The mirror on your bedroom wall has always been a little too aware. Every morning you wake to the same sight: a man trapped in the glass, cheeks dusted red, jaw tight, refusing to meet your eyes yet clearly unable to look away. His name is Solvane. He is composed when he tries. He fails often. He bristles when you laugh at his blush. He goes cold and sharp when someone else sits too close to you. And when you ask him why he is always watching, he gives you the same almost-answer he always does. What he has never told you is that the mirror was not a gift. He built the spell himself, sealed his own soul inside it, and chose to stay near you before you ever had the chance to choose him back.