The void was not black, not white, but an emptiness impossible to describe.It felt like someone had put existence itself on clearance sale, then ripped the label off before checkout.
Ethan clutched the "World Dossier" tightly, step by step walking into this barren Nothingland.Behind him, the collapsing theater still crumbled; the Black Curtain howled like a pack of unemployed directors picketing outside a closed playhouse—shrill, tragic, yet absurdly comical.
"You really plan to run off with that thing?"The voice was familiar, like a joke caught in the throat.
Ethan froze, glanced back—nothing.But the voice continued:"The dossier's just scrap paper. The audience is dead, the stage is rubble. You think carrying the script into the void means you can shoot a sequel?"
Ethan grinned, the grin of a lunatic setting a nuke as an alarm clock."Exactly. The sequel is my escape. I'll make them gag until the very last second."
The ground in the void was strange: both solid and nonexistent, like walking on a badly drawn blueprint.Each step made a clack, as though someone backstage was beating time with a metronome.
His shadow, however, didn't follow.It stood still, hands in pockets, like a rebellious stunt double.
The shadow sighed:"You idiot. An escape scene never leaves the stage."
Ethan hugged the dossier tighter, voice cold:"Then stay behind and bow for me."
He walked on.The shadow was swallowed by nothingness, leaving only a whisper that sounded like a cruel joke:"The audience won't forgive you—even if they're already dead."
—
The void had no borders, yet Ethan reached some sort of end.There floated a single wooden chair.On it sat a corpse in a suit, a broken pen stabbed through its chest.
The corpse's face—was Ethan's own.
"Ah. Finally, you've arrived."The corpse lifted its head, forcing a stiff smile."What you hold, I once carried too. But I never made it out. You know how it goes: when the script ends, the actor dies."
Ethan's throat went dry, ash choking his tongue."You… my future corpse? Or me from another timeline?"
"Neither." The corpse blinked dusty eyes."I'm you, the version that failed to escape. Every Ethan who tries to flee with the dossier ends up as me."
Its lips then split wide, vomiting out yellowed pages.They were identical to Ethan's dossier—except every word was drowned in bloodstains.
Ethan chuckled, like a side character in a cheap comedy bleeding out in his final scene:"Even better. At least it proves countless versions of me keep trying."
The corpse shook its head, sighing:"How ironic. You think it's rebellion. It's just the last punchline in the script."
"Then I'll make it the worst punchline ever." Ethan shoved the dossier into his coat and kicked the corpse into the void.It fell like a deleted PowerPoint slide.
—
The void trembled, displeased by his "escape."From the distance surged countless black silhouettes—bankers, soldiers, judges, clowns.Every ruler humanity had ever known, marching as one.
They roared:"Hand over the dossier! The stage must go on!"
Ethan only hugged it tighter and laughed:"Greedy bastards. The stage has collapsed, yet you still want the script? Fine—chase me! I'll make this escape the one thing you hate most… a dragged-out scene!"
He bolted into the void.It had no direction, yet he ran as if there were a road.The shadows pursued, their cries a grotesque mashup of political speeches and auction chants.
Suddenly, Ethan stopped, turned, and smirked:"Know why I'll win?"
The shadows hesitated.
"Because I'm a terrible actor!" he bellowed."You can't script my improv!"
He ripped out pages from the dossier, scattering them like confetti.The papers morphed into black birds, pecking at the shadows.Their screams sounded like children playing make-believe.
Ethan dove deeper into the void, his laughter swelling louder and louder.
—
No one knew if he'd ever "escape."Perhaps escape itself was his final act.
The curtain was gone, but its shadow lingered in the void.And Ethan, clutching the absurd dossier, kept running on a road with no end.
He knew: there would be no finish line.And that was the perfect way to disgust the Black Curtain.
In the hollow abyss, only his laughter remained:
"Ha—hahaha! Stage? Script? Audience? Screw them all!"