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"i see. well, this is normal with my mother. i'm just one of her dolls."
— Mei Misaki, Another —
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[ 3RD PERSONS VIEW。]
It was a decent Saturday morning, the air was clear though cold. The detective drove her way around the quiet town, stopping her tracks onto a shop. Though it wasn't that well-known, it still earned limited onlookers from time to time.
Hopping out the car, she locks her car before entering the shop. It was an antique store that sold various dolls.
The dimly lit place was enough to send chills down your spine, with the crafted dolls stored in glass containers around the place, they came in different designs and sizes.
Yura never thought she would come here again. She remembered coming to this store once, around a year ago and a few months back, it was almost new and never did it look so gloomy. Seeing the visible changes, heart beating fast the longer she eyed the creepy looking moppets.
"Welcome to the shop, dear."
A voice said suddenly resulting in her to flinch and shot a look towards the once empty counter. Smiling oddly at her was Mrs. Choi herself, the owner of the place.
Relieved to know that it wasn't something else, she had her palm over her chest as it heaved up and down from shock, "Please don't do that-" she murmured and approached the counter.
"You can call me Mrs. Choi, say, are you a detective? What brings you to my doll shop?" gesturing a hand towards one of the small clipboards, "You're in luck! These precious dolls are on a discount- would you like to take a look around?"
Yura hummed, glancing back as a set of dolls stared at her. The beat to her heart thumping loudly, an eerie sense coming from each doll that was made from hand. It felt as if they would come to life any minutes, but no, these dolls were hollow.
No mind, no heart, no soul, just a lifeless hollow body.
"Yes, if you would let me." she nodded and Mrs. Choi welcomed her gladly.
"Of course, who knows maybe you would find a doll of your liking."
Striding deeper inside the shop, she avoided looking into the doll's eyes, knowing if she did, the more frightened she'd become.
Chewing the insides of her cheeks, Yura came across a doll inside a glass casket. Light brown hair, golden sunny eyes, and a cute pink dress that complimented her peachy complexion.
Examining the life-size doll made her come into her senses. It resembled someone– Choi Haruki to be exact.
What if this was the real Haruki?
But, that wouldn't make sense right? How could a body of a deceased person still look so fresh after three weeks after her demise?
Technically, a dead body around several weeks after death wouldn't really look fresh. By then, the body should've turned green to red as blood would start to decompose and the organs in the abdomen would accumulate gas- it should be that the persons nails and teeth should start falling out.
Bothered by her own assumptions, she shook her head busily to get rid of the insane theory that had just barged in, her knees growing weak at the thought.
"I see you've found her most favorite doll."
Gasping as her back slammed into the wall, a thud from the movement. Lips pressed into a thin line, Yura faced the rumored copycat.
"Y-You!" she characterizes, her index finger directed to the girl who came by the velvet curtains.
The dingy brown hair, most of it covering the recognizable eyepatch she always wore; pallid skin- supposed her golden eyes were paler as she radiated a defunct vibe. "You're not supposed to be here." was the next thing she said.
Tearing her gaze from the detective, she looked down at the glass casket, "She has an uncanny resemblance to Haruki, doesn't she?"
"But unlike the bright Haruki, this doll is like me. Hollow... lifeless... Dead– to be exact."
"Dead?" ears perking at the choice of words, narrowing her eyes at the presumed copycat ghost of Choi Haruki.
A short hum, "What brings you here," the dark brown-haired girl questioned, a glimpse of the detective's badge, "Ahn Yura?"
"I'm here to observe, it was assumed that this place was one of Haruki's last destinations, right? Choi Haruka?" the detective reasoned, cocking a brow, "Or should I say... copycat ghost?"
Resentment flaring inside of Haruka, her fingers curling into a fist as she sent Yura a lopsided grin, "You believe I'm the copycat ghost?"
"Well, I can prove it." Yura boasted, a hand by her waistline.
Haruka shook her head and began walking away, "No matter how much evidence you gather, it's already normal that my relatives consider me nonexistent. After all, my mother didn't wish for twins anyway."
"What?" Yura choked on her spit, backing away.
"I'm just nothing but a doll to her– hollow, empty, and dead inside." Haruka motioned towards the innumerable beauties her mother adored and settled onto cabinets and shelves, "I can tell you more, but I don't exactly trust you."
"For now, I'd say you should stay away from messing with Haruki's friends, I don't know why you keep on convincing them... unless," she shrugs and pushed through the curtains.
Yura furrowed her brows, yanking the curtains to the side but all she saw was a door. Wriggling the knob, she twisted it open only to realize that it leads her outside.
It was a backdoor.
Huffing, she made her journey out, Mrs. Choi waved her goodbye as she left.
"What a mysterious kid." Yura spat coldly, glaring at the only photo she managed to collect of Choi Haruka.
