Yuuta's POV
It was a long process, but we finally made it.
For four years, Saki and I had hidden our relationship from our parents. And before you ask why—well, because we were step-siblings. The same age, bound not by blood but by the marriage of our parents. My father had remarried her mother, and at first, we were just happy for them. We never meant to fall in love. But these things… they happen. You don't choose them. They just *are*.
Now, we were both eighteen. Moving away. Starting fresh.
We still hadn't told our parents about us. They were so proud, so *happy* that we'd gotten into the country's top university. We didn't want to ruin that. Not yet.
But one day… we'd have to.
A tap on my shoulder pulled me from my thoughts.
"Yuuta-kun?"
I blinked, reality rushing back. Saki stood before me, her blonde hair catching the sunlight like spun gold, her violet eyes deep enough to drown in.
"Yeah, Saki?" I stammered, shaking off the daze.
"Here's your ticket." She handed it to me, her fingers brushing mine. "The announcer said the train's taking a different route. Heavy rain flooded the tracks." She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I wish we could've walked, but… Tokyo's too big."
"Thanks." I took the ticket, offering her a small smile. "Don't worry. We'll get there soon. Let's go."
She nodded, and together, we stepped toward the train. The doors slid open with a quiet hiss, revealing a sleek, modern interior—spotless, almost too polished. Our seats, 11-A and 12-A, were side by side.
"Here we are." Saki settled in quickly, and I followed, dropping into the seat beside her.
For a moment, silence stretched between us. Then, softly, she spoke again.
"Do you think… we're doing the right thing, Yuuta-kun?" Her gaze dropped, fingers fidgeting in her lap.
I exhaled slowly. "It's… complicated. We didn't choose to be step-siblings. We didn't choose to fall in love. But it happened." My hand found hers, squeezing gently. "I don't know if it's right… but with you, everything feels right, Saki."
She lifted her eyes to mine, searching, before finally resting her head against my shoulder.
"I just… don't want to take my mom's happiness away," she murmured. "After everything, I don't want to cause her more pain. But at the same time…" Her voice wavered. "I can't stand the thought of seeing you with someone else."
The weight of it all pressed down—the secrecy, the guilt, the longing. But there was hope, too.
"Don't worry." I said it like a vow. "Everything will be fine."
And for now, that was enough.
The train lurched forward, its wheels humming against the tracks. For a moment, everything seemed normal—until a little girl, no older than five, stumbled and fell at the feet of a thuggish man.
"Can't you watch where you're going, brat?" The man loomed over her, flanked by two equally rough-looking friends. His lip curled as the girl shrank back. "Maybe we should teach you some manners."
He raised his hand, fingers coiled into a slap—
"Wait!"
A woman in her late twenties rushed forward, her long raven hair swaying as she scooped the child into her arms. "I'm so sorry—she's just a baby. Please, it was an accident." She cradled the girl, soothing her before tears could fall.
The thug's smirk widened. "Oh? A pretty single mom who can't control her kid? Maybe you need a lesson too."His friends chuckled, cracking their knuckles.
The woman's grip tightened around her daughter. "Excuse me? You're making a scene over nothing—and now you're insulting me?"
One of the thugs stepped forward, fist clenched—
"That's enough."
A young man in military dress stood, his posture rigid. "You're violating public order. This 'lesson' of yours is just assault."
The thug's friend scoffed. "She disturbed us first! That's against the law!"
"Ah, yes. The law." A silver-haired woman leaned against a seat, twirling a cigarette between her fingers. Her skin was pale as moonlight, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Tell me, which school taught you that? The gutter?"
The thug's face flushed. "You—! You're smoking on the train and mocking us?"
She flicked the cigarette at him. "Relax, genius. It's a prop. But then again..." Her eyes raked over them. "I shouldn't expect critical thinking from street trash."
"You bitch—!" One lunged—only for the soldier to intercept, driving a knee into his gut. The second thug moved to retaliate, but their leader grabbed his arm.
"Look around, idiot."
The train had gone silent. Every passenger—me, Saki, elderly couples, salarymen—glared at them with open disgust.
The thug swallowed. "...We're sorry." A retreat, not out of remorse, but fear of being outnumbered.
The raven-haired mother bowed deeply. "Thank you—both of you."
The soldier nodded. "Just doing my duty."
The silver-haired woman crouched, pinching the little girl's cheek. "No need for thanks. She's adorable. What's your name, kiddo?"
"Yui!" the girl chirped, beaming as if the confrontation had never happened.
"Yui, huh? Fits you. I am Yuki" The woman—Yuki—ruffled her hair. "Stay close to your mom, okay?"
Then—
A violent jolt. The train screeched to a halt at a station that shouldn't exist. No signs. No announcements. Just an empty platform swallowed by brooding clouds.
The lights flickered.
Something was very, very wrong.
The train shuddered to an unnatural stop. Saki's fingers dug into my arm.
"Yuuta-kun, w-what was that?" Her voice trembled.
"I don't know." I peered through the window at the deserted platform. "We just stopped at a station, but..."
"But there's no one outside. And the announcer didn't say anything." Saki completed my thought, her brow furrowed.
Around us, murmurs of confusion rippled through the carriage. An old man near the window suddenly gasped, his wrinkled hands pressing against the glass.
"N-no... it can't be..."
A teenage boy - probably his grandson - grabbed his arm. "Hey, Gramps! Watch out, you'll fall!"
The old couple behind them leaned forward. "Are you all right?" the woman asked.
The old man shook his head, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Something is wrong. Very wrong..."
The grandson forced an apologetic smile. "Sorry, my grandfather's old, so—"
"I may be old, but I'm not senile!" the man snapped, drawing everyone's attention. "Look outside! Read the station name!"
Yuki, the silver-haired woman, rolled her eyes. "You're trying to start a panic, old man."
"Young people know nothing," he muttered. His grandson bowed apologetically, but Yuki just sighed.
"What do you mean, then?" she challenged, arms crossed.
The old woman spoke now, her voice quivering. "The station... it's Mujina Station."
A beat of silence.
"So what?" Yuki scoffed.
Most passengers watched the exchange with detached curiosity - entertainment while we waited for the conductor to explain our unscheduled stop. Then the old woman continued, and her words turned my blood to ice.
"This station was demolished forty years ago. They destroyed the tracks too. It shouldn't exist." She swallowed hard. "And we were heading to Tokyo... so why are we in the mountains?"
A chill ran through the carriage. Yuki, the soldier, Yui's mother, Saki and I - we all turned to the windows. Sure enough, shadowy peaks loomed where cityscapes should have been.
"They're telling the truth."
All heads swiveled toward a man in his thirties - sharp-eyed, with the weary look of someone who'd seen too much. "I'm Ken Yamura, a journalist. I've researched this station. It was a major hub to Osaka... until landslides killed dozens. The government sealed it off decades ago."
The air grew thick with unease. Then—
*Click.*
The intercom crackled to life.
"Welcome to the game, dear players." A mechanized voice oozed through the speakers. "The rules are simple: survive the games and win fifty billion yen."
The compartment door shimmered, transforming into a massive screen displaying sixty faces - all of us passengers.
A collective gasp filled the air.
Saki's hand found mine, her grip vise-tight.
The carriage erupted into chaos after the announcement. Passengers shouted over each other, some demanding answers while others simply sat frozen in shock.
The thug who had caused trouble earlier slammed his fist against the compartment wall. "This is bullshit!" he yelled. His two friends stood behind him, faces twisted in anger.
One of them kicked the door hard, making several passengers flinch. "What kind of sick prank is this? We've got important shit to do!"
The mic crackled again, its mechanical voice cutting through the noise as if the thugs hadn't spoken at all.
"Rules clarification: Only seven winners will receive fifty billion yen each. Fail a game and you will be erased. Attempt to leave the train and..." The voice paused dramatically. "Well, let's just say the outside isn't safe anymore the monsters are rooming around."
The thug barked out a laugh. "You think we're scared of your monster stories?" He turned to his friends. "If this piece of junk isn't moving, we're out of here."
"Yeah, like we're gonna believe in fairy tale monsters," the first friend sneered.
"Let's go," the second said, already moving toward the door.
Before anyone could stop them, the three men shoved their way to the exit and stepped onto the dark platform.
The moment their feet touched the ground outside, every window in the train turned pitch black, as if coated in ink.
A whisper of movement—too fast to see clearly—and then—
Three sickening thuds as their heads hit the platform. Their bodies stood frozen for a second before collapsing like marionettes with cut strings.
From the darkness beyond the windows, hunched shapes emerged—dog-like creatures with too many joints in their legs, their matted fur glistening under the dim station lights. They dragged the headless bodies away with terrifying efficiency, their jaws snapping audibly.
The train doors remained open, but none of the creatures crossed the threshold.
No one screamed. The silence in the carriage was absolute.
Yui's mother had instinctively pulled the little girl against her chest, one hand covering the child's eyes. The girl squirmed slightly but didn't make a sound.
The screen at the front flickered.
Where sixty faces had been displayed moments before, now there were only fifty-seven. The photos of the three men darkened, their images dripping with what looked like digital blood before being crossed out with a thick black X.
The mic crackled back to life.
"Let that serve as a demonstration," the voice said pleasantly. "Now then—shall we begin the first game?"