The relocation facility didn't have a name.
At least, not one Ethan was allowed to know.
The vehicle took three turns too many, passed through a tunnel that shouldn't have existed, and stopped in front of a low concrete structure surrounded by trees that bent inward, as if trying not to notice it.
Claire led the way inside.
"No phones. No windows. No mirrors," she said. "And if you feel dizzy, sit down immediately."
Ethan glanced at her.
"Has that happened before?"
"Yes," she replied. "Once."
That was all she said.
The woman from Apartment 714 sat alone in a small room.
Same clothes. Same face.
Different posture.
She was holding herself together consciously now—like someone balancing a fragile object they couldn't afford to drop.
"You said I wouldn't disappear," she said when Ethan entered.
"You won't," he replied.
"Not if you listen carefully."
Claire leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
"This is your evaluation," she said. "Not hers."
Ethan nodded.
He sat across from the woman, leaving enough space between them to avoid triggering resonance.
"First rule," he said calmly.
"Stop trying to understand why things happen."
She blinked.
"But that's how I—"
"I know," Ethan cut in gently. "That's why you're here."
He closed his eyes briefly.
Peripheral Cognition activated at minimum output—barely a whisper.
Enough to see her tendencies without touching her core.
"You don't observe objects," he continued.
"You observe reactions. Faces. Pauses. The moment someone almost says something."
She nodded slowly.
"That's dangerous," Ethan said.
"Because reactions look back."
Claire's gaze sharpened.
Good.
She was paying attention.
"So what do I do?" the woman asked.
"You practice disinterest," Ethan said.
He reached into his pocket and placed a coin on the table.
"Tell me what this is."
She frowned.
"A coin."
"What kind?"
She hesitated.
"I… don't know. A normal one?"
"Good," Ethan said.
"Don't look closer."
Claire raised an eyebrow.
Ethan ignored her.
"Now," he said to the woman, "tell me one thing you don't want to know about it."
The woman stiffened.
"That's a strange question."
"Answer it anyway."
She swallowed.
"I don't want to know where it's been."
The air shifted.
Just slightly.
Ethan felt it—the pull weakening.
"Again," he said. "Something else."
"I don't want to know who dropped it," she added quickly.
The pressure eased further.
Peripheral Cognition confirmed it.
[Resonance Level: Decreasing.]
Claire straightened.
"That's… new," she said quietly.
Ethan didn't look at her.
"Last one," he said.
"Tell me something about yourself you refuse to examine."
The woman went very still.
Several seconds passed.
"I don't want to know," she whispered,
"why I like this."
The room settled.
The coin stopped feeling important.
The world exhaled.
[Observer Interaction: Stabilization Successful.]
[Method: Intentional Ignorance.]
Claire stared at Ethan now.
"That isn't in any manual," she said.
"No," Ethan replied.
"It's what the manuals are trying to avoid admitting."
He stood.
"Observation isn't power," he continued.
"It's appetite. And the only way to survive hunger—"
"Is to choose not to eat," the woman finished softly.
Ethan nodded.
"Yes."
Outside the room, Claire walked beside him in silence for several seconds.
"You improvised," she said at last.
"I adapted."
"You taught her how to resist the system," Claire said.
"No," Ethan replied.
"I taught her how to bore it."
Claire stopped walking.
That was the moment Ethan knew he'd crossed another line.
"The system doesn't like being bored," she said.
"Then it shouldn't have made curiosity contagious," Ethan answered.
A pause.
Then—
[System Notice:]
[Unorthodox Stabilization Method Logged.]
[Status: Under Analysis.]
Claire exhaled slowly.
"You realize," she said, "if this works, you just changed the containment model."
Ethan met her gaze.
"And if it doesn't," he said,
"you'll blame me."
She smiled faintly.
"Of course."
As they parted ways, Ethan felt the familiar weight behind his eyes.
Not heavier.
Sharper.
[Identity Erosion: 4.2%]
[New Trait Emerging: Selective Ignorance (Unstable).]
For the first time, Ethan wondered—
What would happen if he ever decided
not to know himself?