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墨書 Inktalez
I felt my legs give way, and I collapsed right at the entrance.
I watched as the Metro Safety Officer anxiously shouted for the passengers to disembark, but they continued with their own activities, ignoring his pleas.
In a corner, a Migrant Worker sat quietly, as if he didn’t exist at all. A Little Girl was still enjoying her candy, smiling sweetly.
Could it be that none of them could hear the Metro Safety Officer?
A ridiculous thought formed in my mind. If I was trapped in a loop, would death be the only way to end it all?
It felt as though something was watching me, or perhaps some force was pulling me against my will, leading me to step off the train.
When I stood outside, I realized that I had truly not looked back. A sense of unprecedented loneliness washed over me.
It dawned on me that each time I looped, I had never turned to see what was happening inside the train. Now, as I watched the Train Door slowly closing, I finally turned to look back.
What I saw made my heart skip a beat. The passengers who had been sitting quietly or arguing suddenly erupted into panic. They cried and shouted, throwing themselves against the glass, pounding on the windows.
Yet the Train Door continued to close at its own pace, unhurried and indifferent.
The announcement continued to play, reminding passengers of the boarding and alighting procedures, as if nothing had happened at all.
As the train pulled away, all I could see were dismembered limbs splattering against the glass from inside.
But what did it matter? Even after getting off, I still couldn’t escape this cycle.
I gazed at everything before me, filled with guilt for my fiancée and daughter. I had promised them that I would be with them for a lifetime.
But now, I find myself breaking my word.
Perhaps I will never escape this cycle.
Unless I can find a way to end it.
Looking at the train before me, my heart is filled with an indescribable complexity.
On the last train, I clearly saw everyone die.
Yet now, they are all sitting there, perfectly fine.
I stand at the station entrance, unable to move.
The train has arrived, just as it always does, coming to a steady stop at the platform edge.
The train door opened as usual.
But I lack the courage to step inside.
Because I see those dead people I once witnessed on the train suddenly come back to life.
I look at my fiancée, the woman who once treated me as sternly as a housekeeper,
now gently patting the mother of a little girl with a tender smile.
A smile she has never shown me before.
I see the migrant worker who desperately pounded on the window in the flames,
now sitting in the corner once again.
I watch the glasses man, who once again grabs his grandmother's hand at a critical moment,
protecting her in front of him.
I see the young couple arguing, repeating their actions yet again.
These scenes play over and over in my mind,
leaving me feeling helpless and guilty.
Suddenly, a spark of inspiration flashes in my mind.
I found all the bombs and rescued everyone.
Isn't it time for the cycle to end?
I don't know; I can only continue to face this endless loop.
The train has arrived once again.
I stepped on board with a pale face.
Exhausted in both body and mind, I truly lacked the courage to face this cycle one more time.
I feared that my body wouldn't hold up until I found a way to end the loop.
Once on the train, I carefully observed everyone in the carriage.
None of them had any luggage.
They were all dressed in thin summer clothing and wearing flip-flops.
Suddenly, it struck me: if the bombs weren't on them, then where could they be?
I pretended to pick up some candy and quickly checked under the seats.
But aside from the mess, I found nothing at all.
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