As the nagging sense of familiarity grew stronger, Damien finally succumbed to his curiosity.
"Have we met before?" he asked.
Felix's gaze drifted from the screen to meet his. His golden eyes were clinical and calm, reminiscent of winter sunlight reflecting off a frozen lake.
"No."
The denial was absolute—a door slammed shut. Felix immediately returned his attention to his task, as if the exchange had never occurred.
He was fully aware of Damien's inquisitive stare but chose to meet it with a wall of indifference.
Silence reclaimed the cabin, broken only by the low, rhythmic hum of the Santa Express.
Realizing the man was a fortress he couldn't yet breach, Damien let out a soft, resigned sigh. He reached into his bag and withdrew a worn, brown, leather-bound volume.
Countless readings had cracked its spine and softened its edges. Felix's eyes caught the title embossed on the cover:
[History of the Holy Kingdom of Mohen]
Felix's gaze then flickered to the sword resting against the seat. Just as Damien was about to lose himself in the pages, he felt the weight of that silent observation.
He looked up, catching Felix eyeing the blade at his hip, and a slightly embarrassed smile touched his lips.
"Does my sword stand out that much?"
Felix offered no expression, letting the question hang in the air. An uncomfortable, heavy silence followed.
Clearing his throat softly to mask his embarrassment, Damien lowered his head back to his book, trying to erase the awkward moment from his mind.
Peace settled over the compartment once more, filled only by the faint rumble of the tracks and the crisp rustle of turning pages.
Both men were absorbed in their respective worlds when a sudden, jagged disturbance shivered through the air.
Damien snapped his head up. One look at the sharp intensity in Felix's eyes told him that the other man had felt it too.
What was that?
Damien glanced out the window as an icy dread crawled into his chest. The surroundings had fallen into an unnatural, suffocating stillness. The very air felt heavy, pregnant with a looming threat.
"Something... something is wrong."
At that exact moment, the train lurched violently. A powerful jolt ripped through the carriage, followed by a deafening explosion that shattered the silence.
The cabin swayed precariously, tilting to one side as the agonizing screech of metal against the rails filled the air.
Damien white-knuckled his armrest to keep from being thrown, while across from him, Felix's brow furrowed into a dark scowl as he braced himself for the impact.
"Something... something is wrong," Damien murmured.
At that exact moment, the train lurched violently. A deafening explosion ripped through the air, and the entire cabin shuddered under a brutal force.
The carriage tilted dangerously, metal grinding against the rails with a bone-chilling screech.
Damien gripped his armrest to keep from being thrown, while across from him, Felix had already braced himself, his brow furrowed in a dark, focused scowl.
"What the hell is happening?!" Damien shouted over the roar.
With a last scream of steel against steel, the train slammed back onto the tracks, the high-pitched friction ringing painfully in their ears.
Felix didn't answer. Instead, his attention shifted upward—to the heavy, rapid thuds echoing along the roof. Someone was moving up there, fast and purposefully.
His eyes narrowed as he checked the time on his wristwatch. A moment later, the sharp crash of shattering glass erupted from the front compartments, followed closely by the jagged sound of screams.
"It's a raid," Felix said, his voice dropping to a freezing edge as he finally looked at Damien.
"A raid?" Damien's frown deepened in disbelief. "On a Kingdom transport?"
"Most of the passengers here are wealthy," Felix noted coldly. "It's prime bait for the bandit gangs of the Seplika Mountains."
It was a known plague—remnants of those who had fled Bone City five years ago. To survive, they haunted the mountain routes, looting what they could before vanishing into the brutal highlands.
The Avalon Wardens had attempted to purge them several times, but the jagged terrain made them nearly impossible to eradicate.
Still... to attack a train flying the colors of the Holy Kingdom? They've grown far too bold, Damien thought, his hand instinctively moving toward his hilt.
"What's the plan?"
Felix met his gaze without a flicker of hesitation. "For now, we leave this cabin and assess the situation."
He needed to leave that compartment before the attackers reached it. If that person were among them, Felix wasn't certain he could win—not with his current strength.
His sharp eyes flicked back to Damien, noting the young noble's calculating expression. This didn't feel like a simple robbery; the scale was too large, the timing too precise. This was a terrorist strike.
"By the way," Damien said suddenly as they rose to their feet, "my name is Damien Lionheart. May I ask yours?"
Again?
Felix looked at him with an unreadable expression. No matter how many times the cycle repeated, no matter how many times he returned to the past... this was always the moment they met.
"... Felix Valois," he said at last.
Damien followed Felix as he slid the cabin door open. They stepped into the corridor and encountered an eerie, skin-crawling silence instead of the frantic chaos they had braced for.
"It's too quiet," Damien whispered, his voice barely audible. "There isn't a single sound in this entire carriage."
Felix scanned the length of the passage. Empty. The passengers were likely huddling behind their doors, putting their faith in the magical wards of the luxury cabins.
But Felix knew better; against the forces currently dismantling the train, those wards were nothing more than gilded cages.
In a raid of this scale, staying put did not differ from putting your neck under the blade.
The strategy was simple: put as much distance as possible between themselves and the epicenter of the attack. Yet, it was inconceivable that the terrorists from the front cars hadn't reached this sector.
On a high-tier liner like the Santa Express, emergency beacons would have already flared, but reinforcements were a dawn-sent hope. Survival was a game measured in minutes, and Felix intended to win it.