ghosts trying to attract attention with the help of Morse code. Yes, yes, the dear little ghosts.

Vegeta had already searched the CC all night. Every nook and cranny, every niche. Nothing was hidden from him. Now, at dawn, he looked at his work with satisfaction. Yes, that should be possible. It had to work that way.




10.00 am, the first signs of life in the letters. As always, Bulma padded into the kitchen half asleep, stood at the shaker and made her four milk shakes. Since Bra was still living with them and didn't even think about sending her little son back home, the landlady had resigned herself to making four shakes again, which wasn't much different from before anyway.


Yawning, she cleared the closet, tried to set the table and ... stopped abruptly. Was that one of those darned optical illusions or was there really a white piece of paper on the kitchen table? Frowning, she leaned over the piece of paper and studied it carefully. This strange block letters with the ornate capital letters looked familiar to her.

> Come to the old attic at 10:00 in the evening. Don't be surprised, I tidied up a bit ... and if you missed your mirror I just say: be even less surprised! I'm waiting. Woe don't you come! <


Thoughtfully, she put the note back. Some mirrors were missing, she had already noticed that. And the old attic ...? A smile crossed her lips. Vegeta had rebuilt it almost 30 years ago so that it then looked like his old home, Vegeta-Sei, the planet. Trunks and Bra shouldn't grow up ignorant of their father's origins. And indeed. He had made everything look deceptively real. Should she go there? Why?


Suddenly a shiver ran down her spine, she had recognized the distinctive handwriting.


"But ... but it can't ..." she breathed. Shivering, she looked at the message again. No doubt, the writer really didn’t have to be anyone less than ...

"YOU LITTLE ... Vegeta where are you?"


She was rudely torn from her thoughts when Bra suddenly, furious, rushed down the stairs, swept through the kitchen and cursed her son with all his might. As far as Bulma could tell, he was probably hiding somewhere. The blue-haired woman looked after her daughter pityingly, toddlers could be annoying. She knew that from her own experience. By noon she combed the whole house, cursing and grumbling. There was just one place she hadn't thought of ...


And in the attic little Vegeta was doing gymnastics and squeaking and playing with the man in the mirror.




Time passed, soon the sun sank below the horizon and the clocks struck ten times. The waning moon was in the sky and like the night before the clouds were moving over the black firmament. A wonderful night.


Little Vegeta had found himself again in the course of the afternoon, completely dusty he crawled to his mom, snuggled into the crook of her arm and a few minutes later slumbered deeply and peacefully.Bra had grimaced in disgust. Her offspring was totally filthy and didn't smell particularly well either. Bah!


Bulma smiled as she remembered that earlier scene. That morning she had finally laughed freely again. She stood grinning in front of the peculiarly grained table and looked at the small piece of paper that lay on it.


>> Come to the old attic at 10:00 in the evening. Don't be surprised, I've tidied up a bit ... << She knew the letter by heart, knew every single letter, every dangling and every ornament of the distinctive handwriting. And yet she couldn't really believe it. He was dead ... wasn't he?


With a pounding heart, she looked at the clock again. The big hand was on 12, the small hand on 10. If she wanted to be on time, she had to hurry. She walked silently through the dark corridors and turned off the lights everywhere. Something told her that he, or whoever wrote the message, would like it better that way.Up the stairs, to the second floor, to the left and then ... There she was now, small and lonely in front of the dark shaft that led up there. So it should be up here. Alright! Bulma's hands clenched into fists, she resolutely fished her key ring out of a large leather bag and put the old rusty key in the lock. A squeak sounded, which probably also shooed the last mouse of the CC roughly out of bed. However, the mice that were in the attic beams at the time were thrown out of the mouse beds without further ado. And that with her sensitive ears. (Shame on you, Bulma!)


She was amazed to find that someone must have unlocked the door in front of her, it was open.


>> Don't be surprised, I cleaned up something ... <<


> That's right, cleaned up ... What was that supposed to mean? <


A narrow streak of light ran through the dark floor of the room, giving a little insight into the dusty, abandoned world of the CC, the attic.Almost thirty years ago Vegeta had covered the windows with thick red sheets ... and they are still there. No ray of light penetrated the room from outside, which smelled musty after all this time and gave Bulma a shiver for various reasons. She was not comfortable with this room. No more.


Her hand felt her way along the wall, looked for a light switch, found it, pressed it and ... Bulma disgruntled the fact that someone had turned off the electricity up here. There was only one thing. Door open, very wide, until it almost went off its hinges. While she was still busy with the door, she suddenly heard a strange rustling. She looked up in amazement. Her eyes widened. Small beads of sweat appeared on her forehead. It couldn't be. Was she sleeping already? Was she just dreaming all this? With a quick wave of the hand she pinched her upper arm. Nothing there, no dream, it hurt. So in a matter of seconds someone had actually ripped the curtains off the rails and opened the windows.The silver light of the moon fell on the dusty floorboards, the wind whistled around the corners and the attic ... was suddenly brightly lit, almost like a big top. Feeling uncomfortable, she looked down again. Something was wrong here. It was creepy ... scary and ... kind of unreal. Besides this cold ... where did it come from so suddenly?


At that moment Bulma thought that she was not so easily frightened, on the contrary, Son-Goku had once told her that she had nerves of steel. But steel cables can also tear ...


The blue-haired woman froze in mid-movement. She had seen something. A shadow that flitted across the walls. She listened. No sound. Silence. There seemed to be an oppressive calm over the whole house. She straightened up. There it was again, this movement, this pattern. Bulma spun around. What the hell was that? The moon shone silently through the window, this cold light, she cursed it ... it could be brighter.She felt her heart beating faster. She looked around searching. And indeed ... this scheme was everywhere, seemed to be everywhere at the same time. A movement here, a scurry there, as if the mahogany-clad walls had suddenly come to life and wanted to drive them out of their realm again.


>> ... and if you missed your mirror I just say: wonder even less! <<


Bulma suddenly stopped her hunt for the phantom. Suddenly she realized who or WHAT was behind the scheme. A scornful smile crossed her face like a weasel. She took a deep breath, put her hands on her side, and didn't move. Just as she expected. No shadow, no nothing.


> I was right ... and yet I'm scared. Alright! One last try and I know whether I will stay here or leave again very quickly. <


With clenched teeth and a determined expression on her face, she trudged off.Always one step at a time. She banished the ghosts that were meanwhile dancing across the other walls from her thoughts for the time being. Then at last her hand hit a cold, smooth surface.


"Mmh ..."


She carefully felt her way along the surface with both hands, its texture did not change. Same material. Suddenly it got lighter. Had the cloud that covered the moon now disappeared, or had her eyes adjusted to the darkness? Bulma didn't know. The only thing that was certain was that she could finally see better. Opposite her stood a small woman with blue hair and ocean-like eyes. She had put her hands on her side and was glaring at them. Suddenly the stranger began to smile. Bulma smiled. A mirror. Just a mirror hanging on the wall showing its own appearance. A low chuckle came from Bulma's throat. She actually let herself be chased into the boxing horn by her own self.Vegeta would be laughing at herself again now and making all sorts of unwanted comments. Yes ... Vegeta ... old grouch ...


Out of the corner of her eye, Bulma saw that someone had taken the trouble to line almost the entire south facade of the attic with mirrors. At right angles to each other, wedged together like two cars that Son-Goku had used for his exercise, or just in a row. When someone entered the room, the individual mirrors reflected each other and this gave the impression that the room was teeming with people. The impression. In reality, however, you were left alone and it was only your own copies that pretended to be in a large community.


Bulma looked at each of the mirrors in turn. Large standing mirrors, wall mirrors, pocket mirrors, folding mirrors and one or the other cupboard with mirrored wings. Everything together and nicely arranged. Her gaze caught on a mirror.It was one of the greatest that the CC had to offer. Almost 2 m high and at least 1. 50 wide. It was framed by a brass setting and a large blood-red stone was emblazoned at the top. Maybe a ruby? Perhaps, in any case, this mirror was one of Bulma's favorites. She liked to look inside and see her reflection in the clear. Every little curl, every lash and unfortunately Dende's every unwanted crease. Vegeta had always had a lot of fun pointing them