OFFLINE- Chapter 8
Reflection Behind the Chair
Kai spun around instantly.
Nothing stood behind him.
Only darkness, monitor glow, and rain sliding down the apartment windows.
But his heartbeat refused to slow.
Because he knew what he saw in the reflection.
Someone had definitely been standing there.
Tall.
Close enough to touch him.
Kai Mercer slowly looked back toward the livestream monitor.
The duplicate was gone.
The hallway on stream appeared empty again.
The chat exploded nonstop.
IT MOVED
CHECK THE WINDOW AGAIN
HE’S LEARNING FAST
Kai’s breathing became uneven.
“Learning?”
Another message instantly appeared from User-0.
User-0:
The longer you stream, the stronger the copy becomes.
Kai stared at the sentence.
“What copy?”
No response came immediately.
Then the apartment lights flickered rapidly overhead.
The monitor brightness dimmed for half a second.
And during that brief darkness—
Kai saw his own reflection on-screen smiling at him.
Not his real face.
The reflection.
Smiling independently.
The lights stabilized again.
His reflection returned normal instantly.
Kai physically shoved his chair backward from the desk.
“Nope.”
The knocking at the apartment door stopped abruptly.
Complete silence followed.
Even the rain outside seemed quieter now.
Then the viewers suddenly began leaving the stream.
Fast.
112,000 dropped to 87,000.
Then 64,000.
Then 41,000.
Kai frowned immediately.
“What’s happening?”
The chat slowed enough for individual messages to become readable again.
User-221:
He’s near your camera now.
User-18:
Don’t let him touch the lens.
User-0:
Do not lose visual contact with yourself.
Kai’s stomach twisted painfully.
The stream camera sat directly beside him on the desk.
Facing him.
Showing him live.
Then he noticed something horrifying.
The livestream feed displayed a slight delay now.
Not internet lag.
Movement delay.
When Kai raised his hand—
the stream version raised it half a second later.
His pulse quickened immediately.
No.
The delay slowly increased.
One second.
Two seconds.
Then the stream version of Kai stopped copying him entirely.
It remained motionless on the monitor while the real Kai continued breathing.
Watching.
Smiling faintly.
The apartment temperature dropped sharply again.
Kai’s breath fogged visibly in the dark room.
Then the stream version spoke.
Not through speakers.
Through Kai’s own microphone live on stream.
“You should’ve ended the broadcast earlier.”
The voice sounded almost identical to his.
Almost.
The chat exploded harder than ever before.
HE’S ACTIVE NOW
SECOND SELF CONFIRMED
DONT LET HIM SWITCH PLACES
Kai grabbed the webcam instantly and unplugged it from the computer.
The livestream feed cut to black.
Viewer count dropped rapidly.
For one brief second—
relief hit him.
Then the stream reconnected by itself.
The camera feed returned instantly.
Except now—
the angle had changed.
The stream showed Kai from across the room.
Like someone else was holding the camera.