last stop.

the conductor

The noodle shop was nestled on a quiet corner of the street, the steam from boiling pots rising into the cool night air. Neon lights flickered lazily above, casting a dim, melancholic glow over the faded red stools lined against the shop's counter. The scent of broth and spices filled the space, drawing in the few stragglers who wandered the streets at this late hour. 

Emi Everest sat next to the unnamed conductor, her eyes glancing nervously at the crumpled ticket in her hand as she placed it down on the counter between them. It still felt unreal to her, the events of the night. 

A ticket? A man claiming to work for a soulmate train? It sounded like something out of a dream, but here they were.

The conductor's face was shadowed under the streetlight, his hands trembling slightly as they held the bowl of noodles in front of him. He had barely touched the food. His mind raced, overwhelmed with fragments of memories and the weight of explaining the impossible. He stared at the steam rising from the bowl, avoiding Emi's curious eyes.

"Tell me," she said softly, as if afraid to disrupt the fragile moment. "What exactly is the Bound Line Express?"

He sighed, the weight of centuries pressing down on his chest. He still didn't know his own name, but this—this was something he understood far too well. "It's a train," he began slowly, turning his gaze toward the ticket on the counter. "A train that leads you to your soulmate's universe, if you have one."

Emi's lips parted slightly, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Woah. A different universe?"

The conductor nodded. "It's not like ours. Not exactly. It's almost like a mirror. The person you were meant to meet, in another time, another place." He paused, his eyes distant, "It's beautiful if you find the right person. But not everyone does."

Emi's fingers traced the edges of the ticket, her heart fluttering with both curiosity and fear. "But why me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The conductor shook his head. "It's not about 'why' you. It's not something you can choose. The train chooses. Fate chooses."

"And if there's no one for me on the other side?" Her voice was fragile, like she already knew the answer, and it scared her.

"I don't know what happens to them," he replied, staring down at his hands. "But it leaves you somewhere you can never return from."

A silence fell between them. The sound of the city's bustle in the background felt miles away, almost muted. Emi's heart raced with the weight of the story. Everything he said felt too surreal, but the worn-out look on his face, the fear in his voice—it was too real to ignore.

She studied him quietly, noticing the slight tremor in his hands, the dark circles under his eyes, the haunted look that hadn't left him since they met. He had escaped something that wasn't supposed to be escapable, and yet here he was, sitting beside her in a noodle shop. He was living proof of the Bound Line's existence, whether she wanted to believe it or not.

"Why don't you want me to go?" she asked suddenly, her voice firmer now.

He flinched at her question. "Because it's not worth it. It's not what you think it is. You can't force love, and chasing it through that train... it destroys you. You could lose everything—yourself, your world—and end up somewhere you're not meant to be."

She leaned back, her gaze softening as she took in his exhaustion, his desperation. "But what if I do have a soulmate?" she asked quietly.

The conductor clenched his jaw, his fists tightening. "I've watched so many people try," he said, his voice thick with pain. "Most of them didn't come back. And the ones who did..." His voice trailed off as the memories surfaced—broken people, hollowed out by the journey, stripped of hope. "You don't want to be one of them."

Emi sat in silence for a long moment, absorbing his words. The Bound Line sounded like a curse disguised as a gift, and yet, the ticket felt heavy in her hand, like it was pulling her towards something she couldn't ignore. "I don't know what to believe," she admitted, staring at the flickering neon sign outside the shop.

The conductor exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. "Believe me," he said softly, his voice almost pleading. "Please, don't go looking for something that may not even exist."

She bit her lip, torn between the eerie sense of fate and the rational part of her mind telling her to walk away. But something about his fear made her hesitate.

"Where are you staying?" she asked suddenly.

He blinked, as if the question had never even crossed his mind. "I don't know," he admitted. "I've been wandering since I got here."

Emi frowned. "You're not from around here, are you?" she asked, though the answer was obvious.

He shook his head. "Not anymore. This is not the world I remember, if I do have any memory."

She glanced back at him, her eyes softening as she took in his lost expression. "I have a place," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "It's not much, but it's better than wandering the streets. You can stay until you figure out what to do next."

The conductor stared at her, the weight of her kindness settling on him like a warm blanket in the cold night. He nodded slowly, unable to find the words to thank her.

For the first time in centuries, he felt something new—hope?