The night felt unusually quiet.
As Izumi stepped back into his hostel room, the faint hum of the ceiling fan greeted him like an old companion. The same cracked walls, the same unmade bed, the same flickering tube light… yet everything felt different now.
Because this time—he had a plan.
He dropped his bag beside the bed and let himself fall onto the mattress, staring blankly at the ceiling.
"Seoul…"
The word echoed in his mind, unfamiliar yet exciting.
A small smile formed on his lips.
"Let's see what kind of story you have for me," he murmured softly.
______________________
The next morning came faster than expected.
"Oi, Izumi! You alive or dead?" a voice called out, followed by loud knocking.
Izumi groaned, pulling the blanket over his head
"Dead… come back later…"
The door burst open anyway.
"Too bad," said Mark, stepping in like he owned the place.
"Dead people still have exams."
Izumi peeked out from under the blanket, glaring. "You're way too energetic for someone who failed math last term."
"That was strategic failure,"
Mark replied confidenly.
"Yeah, strategically embarrassing."
________________________
Days passed like pages flipping too quickly.
Classes blurred into each other.
Notes, lectures, late-night revisions—it all became a routine.
Yet beneath all of it, something else kept Izumi going.
Anticipation.
Every time he checked his phone, every time he glanced at the calendar, his heart would beat just a little faster.
And then—
Exams began.
________________________
The exam hall was suffocating.
Rows of students, the scratching of pens, the ticking clock on the wall—it all felt like a battlefield.
Izumi tapped his pen against the desk, staring at the question paper.
"This is easy…"
A small smirk appeared.
A few seats away, Mark looked like he was fighting for his life.
Their eyes met for a brief second.
Mark mouthed, "I'm dying."
Izumi simply looked away.
"Not my problem."
_________________________
Days later, it was over.
Just like that.
The last paper ended, and a strange silence followed.
No pressure, no deadlines—just freedom.
Students cheered, laughed, and rushed out of the hall like prisoners escaping.
Mark stretched dramatically. "I can finally feel my Tokyo again."
"You had one?" Izumi replied dryly.
"Very funny."
Izumi pulled out his phone.
He called Goutham and asked him to come to his hostel.
Izumi went back to his hostel, threw his bag on his bed and then someone knocked his door.
"You may come in."Izumi told.
Goutham entered the room and put the snacks which he had brought with him on the table.
"…Let's book it."
Goutham blinked. "Wait—you're serious?, I just came in."
Izumi looked at him, calm but determined.
"Yeah."
A pause.
Then Goutham grinned.
"Then what are we waiting for?!"
_________________________
That evening, they sat side by side, staring at the glowing screen.
Destination: Seoul.
Departure: Confirmed.
Tickets: Booked.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
It felt unreal.
"We're actually doing this…"
Goutham whispered.
Izumi nodded slightly.
"No turning back now."
________________________
The day arrived sooner than expected.
The station was alive with noise.
Vendors shouting, trains screeching, people rushing in every direction—it was chaos, yet somehow… exciting.
Izumi adjusted his backpack, scanning the crowd.
"Don't get lost," he said.
Goutham scoffed. "Please. I'm the one who should be worried about you."
"Right."
A loud announcement echoed across the station.
Their train had arrived.
______________________
They stepped inside, the cool air brushing against their faces.
The compartment was lively—
families chatting, children laughing, the rhythmic sound of movement already beginning.
Izumi took a window seat.
As the train slowly began to move, he rested his chin on his hand, watching the platform drift away.
"This is it."
The journey had begun.
_______________________
"Oi, you're being way too quiet," Goutham said, dropping into the seat beside him. "This is supposed to be exciting!"
"I am excited."
"You look like you're attending a funeral."
Izumi sighed. "I just don't scream every time I feel something."
"Tragic personality."
_________________________
Time passed easily after that.
They bought snacks from passing vendors, argued over which food was better, and laughed over things that didn't even make sense.
At one point—
"Give that back."
"No."
"That's mine!"
"You should've protected it better."
"That's my last Cake!"
"Not anymore."
________________________
Later, they wandered between compartments, observing people, making up random stories about strangers.
"That guy looks like a secret agent," Goutham whispered.
"He looks like someone who forgot his luggage."
"Same thing."
________________________
As evening approached, the sky outside turned golden.
Izumi leaned against the window, watching the world blur past—fields, buildings, distant lights.
For the first time in a while, everything felt… peaceful.
No pressure.
No expectations.
Just movement.
Just the journey.
Goutham stretched and yawned.
"You think Seoul's gonna be different?"
Izumi didn't answer immediately.
His reflection stared back at him through the glass.
"…Yeah," he finally said.
A faint smile appeared.
"I think everything's about to change."
________________________
The train continued forward, cutting through the fading light.
And somewhere ahead—
A new story was waiting.
__________________________
Night settled in quietly.
Most of the passengers had fallen asleep. The once lively compartment was now filled with soft breathing and the occasional rattle of the tracks.
Izumi opened his eyes.
"…Can't sleep, huh…" he muttered.
Across from him, Goutham was completely knocked out, his head tilted awkwardly, mouth slightly open.
"Unbelievable…"
Izumi sighed and stood up.
"I'll just get some air…"
_______________________
The corridor was dimly lit.
Each step echoed faintly as the train swayed gently. Outside the window, darkness stretched endlessly, broken only by distant flickers of light.
Izumi walked slowly, hands in his pockets.
Something felt… off.
He stopped.
"…?"
For a brief moment, he thought he heard footsteps behind him.
He turned.
No one.
The corridor was empty.
"…Guess I'm just tired."
He continued walking.
________________________
As he passed one of the compartment doors—
He noticed something strange.
A reflection.
In the dark glass of the window, behind him—
Someone was standing there.
Izumi froze.
Slowly… he turned around.
Nothing.
The corridor was still empty.
His heartbeat quickened.
"…What was that?"
________________________
He let out a breath, trying to calm himself.
"Get a grip…"
But just as he turned to leave—
His phone vibrated.
_______________________
Unknown Number
A message.
Izumi frowned.
"At this time…?"
He opened it.
_______________________
"You shouldn't have come to Seoul."
__________________________
His expression hardened.
"…What?"
Another message arrived instantly.
"Turn back while you still can."
_________________________
A chill ran down his spine.
Izumi quickly typed:
"Who is this?
No reply.
He tried calling.
The number didn't exist.
_______________________
"…This isn't funny."
He looked around again, more carefully this time.
The silence felt heavier now.
Like he wasn't alone anymore.
Then—
From the far end of the corridor—
A figure.
Standing still.
Watching him.
Izumi narrowed his eyes.
"…Hey!"
No response.
The figure didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Just stood there.
The train lights flickered.
Just once.
For a split second—
Darkness.
And when the lights came back—
The figure was gone.
________________________
Izumi stood there, completely still.
His phone buzzed again.
Another message.
"We're already watching you."
For the first time since the journey began—
Izumi felt it.
Not excitement.
Not curiosity.
But something far more dangerous.
Fear
_______________________
Back in his seat, Goutham shifted in his sleep, completely unaware.
"…Seoul, huh…" Izumi whispered under his breath.
His grip tightened around his phone.
"…What did we just walk into?"