The Magic Mirror

In the ancient capital city of Gyeongju, during the time when cherry blossoms bloomed like pink snow and palaces gleamed with golden tiles, there lived a young girl named Soo-jin. She was the daughter of a humble craftsman who made beautiful pottery, and while her family was not wealthy, their small home was filled with love and laughter.

Soo-jin had always been considered plain by the standards of her time. Her nose was too small, her eyes too narrow, and her skin bore the freckles of someone who spent time in the sun helping her father with his work. In a society that prized pale skin and delicate features, Soo-jin often felt invisible, especially when she saw the elegant court ladies with their painted faces and silk garments.

One day, while delivering her father’s pottery to the grand marketplace, Soo-jin noticed a commotion near the antique stalls. An elderly merchant with a long white beard was selling his wares before leaving the city forever.

“Step right up!” called the merchant in a voice like rustling leaves. “Treasures from across the seas! Wonders from distant lands! But beware—not all magic is meant for all people!”

Curious despite herself, Soo-jin approached the stall. Among the exotic items—silk scarves from China, jade figurines, and golden ornaments—her eyes were drawn to a mirror unlike any she had ever seen. It was framed in dark wood carved with intricate patterns of lotus flowers and flying cranes, and its surface seemed to shimmer with an inner light.

“Ah,” said the old merchant, noticing her interest, “you have a good eye, young lady. That is no ordinary mirror.”

“What makes it special?” Soo-jin asked, though she could barely afford to look at such treasures, let alone buy them.

The merchant’s eyes twinkled mysteriously. “This mirror shows not what you look like, but who you truly are. It reveals the beauty of the heart, the radiance of the soul. But be warned—it can be dangerous to see yourself too clearly.”

Soo-jin laughed nervously. “I’m sure I couldn’t afford such a wonderful thing.”

The old man studied her face carefully, as if reading secrets written there. “You know,” he said slowly, “I’ve been carrying this mirror for thirty years, waiting for the right person to claim it. Perhaps that person is you.”

“But I have no money for such a treasure,” Soo-jin protested.

“Who said anything about money?” The merchant smiled. “Answer me this: if you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?”

Soo-jin touched her freckled cheek self-consciously. “I would want to be beautiful, like the court ladies with their perfect features and graceful ways.”

The merchant shook his head sadly. “Wrong answer, child. The mirror is not for you.” He began to wrap the mirror in silk cloth.

“Wait!” Soo-jin called out, surprised by her own boldness. “Let me try again. If I could change one thing about myself…” She paused, thinking not of her appearance but of her heart. “I would want to be braver, so I could help more people and stand up for what’s right.”

The merchant’s face broke into a wide smile. “Now that is the right answer.” He placed the mirror in her hands. “Take it, child. It belongs to you now.”

Before Soo-jin could protest further, the old man had vanished into the crowd, leaving her holding the mysterious mirror.

That evening, alone in her room, Soo-jin unwrapped the mirror with trembling hands. The moment she looked into its surface, she gasped in wonder. Instead of her familiar plain reflection, she saw something extraordinary.

Her face glowed with warm, golden light. Her eyes sparkled with intelligence and kindness. Her freckles looked like tiny stars scattered across her cheeks. And behind her reflection, she could see images of all the kind things she had ever done—helping her elderly neighbor with water, sharing her lunch with hungry children, comforting friends when they were sad.

“Is this really me?” she whispered in amazement.

Over the following days, Soo-jin found herself looking in the magic mirror often. Each time, she saw different aspects of her inner beauty. When she helped her father in the pottery workshop, the mirror showed her hands surrounded by creative light. When she sang while working, musical notes danced around her reflection like butterflies.

But the mirror showed more than just her good qualities. When Soo-jin felt jealous of the wealthy girls in the marketplace, dark shadows appeared around her reflection. When she spoke unkindly about others, her image grew dim and cold.

Gradually, Soo-jin began to understand the mirror’s true power. It wasn’t changing how she looked—it was teaching her to see herself as she truly was, both the light and the darkness within her heart.

One day, Soo-jin’s friend Mi-young came to visit, tears streaming down her face.

“I’m so ugly,” Mi-young sobbed. “The boys at the market laughed at my crooked teeth and called me a scarecrow. I wish I could just disappear!”

Soo-jin’s heart ached for her friend. Without thinking, she brought out the magic mirror.

“Look,” she said gently, holding the mirror up to Mi-young’s face.

Mi-young gasped. In the mirror, she saw herself as Soo-jin saw her—a loyal friend with a generous heart, someone who always shared her sweets and never spoke ill of others. Her crooked teeth became a unique and charming smile, and her simple clothes seemed to glow with inner warmth.

“Is that really me?” Mi-young whispered, just as Soo-jin had done.

Word of the magic mirror spread quietly through the neighborhood. People began visiting Soo-jin, not to ask for their fortunes or buy pottery, but to glimpse their true selves in the mysterious glass.

The neighborhood bully saw himself as a frightened boy who used anger to hide his pain. A wealthy merchant’s wife saw past her fine clothes to the loneliness that consumed her heart. A young scholar saw not just his intelligence, but the pride that made him look down on others.

Some people were delighted by what they saw. Others were disturbed or saddened. But all of them left Soo-jin’s house changed in some way.

One evening, a grand palanquin stopped outside Soo-jin’s humble home. From it emerged Lady Yun, the most beautiful woman in the city, renowned for her perfect features and elegant manner. She was also known for her cruelty to servants and her cold, selfish heart.

“I have heard about your magic mirror,” Lady Yun announced haughtily. “I wish to see myself in it.”

Soo-jin hesitated. She had learned that the mirror could be painful for those unprepared for its truth. But Lady Yun insisted, and Soo-jin finally brought out the mirror.

Lady Yun looked into its surface and screamed. Instead of her beautiful face, she saw something twisted and ugly—not in features, but in spirit. Her reflection showed the cruelty in her eyes, the selfishness that turned her mouth into a hard line, the coldness that made her beauty meaningless.

“This mirror is cursed!” she cried, striking it from Soo-jin’s hands.

The mirror shattered on the stone floor, its pieces scattering like fallen stars. Lady Yun fled, but not before the image she had seen was burned into her memory forever.

Soo-jin knelt among the broken pieces, tears falling onto the shattered glass. The magic mirror was destroyed, and with it, her window into the deeper truths of human nature.

But as her tears touched the glass, something wonderful happened. Each shard began to glow softly, and Soo-jin realized that the mirror’s true magic had never been in the glass itself—it had been in learning to see with the eyes of the heart.

From that day forward, Soo-jin no longer needed a magic mirror to see the beauty in herself and others. She had learned to look beyond surface appearances to the qualities that truly mattered—kindness, courage, compassion, and love.

Years later, Soo-jin became known throughout the city not for her physical beauty, but for her ability to see the best in everyone she met. People said she had magic eyes that could look into souls, but Soo-jin knew the truth.

The real magic was simply choosing to see with love instead of judgment, to look for light instead of shadows, and to remember that the most beautiful thing about any person was the goodness of their heart.

And sometimes, on quiet evenings when the light was just right, Soo-jin would catch glimpses of that same magical radiance in her regular mirror—the glow that had always been there, waiting for her to believe in it.