A Wink?
I stood in front of the train doors, slack-jawed. Stupid, stunned—whatever word fits. My brain had short-circuited.
The train's metal shell rattled again, groaning as it accelerated along its eerie, ghost-lit tracks. It didn't feel like movement anymore. It felt like we were being dragged.
Most of the group had frozen the same way I had, but their faces weren't just confused—they were mortified. The redhead, his fiery hair clashing with the pale horror in his face, was visibly trembling. His eyes jittered like a busted screen.
Silence stretched in the train car, taut and unnatural. Only the shallow breathing of terrified students broke it. You'd think we'd be used to death by now. We'd seen it—hell, we'd watched people die in grotesque, unnatural ways. Gore, acid, that one guy who got turned inside out like a meat balloon. You name it.
But those deaths? They were absurd. Surreal. So over-the-top they almost felt fictional. And fiction is safe. We rationalize. We escape. We hide behind the logic of the unreal. Some of us escape through stories; others impose their will on reality and call it ambition.
But this wasn't ambition. Mei shattered that shield. She made it personal. She bent the rules. She committed murder—real, close-up, raw.
Yujin's blood was still cooling in the air, and the sterile, otherworldly light of the train made everything feel even more wrong. Like we were in some twisted funeral home where no one dared cry.
Something was nagging at me. Clawing at the inside of my skull.
"I understand it," I muttered.
My voice sliced through the mortuary-stale air, and all heads turned.
"I think I understand now. There is a way out. And it's not some cheap treasure hunt."
They looked at me—what was left of them. Red, puffy eyes. Tear tracks drying on dirty cheeks. Mei's murder had finally forced the truth to settle in: we were not going to wake up. Not unless we found a way.
"Huh? Like that blue-eyed bastard? Go die already and stop pretending," someone spat.
"Yeah, why should we trust you?" added a tall, bronze-skinned boy—Noah, I think. American. We all introduced ourselves after Mei did. Fat lot of good that did her.
"Wait, guys—hear him out," PK croaked. He stood up, shaking, the only one defending me. "Better than starving and rotting here…"
"I don't want trust," I said, my voice low but steady. "I want you to listen. Whether you live or die isn't my call. It's yours."
Seven sets of confused eyes flicked between each other. PK had already committed.
"Go a… ahead then," the redhead mumbled. His name was on the tip of my tongue, but kept slipping away.
"From what we've seen, if you get off at the wrong station, you die. So logically, there must be a right one, right?"
I paused. No one interrupted. The train continued rattling in the background, the sound somehow louder in the silence.
"Well… not exactly. Let me ask you something. What's the destination of your life?"
"To get a job and be happy?" PK answered, voice uncertain.
"To get laid," the redhead said, zero shame.
"To have a family," someone else murmured.
"Sure. Those are goals. But are they the destination? You could live as a king or die poor. But in the end, the destination's the same for everyone."
"Death," PK whispered.
I nodded. "Exactly. Everyone who got off the train died. Different methods, same result. All except one."
I looked around.
"Why was she different? The lost item request? Maybe. But no… Yujin had blue eyes. Her blonde hair was dyed, sure, but look closely—her roots were black. She didn't meet the criteria. Yet Mei lived. Why?"
Silence. Just the train groaning forward and our mismatched breathing.
"She got off at the wrong station. But think—each station has a noun. Joy. Sorrow. Sloth. They mean something. They shape what happens."
"The one who stepped off at Joy got his brain scrambled in bliss. The guy who got off at Sorrow wept until he drowned in his own regret. Literal or not, doesn't matter."
I stepped forward, my hand clenched.
"So what if… what if we manipulate it? What if we force the opposite of the emotion the station's tied to? What if we define ourselves before the station does?"
A mechanical chime sliced through the air like a guillotine.
["Next station: Ecstasy Haven. Please mind the gap. Disembark if this is your destination."]
Perfect timing. The robotic voice was cold, final. It almost mocked me.
Through the grimy windows, the station grew in the distance—a flickering smear of neon pinks and purples, wavy floors and crooked signs. It looked more like an anime strip club than a train stop. Unreal. But deadly.
The group slowly stood. Still hesitant. Still shaken. But they stood with me.
["Stand clear. Doors opening. Please mind the gap."]
I expected them to leave me. Let me die alone. But one by one, they followed, stepping onto the illusionary floor.
It took a while for all of them to move. Their faces were pale but… resigned. Like they were preparing for execution.
["Stand clear. Doors closing."]
My palms were sweaty.
Am I ready?
I have to be.
I will live. I'll save them if I can. That's the difference between me and Mei.
Clenching my fist, I took a deep breath and turned toward the group . silent. I stood in front of them without uttering a word, only giving a soft smile that hasn't even reached my eyes. Thinking inwardly
I'm not like her, I'm going to save you. That's all there is to it…
Okay?