Ethan stood in a boundless white void.The void was like a lazy painter, smearing the world in a flat, uniform coat, too indifferent to even draw a single shadow.
Before him floated three doors.No frames, no handles—just three rectangular slits hanging in the air, each radiating a different kind of aura.
From the first door came human cheers, like the background noise of a giant party, fizzing with the taste of cheap champagne.The second door carried sobs and screams, mingled with a machine-like drone, as if some infinite tragedy were looping forever.The third door was silent, pitch-black—yet somehow gave off a strangely alluring sense of "belonging."
Out of the whiteness stepped a middle-aged man in a cheap suit. He looked like a bank clerk, except his face bore a stiff, plastic smile, as if poured from a factory mold.
"Choose," the man said in a voice drained of emotion. "This is your life. The world is in your hands, Ethan."
Ethan blinked, then let out a dry laugh."I've never even had control over my paycheck, and now I'm supposed to pick the fate of the multiverse? Bit of an overestimation, don't you think?"
The man's false smile didn't twitch."If you don't choose, the universe will choose for you. And the result is usually worse."
Ethan sighed. Choices—the thing he hated most. Since school exams, he'd been convinced every multiple-choice answer he picked was always wrong. Now the question had leveled up:Door A—cheap happiness.Door B—endless pain.Door C—total unknown.
"Can I just skip them all?" he asked, half-joking.
"That is surrender. And surrender equals death," the man droned.
Ethan shook his head."Death actually sounds reasonable. Every version of life I've seen so far hasn't exactly been a sales pitch."
A flicker of something glinted in the man's eyes."Are you sure? You've never experienced eternal happiness."
Ethan raised an eyebrow."Happiness? You mean the canned-smile kind? I've seen plenty of that. Office coworkers grinning like programmed robots, wishing you a 'Happy Monday.' Please—that's worse than death."
The man fell silent, as if computing.
The void shuddered. All three doors swung open, and Ethan's mind was flooded with visions.
—Through the first door: he was an employee of the "Happiness Company." Endless bonuses, unlimited desserts, even lottery tickets that always hit jackpots. Everyone smiled at him, warm and tender—but behind those smiles were hollow, soulless eyes, shells without essence.
—Through the second door: people died endlessly, only to resurrect instantly. The same car crash, the same fire, the same assassination repeated on loop. Screams tore throats apart, but seconds later, they were whole again, ready for the next round of agony.
—Through the third door: nothing but a black ocean. He saw himself floating like a weightless corpse—and yet, disturbingly, he felt peace. No more ridiculous choices, no more cosmic quizzes. Just stillness.
Ethan pressed his hand to his forehead and chuckled softly."Three questions, three traps. The world really is a terrible exam teacher."
The man remained blank-faced."Choose."
"Why don't you choose?" Ethan snapped suddenly.
"Because I'm your creation," the man replied at last. His grin cracked wider, jagged as broken glass. "I am the part of you that always pushes choices onto others."
Ethan froze. It hit him—this "bank clerk" had always been that weary, sarcastic voice in his head, blown up by the void into a human form.
"Figures," Ethan muttered. "No wonder you look like shit. You're me at my worst."
The man didn't argue. He only raised his hand again, pointing at the three doors.
The void trembled, as if counting down. Ethan's pulse hammered. He knew—he couldn't stall anymore.
Closing his eyes, he saw flashes of Carl, the Bureau, the death mazes… laughter and sobs already fading into dust.
He opened them again, grinning wide.
"If every option's a trap, then let's do something new—I'll take all of them."
He spread his arms and stepped into all three doors at once.
The white void collapsed. Three worlds twisted into a blender. Laughter, screams, and silence poured into Ethan's ears all at once. His body shredded into countless fragments, each flung into a different reality.
A final whisper coiled in his ear:
"Welcome to the truth beyond multiple choices—congratulations, Ethan. You now fail in every world simultaneously."
Ethan laughed, even as agony split him apart. The sound rasped like barbed wire down his throat, but carried a strange kind of release.
—Because finally, he never had to choose again.