>Say "guy made of bees" thrice
>You are left with a sense of impeding dread you invoke this name.
> Drink some water to get rid of the frog taste.
> See if Kaguya and Mystia are ready.
> Ask Rumia if she is hungry.
>Trying to shake off the dread, you have some water to rinse out the frog taste. It certainly hits the spot, leaving you feeling a whole lot less grossed out. Maybe you won't catch any weird frog diseases now...
>Glancing out the door, you really can't see Mystia or Rumia. You think you hear some thumping around in their direction.
>"Let's go have cake for lunch!" Rumia suggests.
>"Candyman, Candyman, Candy-"
>That's just silly.
>Guy Made of Bees
>Despite you best instincts, you invoke the name one last time.
>The world around you seems to go cold. Sound seems to fade away, you can't hear the croaks of the invading frogs any longer. Your teeth start to chatter, something is very wrong now, you can feel it in every nerve of your body. Then you notice that Rumia's reflection is no longer in the mirror.
>You hear a sound. It is a sort of low, droning buzz. Then, you see it. The reflection in the mirror, your reflection, is watching you. Your mouth falls open a little, but the reflection's mouth does not. The droning buzz grows louder; you know there is something in the air, but you cannot see it. The reflection is still watching you, it's eyes, your eyes, making your skin crawl. You take a step away from the mirror, but it does not move. Instead, it twitches its lips, then it starts to speak, but there are no words.
>The droning is getting louder. The reflection continues to move, but not like a human being. It's mouth still moving, it's face starts to...warp. It is as though it's being twisted and torn into pieces at the edges. Unable to look away, you watch as the edges of this reflection dissolve away into little bits of something, swirling and spiraling around it. With each passing moment, that face becomes less human, more grotesque and distorted. The droning sound is echoing in your ears now, you can't aren't sure if you could even hear another thing now. The swirling chaos around that face seems to press against the mirror. Then, it passes through, and you see bees.
>The droning snaps into focus, becoming a horrible din of buzzing, a thousand thousand buzzes layer atop each other. More bees pour from the mirror, obscuring the unspeakable reflection. Hundreds, then thousands of them billow out as though some awful doorway had been thrown open, as you stumble further back. The swarm twists and writhes within itself, and you realize that you can still see that face, that face of yours horribly and hideously twisted. Yet it never stays for long, as the swim ungulates. It warps upon itself, sometimes beyond recognition. Yet it always comes back, watching you. Other times, you see shapes within the swarm, glimpses of things you cannot name; that you don't want to name.
>You can hear something in the drone. It sounds like a voice, a terrible, raspy voice, made from the buzzing of the tens of thousands of bees. It is hard to make out first, but you can hear it's message: "I'm... h...a...p...p...y..."
>"Guy made of antibees, guy made of antibees, GUY MADE OF ANTIBEES!"
>You aren't even sure if you said the words. You aren't sure if your lips even moved...
>_
