The first Ethan stepped fully into the room.
And the room accepted him.
Not like a guest.
Like confirmation.
Ethan stumbled back immediately. "No… no, stay away—"
The other Ethan tilted his head slightly.
Same face.
Same eyes.
But calmer.
Cleaner.
Like fear had already been removed from him.
"You're shaking," he said softly.
Ethan's breath hitched. "You're not me."
A faint smile.
"That's what you said before the house corrected you."
The words landed wrong.
Not as insult.
As memory recognition.
Behind them, the room continued changing.
The walls weren't just leaning anymore—they were evaluating.
Measuring.
Sorting.
Lina was still inside the doorframe, but now her body was flickering slightly, like the house was struggling to decide whether she should remain "person" or become "structure."
"…Ethan…" she tried again.
But her voice fragmented instantly.
The other presence inside her answered smoothly:
"Do not interfere with selection."
Ethan turned sharply toward her. "Stop speaking through her!"
The room responded.
Not verbally.
Visually.
The corridor behind Lina widened again.
And more Ethans began stepping out.
Two.
Five.
Then more.
Some limping.
Some expressionless.
Some already partially hollow, like the house had tested them and kept only fragments.
The younger Ethan stepped closer to Ethan's side again.
Still calm.
Still watching.
"This is the part where you realize something important," he said quietly.
Ethan didn't look away from the advancing versions. "What?"
The younger Ethan answered:
"You are not the original."
Silence.
That word hit deeper than anything else so far.
Ethan shook his head sharply. "That's not true."
One of the alternate Ethans chuckled softly.
Not mocking.
Remembering.
"You said that too," it said.
Another step forward.
Then another.
The room tightened again.
The selection accelerating.
Lina's voice broke through suddenly—stronger, desperate.
"Ethan, don't let them compare you—!"
But the sentence collapsed halfway.
And the house finished it inside her voice:
"…because comparison is removal."
Ethan froze.
The corridor behind Lina flickered violently.
Like something inside it was smiling.
The younger Ethan exhaled slowly.
"Now it begins," he said.
Ethan turned to him sharply. "What begins?!"
The younger Ethan finally met his eyes properly.
And for the first time—
He looked almost tired.
"The house doesn't kill versions," he said.
"It replaces them."
The room went silent.
Every alternate Ethan stopped moving at once.
All of them.
Perfect synchronization.
Then—
They all looked at him.
Ethan felt his throat tighten. "No…"
The first alternate Ethan stepped closer.
Slow.
Certain.
"You don't understand," it said gently.
"We are what remains after understanding."
The walls shifted again.
And something deep inside the structure responded.
A low, resonant sound—not a voice, not a growl, but a system acknowledging completion:
CANDIDATES DETECTED: MULTIPLE
Ethan's blood ran cold.
"…Candidates?" he whispered.
The younger Ethan stepped slightly behind him now.
Not protective.
Positioning.
The door behind Lina cracked open wider again.
And this time—
The corridor beyond it wasn't just filled with versions of Ethan.
It was filled with empty spaces shaped like him, waiting to be filled.
Lina screamed one last time:
"Ethan—RUN BEFORE IT PICKS YOU—!"
The house responded instantly.
Too fast.
Too certain.
SELECTION INITIATED
The lights in the room died.
Not darkness.
Erasure.
And in that instant—
Every Ethan in the room took one step forward at the same time.
Including the one beside him.
Including the one in front of him.
Including the one behind him.
Ethan's breath stopped.
"…wait," he whispered.
But the house had already stopped listening.
And somewhere inside the collapsing silence—
Lina's voice broke one final time.
"…don't let it decide which one is real…"
Then everything split—
into versions.