality! My name will kill and save at the same time!”

“Is it worth spending your whole life on this? Your personal sacrifice in the name of saving thousands of people?”

“Have you been sitting outside the window listening the whole time?” the girl throws a pillow at her boyfriend, who is standing on the ledge left from the balcony. It would be better to demolish the entire dilapidated dormitory and build a new one.

“What else could I do? I climbed up to you, wanted to get through the window, and then Mr. Litt was here,” the romantic defends himself.

“Adam! How many times do I have to tell you? This is serious and dangerous! You could fall at any second,” Delpha complains. “Is our meeting worth your life?”

“It is!” he declares seriously, hugging the girl who struggles against him. “You’ve decided to kill, putting yourself in the line of fire. I just climbed a pipe and came through the window. Do you feel the subtle difference?”

“You need to go to class! Catch up with Mr. Litt. You have to make it. Your education is more important to you than wasting time on me.”

“Nothing is more important than you! And you should definitely get this nonsense about hunting out of your head. Let's go to class. How long can you pretend to be sick? You could have such a future, and you want to throw it all away to kill?” Adam argues directly.

“Not kill, but save. Go! I don’t want to see you!” she pushes the guy out of the room.

“Are we breaking up?” he holds the door with one hand and takes the girl’s hand with the other.

“What? What are you talking about?” Delpha pulls her hand away, trying to close the door.

“And you don't understand?” Adam forcefully maintains eye contact. “With this decision, you are giving up a normal life. You won't be able to be normal among normal people anymore,” he explains a perspective Delpha hasn't had time to consider.

“I understand perfectly!” she sprays pepper spray into her ex-boyfriend’s eyes. She abruptly closes the door. She runs to open the windows wide, airing out the gas.

“Are you pleased with yourself?” she looks angrily at her reflection in the mirror. “You’re crying, your eyes are red.”

“It’s the gas! I have nothing better to do than cry over him! If he doesn’t want to accept my decision, then he doesn't have to! If I want to, I’ll put him up for organs too!” she fills with the anger of misunderstanding. “But he’s right. This is where everything ends,” she thoughtfully wipes her tears with a tissue.

“Then think it over carefully one more time. Don't rush to kill your own life. Who are these people to you? Are they worth it?” the reflection instills new doubts.

“I’m tired of everything! It’s high time to close this chapter in my head!” she throws the damp tissue at the mirror. “Everyone is driving me crazy! Mr. Litt with his studying and not just in class! Adam with his love! He should have understood long ago that I’m not interested in that. Relationships are for the weak!”

“Mr. Litt was preparing you for a different life. He's not to blame for your choice. Notice, he supported it. Remember Adam's feelings. Something like that won't happen again in your life.”

“And it doesn’t have to!” she throws things into her backpack. “I’ve decided! I’m going to do it! Anyone who doesn’t like it can stay in a normal life! But I need to go kill. And save!”

“Have you thought about why Mr. Litt doesn’t want to save anyone? Not even you, his favorite.”

“He doesn’t care. He doesn't need anyone. And that’s right! I don’t need anyone either!”

“Or is it because it’s better not to do it?” the reflection hints seriously.

“Nonsense! If you can save a person, you have to save them. The more, the better.”

“But what if you save ten people by killing one. And then each of them kills ten? Did you think about that? You save ten people unworthy of life, and you kill one hundred and one.”

“Did you just make that up?” she throws a T-shirt at the mirror. “That can't happen. And who decides who is worthy to live and who isn't? I’ll kill them and we’ll see!” Delpha insists.

“As you wish,” the reflection smirks.

“I’m tired of you! Stay here!” she throws a crystal ashtray at the mirror. A web of cracks spreads across the silver surface.

“Such foolishness won't help. Now there are thousands of us. Thousands of you. In every shard is the reflection of the future killer,” the reflection smirks.

“All of you stay in the room. I’m leaving,” Delpha walks out, slamming the door. “How did I even think of spraying gas? My eyes sting,” she whispers, wiping away tears. She rushes toward the staircase. “You’ll all stay here! I’m sick of you!” she kicks the stairwell window with the toe of her boot. Shards fly down onto the teachers’ cars parked below. “I don’t exist! And neither do you!”

“Are you crying?” Mr. Litt peers into Adam’s red eyes as the boy walks past him.

“Got some dust in my eyes,” the boy turns his face away.

“Do you think I don’t know what the aftermath of pepper spray looks like?” the teacher awkwardly suppresses a laugh. “Did you visit Delpha?” he asks more seriously.

“It turned out to be a difficult visit. I don't recognize Delpha. What did you do to her? She’s seriously set on killing. And not just one, but thousands. She's ready to die herself.”

“Who am I to stop dreams from coming true? Especially those that are humanitarian, even if they are terrible. And how did you find out about this? Did Delpha tell you, or were you listening in?” Mr. Litt looks suspiciously at the boy.

“That’s not the point!” Adam evades answering to avoid confessing. “You could have at least cooled Delpha’s fervor and zeal. Didn’t you have any suitable arguments?”

“Forgive me, Adam. I only had suggestions for what to strive for. Delpha is a talented girl; she can do it. Understand this: when you talk someone out of a dream that has captivated them, you automatically become an enemy for life. If you support them, they’ll expect you to join in. They’ll be offended if the support turns out to be just words,” he tries to explain without going into detail. “I limit myself to hints. Then, even if there’s no gratitude, there’s less anger. And then you watch how the person acts as they achieve their goals. When something doesn't work out, they’ll definitely come back for another hint. But if they grow to hate you, you understand, the chances are slimmer. You choose your future relationship.”

“What can I suggest?” Adam wonders. “She knows everything herself. And it’s too late. Delpha already hates me.”

“Well, share your experience. You have enough skills for a beginner,” Mr. Litt indicates clearly his extensive knowledge of his students’ lives.

“My experience?” Adam asks, confused. “She doesn’t need school anymore. And she won’t need my experience.”

“I’m not talking about school. Don’t pretend to be an idiot. How old were you when you started? Do you have a hundred to your name?” the teacher asks without looking at the boy.

“Eighty-six,” Adam replies quietly. “Since I was twelve. Not much for four years. Nothing to be proud of. Especially not enough to teach someone.”

“For a beginner, that’s a decent achievement. You can certainly give Delpha some pointers.”

“I don’t think she'll let me near her after today,” the boy sincerely doubts.

“The can of spray will run out sooner or later,” Mr. Litt smirks. “Just wait.”

“When this can runs out, she’ll buy a new one. And it’ll all start over. I’m afraid my eyes won't last that long,” Adam says with resignation.

“You despair too soon. Believe me, when she finds out who you are, she’ll come to you herself for advice and a hint. In the common pursuit, there will be nothing left of her hatred. And I don’t think things are that bad,” the teacher encourages him.

“She won’t let me near her,” Adam looks sadly at the school entrance.

“And you don't necessarily have to get close. Did you forget how you work? Do you have to approach the victim to kill them?” the teacher quietly reminds him.

“You shouldn’t confuse a victim with Delpha.”

“Then you use your skills to make sure the girl doesn't become a victim. Support her from a distance and discreetly,” Mr. Litt suggests seriously.

“Allow me to ask, how many do you have to your name?”

“I stopped counting a long time ago. I lost track after five,” the teacher smirks.

“Dozens?” Adam clarifies.

“Hundreds,” he answers with a sad smile, opening the school door.

“Are you still at it?” the boy enters first.

“I don’t stop,” Mr. Litt follows him.

“How do you manage to combine such work with school? How do you find the time?”

“You somehow find the time. Your grades are good. And you excel in your profession. Have you had any misses?” he asks in a whisper.

“I’ve made mistakes, trusting untested tools. I had to take risks when I shouldn't have. I’ve regretted it a thousand times. And I vow not to repeat the mistakes,” he recalls the experience.

“It's nothing. It’s harder at first. Fewer mistakes later. Everyone makes mistakes. Even pros,” the teacher reflects.

“And what did you make mistakes in?” he grows more interested, and there’s less and less time until class.

“That’s exactly what I made mistakes in,” Mr. Litt smiles sadly. “I supported, I talked them out of things. In the end, I lost students. Have you noticed how many students have disappeared from our school?”

“It's not your fault. Students choose their own path. I don’t understand why so many choose this profession?” Adam wonders.

“Do you know of any other popular jobs in our city? A farm or a factory that are closing down? But business people always have orders. You certainly do.”

“Not always orders,” Adam admits. “Sometimes I practice just for the pure experience.”

“Do you practice on random people?” the teacher looks at him more closely.

“Mostly criminals. Random people happen too,” Adam says quietly.

“A little cruel, don’t you think?” Mr. Litt hints.

“There are few criminals, but many random people. Experience suggests that there are quite a few criminals among the random ones. All sorts of things happen,” the boy excuses himself, not knowing everything.

“Do you follow up on the victims’ fate after the job?” the teacher asks.

“The coroner’s report and the case closing. I have enough information from the files. The investigation doesn’t get to me. And the person’s life ends in a dead end.”

“We are different,” Mr. Litt smiles sadly, entering the classroom. Adam follows him.

“Alright, you’ve found your calling, dropped out of school, dumped your boyfriend, and given up on a normal life. What's next?” a voice sounds from the phone screen.

“Where did you come from?” Delpha squints at the dark screen. “What do you care about my life?” she puts the phone in her pocket.

“What do you mean, ‘your life’?” the reflection protests. “It’s our life. I don’t want to wake up one day on a shattered piece of an optical sight in a pool of blood with a bullet through my pretty face.”

“That won’t happen,” the girl reluctantly imagines herself being killed on the very first job.

“You understand yourself that there’s a high probability,” the reflection seriously reminds her.

“What do you want?” Delpha takes the phone out of her pocket.

“I want to know what our plans are. I have the right to know. And I have a name!”

“And what is your name?” the girl asks, slightly annoyed.

“Call me Miro,” the reflection introduces herself importantly.

“If we have one life for two, why is your name different? Completely different.”

“In a reflection, people see their hidden selves, not the way they are with everyone else. I am different. My name is Miro. I see you, too. You are my reflection in the same phone. And I know you are Delpha. Why you don’t know my name is a mystery. An insulting mystery.”

“Are you trying to say you’re the same girl on the other side of the screen? Holding a phone and talking to me in the reflection?” Delpha holds the phone away from her.

“The girls and I conferred and decided to tell you. Every year you see a different version of yourself. You change, and we take turns. On your next birthday, Appy will arrive. She’s been preparing and waiting for a long time,” Miro explains seriously.

“Are you trying to say that if every year of my life has a reflection, and you all communicate, you know how many years I’ll live? We’ll live,” she clarifies, considering the news.

“Of course, I know. But I won’t tell you, don’t even ask,” the reflection warns immediately.

“Why?” Delpha protests. “You are my reflections! You are obligated to obey me!”

“The girls and I haven't heard sillier words,” Miro’s laughter makes the phone vibrate.

“I won’t spare the phone, I’ll smash it right now if you don’t stop,” she raises her hand.

“You’ll only lose the phone, you silly girl,” Miro smiles calmly. “If you haven’t figured it out yet, a reflection can appear anywhere. I appear all this year. And I’m not obligated to tell you anything. Especially not how many years you’ll live. Knowing that secret, a person ages faster, their reflection changes relative to the plan. Looking at another self, the most impressionable people die earlier than promised. And the last few reflections don't get to show up. I can’t let the girls down like that. You must not know the date of your death. Period.”

“What good are you to me anyway?” she carelessly puts the phone into the pocket with her keys.

“Your reflections aren’t usually that cruel,” Miro remarks with disappointment. “Imagine getting hit in the face with keys.”

“You’re looking at the screen from the other side, not sitting inside it. Did it hurt from a distance?”

“In my world, I look at the screen. But in your world, I become a living reflection. If you break the glass, I won’t die, but unpleasant sensations are guaranteed. So, be kind enough to put me back in the open air,” Miro insists. “It's dark and stuffy in the pocket.”

“Fine,” Delpha takes the phone out more carefully. “Why did you even start talking to me after seventeen years of silence?”

“I was talking. You weren’t listening. Don’t you remember how you talked to the mirror, singing in the shower in front of the glossy tiles? You only listened to yourself. Now I’m tired of your selfishness. I decided to speak to you louder when the lives of all reflections are put in danger because of your decision to take up this line of work.”

“Why don’t you like my decision? Nobody likes it, not even my reflections.”

“It’s good that you’ve found yourself. But by doing this, you endanger everyone. Did you see how the mirror in your room shattered? All the reflections will shatter like that when you die.”

“You know how many reflections I have. I won’t die early. I have time left to live,” Delpha speaks confidently to Miro.

“How do you not understand? That’s not the exact or final number. It’s the maximum you can live. The actual finishing number depends on how you live. At any moment, all of us could shatter. Maybe right now.”

“I hope not,” Delpha whispers, putting the phone away.

“That's why I want to help with advice if you can’t handle something on your own. Together, we’ll live to see the last reflection. The path you’ve chosen is difficult and ambiguous. It’s hard to walk alone. Bear that in mind,” Miro assures her.

“I will,” Delpha’s voice softens. “If you want to help, what should I start with? We are beginners in this business. And Mr. Litt didn’t really say anything specific.”

“I’ll definitely tell you. Now, hide me quickly! Just not in the pocket with the keys.”

“Why are you here? Class isn’t over,” Delpha walks past Adam pointedly.

“Mr. Litt let everyone go,” the boy walks a few steps behind his ex-girlfriend. “You didn’t go far.”

“I ran into an acquaintance,” the girl answers with the first thing that comes to mind.

“That’s strange. You said you only talked to our female classmates.”

“Not only them. I have a friend from my hometown. We’ve been friends since childhood. We ran into each other by chance. And anyway!” Delpha says nervously. “Why are you prying into my business with your questions? I thought it was clear. We’re not together. My desires don’t match your expectations. So why do you need me?”

“I want to give you one last gift as a farewell,” Adam answers calmly.

“I don't need anything from you,” she looks indifferently at the boy, who is now walking beside her.

“Please, take it,” he holds out a case, like one for a violin. “A farewell gift.”

“What is it?” Delpha looks dismissively at the case. “I’m not becoming a musician. Keep it for yourself,” she quickens her pace.

“Wait!” he stops her. As they walk, he pulls her by the hand to the side of the road. “You’ll need it,” he slightly opens the case.

“Where did you get that?” Delpha looks at the gift with interest.

“The first take-down long-range rifle with an optical sight. You'll be amazed by the accuracy. It was collecting dust in my uncle’s garage. You need it more,” he hands over the case. “It will be your first tool.”

“Thank you,” she whispers, stunned. “You can’t give it to me!” she snaps out of it. She hands the gift back. “You should learn to shoot yourself.”

“I don’t need it. But your life depends on your tool. It’s reliable,” Adam assures her.

“How do you know, if the rifle was gathering dust at your uncle’s, unused?” she looks at him suspiciously.

“I’ve heard many stories from my uncle. I take his word for it. Take it! Don't argue,” he firmly gives her the rifle and walks away in the opposite direction.

“How do you like the little gift?” Miro’s voice is heard from the case.

“I didn't expect it,” Delpha admits, taking out the optical sight with the reflection.

“The equipment is worthy of attention,” Miro notes. “It would be hard to imagine a better gift. And right on time.”

“The needed thing is never on time,” she looks at the sight skeptically. “I shouldn’t have taken it.”

“Adam knows how to give gifts, knowing that you might foolishly refuse,” Miro smirks, looking at Delpha. “You were wrong to treat him that way. He's a good guy.”

“You look at your Adam in your world. And forget about mine. It’s none of your business,” she sharply cuts off the reflection’s interest.

“You dumped him! And so dramatically, too. You upset him. I think he even managed to cry in front of everyone,” Miro laughs, remembering the pepper spray.

“The final decision wasn’t made yet. Adam made me lose my temper. He doesn’t understand anything about this business himself, yet he judges from the outside. At least he did something good for me,” she glances at the rifle through the slightly opened case. “He gave me his uncle’s, not his own. He can’t do anything right, but he tells me about a normal life. He criticizes me for dropping out of school, but he skips class himself. I don’t trust him.”

“You talk about trust,” Miro smirks. “Can Adam fully trust you?”

“I haven’t given him any reason to doubt me!” she slams the case shut with the optical sight inside. She nervously adjusts her hair.

“Really? You haven’t given him a single reason?” Miro asks suspiciously from inside the pocket. “Who made all the decisions without consulting him? Even though you discussed going to the same college after school together. You wanted to live together. And who was talking to another guy behind Adam’s back?”

“Just simple conversation!” Delpha insists. “I wasn’t cheating on him!”

“And what do you call talking to another person about personal matters behind his back?”

“Just conversation! And we rarely saw each other.”

“I don’t know about your world, but in ours, that’s called ‘emotional cheating.’ You betrayed Adam’s trust. And you’re blaming the guy?” Miro openly reproaches her.

“What if he was cheating on me more seriously?” the girl confidently argues with the reflection.

“He wasn't cheating,” Miro answers calmly.

“How do you know?” Delpha grows more and more nervous. “You’re always next to me.”

“Not always. A reflection is freer than the person. I can go anywhere there are mirrored surfaces. Sometimes I watched him. I listened to his conversations with guys. Less often with girls. Adam never cheated on you with anyone, not with a single word. And you act like this,” Miro tries to hit a nerve with every phrase.

“Leave me alone! You won’t reach my conscience. A professional shouldn't have one at all.”

“That’s the only thing you have of a professional’s,” Miro doesn’t hold back her anger, though she says much less than she thinks.

“If you talk too much, I’ll smash and throw out all the mirrors and glass,” Delpha warns the reflection irritably.

“Don’t you dare smash the sight!” Miro gets angry. “The tool is more valuable than your emotions.”

“I suggest we go out of the city and learn to shoot. You shouldn’t start training on live targets in the city,” Miro ponders. “Do you disagree with me?”

“Why can’t I start with people right away? It’s more realistic, and the training will be accelerated,” Delpha whispers, arguing with the reflection.

“You’re not a pro. Your eye isn’t accurate. If you miss, they'll notice, trace you, catch you, and put you in prison for attempted murder. An unsuccessful attempt.”

“Why would I miss right away?” Delpha protests.

“Have you shot at targets many times? Did you hit them?” Miro asks seriously.

“We don’t even have a shooting range. Where would I have shot? A rock at a wall?” the girl gets annoyed.

“That’s what I’m talking about. You don’t know how well you shoot. What if you hit a child?”

“And have you ever shot in your world?”

“I have, sometimes. Don’t confuse the worlds. You and I are different. Even if we look alike. The circumstances are different,” Miro reminds her.

“How can that be, if your world is a copy of mine, and you are my copy?”

“Don’t forget, you aren’t always being reflected. As long as there are no mirrored surfaces, I live my own life. That’s why reflections love it when people go into nature. Then we get a rest,” Miro explains, remembering pleasant moments of relaxation.

“And you should stay there!” Delpha exclaims, not noticing the passersby.

“We’d love to. If we’re connected to the original, mirrors pull us in. We can only leave with permission. And there’s one other way,” she adds in a whisper. “That’s why there’s never time to relax. Imagine you want to skip the first class and sleep in. But a bell forcibly pulls you to school. And you have to look appropriate. You know how hard it is to instantly change clothes at the mirror’s summons,” Miro shares heavily.

“I’m not forcing anyone. You don’t have to reflect,” Delpha is constantly angry at everyone.

“Are you sure?” Miro smirks. “Just say the word.”

“Yes! I’m sure!” Delpha declares. “I don’t need reflections like you!”

“As you wish!” Miro leaves on her own business in the world of reflections.

“Where are you, Miro?” the girl looks into the phone screen, examines the sight’s glass, and the shiny keys. Delpha’s reflection is nowhere to be found. “That’s strange. I didn't think that was possible. Vampires probably argue with their reflections, too. And it’s not scary! They live for centuries. I’ll live for a long time too! The copies are just being fussy. Driving up the price. It’s better to shoot than to talk to a silly girl in a scope.”