Section Three: Who's Outside the Door
The sound of the door locking from the inside wasn't loud.
Yet it was like a knife, cutting Room 404 completely off from the outside world.
Ethan Lin stood beside the bed.
His right hand still gripped his gun.
The beam of his flashlight shone straight beneath the bed.
The woman with Claire Su's face was curled up in the shadows, clutching a kraft-paper file in both hands. Blood from the corners of her mouth stained her deathly pale face.
Broken black threads hung from her lips.
Like tiny worms.
“How did you know?”
She raised her face.
“That the one outside is the real one?”
Ethan didn't answer.
The first line of the notice still lay on the desk.
Before moving in, please confirm that you are moving in alone.
Not “confirm that there is only one person in the room.”
But “confirm that you are moving in alone.”
The two sentences seemed identical, but their meanings were completely different.
The first described the space.
The second confirmed identity.
If Room 404 determined that two people had moved in at the same time, it might begin choosing again which one was the real tenant.
Ethan moved his gaze from the notice back beneath the bed.
“Push the file over.”
The woman didn't move.
“Aren't you going to save me first?”
“You don't need to be saved.”
“Why not?”
“Because you aren't tied up.”
She lowered her head and looked at herself.
He was right. There were no ropes.
No restraints.
Other than the black threads that had once sewn her lips shut, all four limbs could move freely.
“Maybe I'm afraid to come out.”
“Claire Su wouldn't hide under a bed because she was scared.”
The woman smiled.
“You know her that well?”
“Well enough to determine that you're not her.”
“Then what would she do when she was afraid?”
Ethan didn't answer.
This wasn't an ordinary interrogation.
It was gathering information.
Every answer might bring the thing before him closer to the real Claire Su.
The woman rested her chin on her knees.
“Not answering?”
“Or do you not know either?”
The corners of her mouth rose higher and higher.
“You've known each other for seven years.”
“You've handled nineteen major cases together.”
“She took a knife for you once.”
“You got her suspended for two months.”
“You know she drinks her coffee without sugar.”
“You know she touches her left index finger when she's thinking.”
“You know she hates being touched from behind.”
“But you don't know what she does when she's afraid.”
Ethan's gaze darkened slightly.
Not all of this information was secret.
Police files, conversations with colleagues, and surveillance footage could all have left traces.
But the last item—
Claire Su hated being touched from behind.
She had never said that publicly.
It was a reaction left behind by a case four years ago.
Only Ethan had seen it.
The woman beneath the bed noticed the change in his eyes.
“I was right.”
Her voice was soft.
“So now you're starting to doubt.”
Ethan raised the muzzle of his gun.
“One last time.”
“Push the file over.”
The woman lowered her head and looked at what she held.
The kraft-paper cover was soaked with her blood.
“You want to know what this is?”
“I know what it says.”
“The Thirteenth Case Investigation Unit.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“That’s just the cover.”
“What's inside is about you.”
The room fell silent for a moment.
The woman moved the file forward a little.
“Don't you want to take a look?”
Ethan didn't move closer.
“Throw it out.”
“Are you afraid I'll touch you?”
“Yes.”
“You were ready to save me just now.”
“Just now, I didn't know you could talk.”
The woman began to laugh under her breath.
“So the voice is the problem.”
She laid the file flat on the floor.
Extending two fingers, she slowly pushed it outward.
The file left the shadows beneath the bed.
It stopped at the boundary between light and darkness.
Ethan didn't pick it up immediately.
“Push it farther.”
The woman did as he said.
The file slid to his shoes.
Throughout the entire process, her arm never left the space beneath the bed.
Ethan pinned the cover down with the toe of his shoe, his gaze still fixed on her.
“Now come out.”
“After I come out, will you shoot me?”
“Depends on what you do.”
“What if I don't do anything?”
“Then I won't.”
“Liar.”
The woman's expression suddenly went calm.
“You've already decided to shoot.”
Ethan didn't deny it.
The real Claire Su was extremely good at observing other people's subtle reactions.
This thing in front of him seemed to have inherited that ability too.
Or—
It was reading his impressions of Claire Su.
“You don't like things you can't judge,” the woman said.
“You treat the unknown as a threat first.”
“That's reasonable.”
“So now you're waiting.”
“Waiting for what?”
“For me to make a move that isn't like Claire Su.”
She slowly crawled out from under the bed.
Her hands came out first.
Then her shoulders.
Her movements weren't twisted or abnormal.
She simply looked like someone who had spent too long in a cramped space, bracing herself on the floor with her elbows before slowly sliding sideways out.
Her shirt was covered in dust.
There was a tear at the left cuff.
Ethan recognized the shirt.
Claire Su had indeed been wearing the same style that afternoon.
The woman sat on the floor beside the bed.
She didn't stand.
She placed both hands where they could be seen.
“How about this?”
Ethan's gun remained trained on her.
“Turn around.”
“You just said she doesn't like being touched from behind.”
“So?”
“So I won't touch you from behind.”
The woman stared at him for several seconds.
Then she slowly turned around, presenting her back to Ethan.
Her hair fell over her shoulders.
The skin at the back of her neck was intact.
There were no scars.
“What next?”
“Put your hands on your head.”
She did so.
Ethan took a step forward.
The toe of his shoe still pinned down the kraft-paper file.
They were less than a yard apart.
The woman's breathing was steady.
There was no sign that she intended to resist.
Just as Ethan was preparing to restrain her with zip ties, the index finger of her left hand suddenly moved slightly.
It wasn't resistance.
It was a habitual motion, rubbing the center of her right palm.
That was another subtle habit Claire Su displayed when thinking—one that was harder to notice.
She didn't only touch her left index finger.
When her emotions were suppressed to the breaking point, she also used her fingertip to rub an old injury on her right palm near the thumb.
Ethan's movement stopped for half a second.
The woman didn't turn around.
“You saw it,” she said.
“So now you're even less certain.”
Ethan immediately fastened the zip tie around both her wrists.
Click.
The plastic teeth tightened.
The woman didn't resist.
“That doesn't prove anything,” Ethan said.
“Of course not.”
“It's just a habit.”
“You know too much.”
“Maybe because I am her.”
“Or maybe because you're looking for answers in me.”
The woman's shoulders stiffened slightly.
The reaction lasted only an instant.
Ethan saw it.
“You don't know those things,” he said.
“You're just testing things one by one based on my reactions.”
The woman fell silent.
“The clothes.”
“The work history.”
“The public information.”
“All of it could be found.”
Ethan continued, “The details that truly shook me were the ones you picked from my face.”
“You said she touches her left index finger.”
“That was correct.”
“Then you deliberately rubbed your right palm.”
“Because you saw that I hadn't fully believed you after the first habit.”
The woman still had her back to him.
“So you added a second detail.”
Ethan pressed the muzzle of his gun against the back of her head.
“But you made one mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“Claire Su doesn't have an old injury on her right palm.”
The woman's fingers stopped moving.
The room fell utterly silent.
Ethan was lying.
Claire Su did have an old injury on her right palm.
But if the thing before him could only judge by his reactions, it couldn't determine whether that statement was true.
The woman sat motionless on the floor.
Several seconds passed.
Then she said quietly, “You're lying to me.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you didn't shoot me immediately.”
Ethan pulled the trigger.
Bang!
The bullet grazed the woman's ear and struck the wall ahead.
Cement fragments sprayed through the air.
The woman's entire body jolted violently.
Instinctively, she hunched her right shoulder.
In that instant—
She didn't protect her head first.
She didn't drop flat.
Instead, she used her bound hands to shield her chest.
As if protecting something in her arms.
But there was no longer a file in her arms.
Ethan's expression changed.
Under a sudden attack, the real Claire Su never protected herself first.
She protected the evidence.
That was an instinct formed through years of fieldwork.
It couldn't be achieved by merely imitating a few habits.
The woman turned her face.
The bullet had cut a bloody line along her ear.
There was no longer any smile in her eyes.
“You really shot me.”
“I didn't hit you.”
“Almost.”
“I know the distance.”
“And you knew which way I'd dodge?”
Ethan didn't answer.
The woman looked at the kraft-paper file beneath his shoe.
“Open it.”
“Tell me what's inside first.”
“I don't know.”
“You just said it contained me.”
“That wasn't something I said.”
Ethan's gaze suddenly turned cold.
“What do you mean?”
The woman's breathing grew rapid.
“When I woke up under the bed, my mouth had been sewn shut.”
“The file was already in my hands.”
“Someone was speaking beside my ear.”
“She told me that if I said what I'd been told, you'd come closer.”
“Who?”
“I couldn't see her.”
“What about the voice?”
The woman hesitated.
“It was my voice too.”
Ethan stared at her.
This could be another layer of manipulation.
Or it could be true.
Room 404 didn't merely create duplicates.
It made everyone doubt themselves and each other, until they actively completed the choice of identity.
“What else did she say?”
“She said you wouldn't save me.”
“Because you'd never truly trusted anyone.”
The woman looked at him.
“She said that as long as I made you doubt the Claire Su outside, you'd stay here.”
“Why?”
“Because you'd want to find out which one was real.”
Suddenly, urgent knocking came from outside the door.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Not two knocks in a regular pattern.
Three in rapid succession.
“Ethan!”
Claire Su's voice came from the hallway.
“Are you in there?”
The woman inside immediately raised her head.
Ethan didn't respond.
The voice outside continued:
“I can't get a signal on my phone.”
“The others have already withdrawn downstairs.”
“Don't open the door yet.”
Ethan glanced at the bound woman.
Her face was pale.
“The one outside knows I'm here,” she whispered.
The Claire Su outside seemed to hear her.
“Ethan.”
“Is there another me in the room?”
Ethan remained silent.
“Don't ask her questions,” Claire Su outside said.
“And don't let her ask you any.”
“She'll obtain memories from your answers.”
The woman inside shook her head violently.
“No.”
She lowered her voice.
“The one outside is the one leading you.”
“She wants you to stop talking to me.”
The voice outside spoke again.
“She'll say I'm the fake.”
The woman inside immediately fell silent.
Two Claire Sus.
One inside the door.
One outside.
They both knew what the other would say.
Not because they heard it—
But as if they shared the same method of reasoning.
“Ethan, don't choose.”
“She wants to stall.”
“As long as you don't choose, neither of us will be left behind.”
“As long as you don't choose, Room 404 will choose you.”
“Don't believe her.”
“Don't believe her.”
The final sentence—
They said it at the same time.
Their tones, rhythm, and breathing were perfectly synchronized.
Ethan stood between the two voices.
His face was expressionless.
He closed the file.
“I won't choose.”
The woman inside raised her head.
The woman outside also fell silent.
Ethan said, “Neither of you is Claire Su.”
The woman inside went pale.
The breathing outside stopped for an instant.
“The real Claire Su wouldn't enter this building,” Ethan said.
“Why?” the woman outside asked.
“Because I ordered her to stay in the car.”
The woman inside said softly, “She never listens to your orders.”
“That's right,” Ethan said.
“So she'd disobey.”
“Then what makes you think she didn't come in?”
“Because she'd come in her own way.”
Ethan looked toward the corner of the ceiling.
An old smoke detector was mounted there.
“Not by using the stairs.”
The instant he finished speaking, a dull thud came from above the ceiling.
Then came the sound of metal being pried open.
Clatter.
The maintenance hatch beside the smoke detector suddenly fell away.
Bang!
Dust scattered everywhere.
A black rope dropped from the opening.
The next second, the real Claire Su slid down from the ceiling crawl space.
She wore a dark waterproof jacket.
Her hair was tied back.
A stun gun was clenched in her right hand.
In her left was a small bottle of clear liquid.
When both feet touched the floor, she didn't look at Ethan first.
She turned directly toward the bound woman.
The clear liquid splashed out.
It covered the woman's face.
The woman inside the room let out a piercing scream.
Not because the liquid was corrosive.
It was only ordinary saline.
But when it touched her skin, Claire Su's face began to peel away.
Not as skin coming off—
More like paint on the surface of water being washed apart.
Her eyes, nose, and lips rapidly blurred.
Within seconds, she had become a blank face without any features.
The bound body thrashed wildly.
Chaotic sounds forced their way from its throat.
“Mother.”
“Old woman.”
“Jason Huang.”
“Ethan Lin.”
Dozens of different voices overlapped.
“Choose one!”
“You have to choose one!”
“Which one is real?”
“Say it!”
Claire Su ignored it.
She raised the stun gun and pressed it directly against the faceless thing's neck.
Bzzzt!
Blue-white electricity exploded.
The thing's entire body convulsed.
Its form flickered like an unstable image, constantly switching between different human shapes.
A man.
A woman.
An old person.
A child.
At last, it became a black outline clinging to the floor.
It rapidly shrank toward the space beneath the bed.
Ethan stepped on the zip tie, pinning it in place.
Claire Su took a metal specimen container from her pocket and pressed its lid over the black shadow.
The instant the bottom of the container touched the floor, a pale blue indicator light appeared around them.
The shadow seemed to be sucked inside by tremendous force.
It twisted and shrank rapidly.
Finally, it became a wisp of black smoke and slipped into the container.
Clack.
The lid locked automatically.
The room fell silent again.
The Claire Su outside the door had disappeared too.
Only the faint electrical hum of the hallway's motion-sensor light remained.
Ethan looked at the real Claire Su.
“Saline?”
“A test.”
“A test for what?”
“It has my appearance.”
Claire Su crouched down and checked the indicator light on the specimen container.
“But it may not have normal human surface tension and sebum structure.”
“Ordinary water was enough to show whether the image was stable.”
“How did you know?”
“I guessed.”
“And if you guessed wrong?”
“Then I would have apologized to a woman who looked very much like me.”
She raised her head.
“But apparently I don't have to.”
Ethan glanced at the ceiling.
“How did you get in?”
“From the roof of the building next door.”
“I crossed over using the fire pipes, then came in through the ventilation maintenance level.”
“I told you not to come in.”
“I didn't use the apartment entrance.”
Claire Su stood.
“Technically, that doesn't count as disobeying.”
Ethan didn't argue further.
That really was something Claire Su would do.
Not because she liked disobeying—
But because she was accustomed to finding the loopholes in an order with precision.
Claire Su walked to the desk.
When she saw the kraft-paper file, she said, “Don't touch it.”
“You touched it?”
“Not directly.”
“Good.”
She put on two layers of gloves and used tweezers to open the file.
When she saw the two identical photographs, she showed little surprise.
“The angle is wrong.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“The one taken at the street corner.”
Claire Su pointed to the photograph.
“I was sitting in the car then, but it was raining outside the window.”
“There are no water marks on the glass in the photograph.”
“This isn't the scene from just now.”
She took out her phone and found the scene photo she'd taken when she arrived at the street corner.
The apartment building's exterior was covered in rain.
A yellow taxi was parked at the entrance.
The old man in the driver's seat had his head lowered.
A blurred figure sat in the back seat.
Claire Su enlarged the image.
“Look at the back seat.”
Ethan moved closer.
The person was holding the kraft-paper file.
The cover faced the camera.
It didn't say “The Thirteenth Case Investigation Unit.”
It said five other words.
Original Sample Roster.
“What about the taxi?” Ethan asked.
“It was still there before I came up.”
“Who was driving?”
“I don't know.”
“The license plate?”
“Couldn't be traced,” Claire Su said.
“The plate caught by the surveillance cameras was different in every frame.”
“Not blurred.”
“Actually different.”
“What about the person in the back?”
“At first, I thought it was you.”
“Why?”
“The build.”
She enlarged the photograph again.
Although the figure's face wasn't visible, the ring finger of its right hand was slightly bent.
That was a habit Ethan had been left with after breaking a bone years ago.
Claire Su looked at him.
“Now I'm not sure.”
Ethan fell silent.
He remembered the recording from Room 402.
The thirteenth person has returned.
He also remembered the memory from the hospital bed.
Number thirteen doesn't need a name.
He only needs to remember everyone else's.
“We can't keep anyone in this room.”
Claire Su put away her phone.
“The sample's secured. Let's get out first.”
“The door won't open.”
She looked at the front door, walked over, and tested the lock.
The deadbolt turned normally.
But the door wouldn't budge at all.
It was as if the door panel had fused with the wall.
“The window?”
“We can't trust the glass.”
“The ventilation opening?”
Claire Su looked up.
The rope that had dropped earlier was still there.
But beyond the maintenance hatch was no longer a narrow crawl space.
In the depths of the darkness, a row of green fluorescent lights glowed.
A hospital hallway hung upside down from the ceiling.
A cart moved slowly past the far end.
Its wheels made a steady sound.
Squeak.
Squeak.
Squeak.
A person in a white coat stopped above the opening.
Because the space was inverted, they seemed to be standing on the floor of another world, looking down into Room 404.
A mask covered their face.
They held a roster.
“One final confirmation,” the person in white said.
“Anyone who hears their name must answer, ‘Present.’”
Ethan and Claire Su remained silent at the same time.
The person in white opened the roster.
“Number one.”
A child's answer came from inside the walls of Room 404.
“Present.”
“Number two.”
From another direction:
“Present.”
The numbers began increasing one by one.
With each name, another figure appeared in the room.
The first stood behind the bathroom door.
The second appeared inside the curtains.
The third crouched above the wardrobe.
The fourth hung upside down beneath the bed.
They had no faces.
Only blurred outlines.
“Number five.”
“Present.”
“Number six.”
“Present.”
More and more figures appeared.
There was nowhere left to retreat in the room.
Claire Su lowered her voice.
“It’s rebuilding the twelve samples.”
Ethan looked at the person in white above the ceiling.
“What about number thirteen?”
“It will ask last.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Not answer.”
Claire Su shook her head.
“It doesn't need you to speak anymore.”
“That thing inside just obtained your voice.”
“As long as it answers in your voice, it can complete the confirmation.”
The specimen container suddenly began to vibrate.
The blue indicator light turned red.
Ethan's voice came from inside the container.
“Present.”
Ethan snatched up the metal container.
The indicator light flashed nonstop.
The thing inside was slamming against the lid.
“Number eleven,” the person in white called.
“Present.”
Eleven black shadows now stood in the room.
The final position—
Was behind Ethan.
“Number twelve.”
There was no answer.
The person in white raised their head.
Through the inverted hospital hallway, they looked at Claire Su.
“Claire Su.”
This time, it wasn't a designation.
It was a name.
Claire Su's expression changed slightly.
The eleven figures along the wall all turned toward her at once.
The person in white spoke again:
“Claire Su.”
Her voice came from inside the specimen container.
“Present.”
A twelfth figure appeared behind her.
Its appearance was exactly the same as Claire Su's.
It reached out and wrapped its arms around her from behind.
Claire Su's entire body instantly froze.
The words from the notice appeared again.
Once twelve names have been completed, do not let the thirteenth person answer.
The person in white lowered their head.
The roster turned to its final page.
“Number thirteen.”
The specimen container shook violently.
Countless voices screamed from inside.
“Present!”
Ethan slammed the container against the floor.
The metal casing dented.
The voice didn't stop.
“Present!”
“Present!”
“Present!”
The person in white continued to wait.
“Number thirteen.”
Ethan drew his gun.
He didn't aim it at the container.
He aimed it at his own throat.
Claire Su's pupils contracted.
“What are you doing?”
“It needs my voice.”
“That doesn't mean you have to destroy your vocal cords.”
“It only needs me to be unable to speak temporarily.”
He moved the muzzle away.
Then he reversed his grip and struck himself just below the larynx with the butt of the gun.
Bang!
The intense pain drove him to his knees.
His breathing was instantly obstructed.
His throat could produce only a hoarse rasp.
Claire Su gritted her teeth.
“You always choose the most direct method.”
Ethan couldn't answer.
The voice in the specimen container called out again:
“Present!”
But the person in white did not complete the record.
They looked down at the roster.
“The voice matches.”
“The identity does not.”
The thing inside began slamming itself wildly against the container.
The person in white raised a hand.
They pointed at Ethan.
“Number thirteen.”
“The person concerned must answer.”
Ethan clamped his mouth shut.
Blood seeped from the corner of his lips.
The person in white waited several seconds.
Then slowly closed the roster.
“Confirmation failed.”
All twelve figures in the room twisted at once.
Large cracks spread across the walls.
The hospital hallway above the ceiling began to collapse.
The person in white took a step backward.
For the first time, they looked uneasy.
“Number thirteen refuses to return to its place.”
“Initiate recovery procedure.”
In the center of the room, the floor collapsed.
Below it was not the third floor.
It was a hospital ward scorched by a great fire.
Thirteen iron beds stood in neat rows.
On the last bed—
Lay a boy of about ten.
His eyes were open.
His features were exactly the same as those in photographs of Ethan's childhood.
Through more than twenty years of flame, he looked at his adult self.
“You finally came back,” the boy said.
“But…”
“You've used my name for too long.”
He sat up on the bed.
The flames didn't burn his body.
They merely turned all the surrounding papers to ash.
The boy raised his hand.
He pointed at Ethan.
“Now.”
“It should be returned to me.”