The train moved slowly along the tracks, carrying dozens of exhausted people inside its crowded cars.
Seina sat beside the window with her arms folded tightly against herself, staring at her faint reflection in the glass. Afternoon sunlight slipped through the thin curtains in uneven strips, spreading warm light across the floor.
The air conditioning barely worked.
The car smelled like heated fabric, old coffee, and sweat.
A man in a wrinkled suit slept in the seat ahead of her, his head swaying slightly with every turn. Nearby, a woman rubbed her wrist while staring blankly at her phone. Two students leaned against each other near the door, half asleep.
Everyone looked tired.
Tired from work.
From school.
From living.
The entire train carried a quiet kind of exhaustion.
Seina watched them without truly seeing them.
The sound of the tracks echoed rhythmically beneath her.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
Steady.
Endless.
For a brief moment, it reminded her of the loop.
Repeated days.
Repeated deaths.
Repeated mistakes.
Her chest tightened.
She lowered her gaze toward her lap, fingers gripping the strap of her backpack harder than she realized. Only when her knuckles began to ache did she loosen her hand.
The past three days barely felt real anymore.
Her parents were dead.
Even now, the thought felt distant, disconnected from reality. She remembered the news report. The yellow police tape. The image of the apartment building.
But none of it felt attached to her.
Like it had happened to someone else.
The train slowed as it approached another station. A robotic announcement echoed overhead while passengers quietly gathered their belongings. Some stepped out. Others entered.
More tired faces.
The car became crowded again.
Seina leaned her head against the window.
The glass felt warm.
She closed her eyes for only a second.
That was enough.
Images immediately surfaced in her mind.
Her mother standing silently in the kitchen.
Her father driving without speaking.
Blood.
Her stomach twisted violently.
She opened her eyes at once.
Breathe.
She tried inhaling slowly, but something felt wrong. The train suddenly seemed too hot. Too small.
The sound of the rails became louder.
Someone coughed nearby, and Seina flinched hard enough to surprise herself. Her heartbeat quickened instantly.
Sweat gathered behind her neck.
Maybe it was just exhaustion.
Maybe it was stress.
Then she looked down at her hands.
Blood.
Dark red liquid covered her fingers for a single horrifying second, dripping slowly between the lines of her palms.
Seina jerked backward sharply.
Air caught in her throat.
She blinked.
Gone.
Her hands were clean.
Nobody around her reacted.
She stayed frozen for several seconds, struggling to steady her breathing.
Not real.
Of course it wasn't real.
She pressed a hand against her face.
She just needed sleep.
That was all.
When she looked forward again, an older woman across the aisle was staring at her with faint concern. Seina immediately looked away.
Her pulse kept rising.
Focus on something else.
The announcements.
The movement of the train.
Anything normal.
But then she noticed her reflection in the window again.
Her body stiffened.
Her shirt was stained red.
Blood slowly spread beneath her ribs exactly where the knife had entered days earlier.
Seina grabbed the fabric immediately.
Clean.
The white shirt trembled between her fingers.
Pain followed a second later.
Phantom pain.
A sharp stab beneath her ribs made her inhale suddenly.
Malori.
The girl's cold expression flashed across her memory.
The knife.
The impact.
The warmth of blood.
Seina instinctively pressed her hand against her abdomen.
There was no wound anymore.
But her body remembered.
The train continued moving normally while her breathing became shorter and shorter.
Voices around her blurred together. Quiet conversations. The metallic sound of the rails. Another automated announcement.
Everything blended into noise.
Her chest tightened painfully.
She looked around.
Were people staring at her?
Two students whispered near the doors.
A man scrolled through his phone.
The woman beside the window yawned quietly.
Nobody cared.
Then why did it feel like everyone knew?
"Daughter is the prime suspect…"
The words cut through her mind.
Nausea rose instantly.
She tried breathing deeper.
The reflection in the glass moved.
Seina looked too quickly.
For one terrible moment, there was a knife in her hand.
Covered in blood.
A small sound escaped her throat as she recoiled violently against the seat.
Several passengers looked over.
The knife disappeared.
Her hand was empty.
But now people really were staring.
The older woman frowned slightly. A teenage boy removed one earbud, confused by Seina's reaction.
Only then did she realize how loudly she was breathing.
She stood up abruptly.
Her backpack nearly slipped from her shoulder as she pushed through the narrow aisle. The doors were still closed.
The train began slowing.
The seconds felt unbearably long.
Finally, the doors slid open.
Seina stepped out too quickly, nearly colliding with a man trying to enter.
Heat slammed into her instantly.
Heavy.
Suffocating.
She stopped on the platform and pulled in air sharply, bending forward slightly while trying to steady herself.
The train departed moments later, leaving only the fading metallic noise behind.
Seina remained still.
Sweat rolled slowly down her neck.
The station was small and mostly empty beneath the harsh midday sun. Bright light reflected off the concrete so intensely it almost hurt her eyes.
She pressed a hand against her stomach again.
No blood.
No wound.
Just her mind falling apart.
After a while, she walked toward a bench near the exit and sat down heavily.
Everything felt exhausting now.
Her body.
Her thoughts.
Even breathing.
She stared at the ground for several silent moments before the thoughts returned again.
Her parents.
The news report.
The apartment.
She remembered the arguments.
The shouting through closed doors. The tense silences during dinner. Her mother constantly looking one bad day away from breaking apart.
Her father wasn't much different.
Especially after the move.
They tried to act normal around her, but the cracks had been there for years.
Still—
Dead.
Seina closed her eyes.
"If I had stayed…"
The thought came naturally.
But another thought followed immediately.
"I still would've left."
Because of Thalya.
Her chest tightened painfully again.
Even now, after everything, she was still going to Mokpo.
Still chasing her.
Still choosing her.
She opened her eyes slowly and searched through her backpack for the remaining money she had taken from her father's wallet.
Not much.
Definitely not enough.
No more trains.
No buses.
She stared at the bills for a moment before stuffing them back inside.
Then she laughed quietly.
A hollow sound without humor.
Three days ago, she still had a home.
Now she was a murder suspect walking between cities for the sake of a dead girl.
Warm wind crossed the station, carrying the smell of burning asphalt beneath the afternoon sun.
Seina stood again.
Her legs hurt immediately.
Her shoulders ached beneath the backpack straps.
But she started walking anyway.
The road stretched endlessly ahead beneath the brutal heat of midday. Cars occasionally passed by while cicadas screamed somewhere in the distance.
Mokpo was still far away.
But that didn't matter.
She would keep walking.
Even if she had nowhere left to return to.