The pack clicked under Konin’s thumb until a cigarette nudged free. He caught it between his teeth, struck a match from his wallet; the flame flared, carving shadows beneath his cheekbones. He cupped his hands against the breeze, drew until the tip glowed, and exhaled a slow, ghost‑white ribbon. He stubbed the match and crossed to a payphone that rose from the sidewalk like an oversized smartphone, slicing the dark.
Nine feet of brushed aluminum and glass stood tall, cycling ads bathing the alcove in sterile, shifting light. Konin’s shoes squeaked on wet asphalt as he stepped into the glow. A recessed cradle hummed at waist height; its white screen woke when he tapped it, presenting a minimalist dialer and icons for free Wi‑Fi, maps, and USB fast charging.
He dialed. The screen went blue: connecting… A soft rhythm filled the speakers. He smoked and watched the machine, exhaling toward the small camera above the display.
The music cut. “Hello?” His mother’s voice, taut with relief.
“Hey, Mum.”
“Where have you been? I’ve been calling you all day.”
“Sorry—my phone died.”
“Where are you?”
He opened the map. “Wilter Street.”
“I’m on my way. Don’t go anywhere.”
“I’ll just take the train back. I’ll be home i—”
“NO!” She shouted, then softened. “No. Stay by the payphone. I’ll be there soon.”
Konin pinched his eyelids. “Mum, listen—” He waited. “Mum?”
A siren split the night. Heads snapped up toward bright orange neon hovering along the traffic lights. The payphone’s voice cut in, flat and clinical: "Alert! Alert!" Large amounts of radiation detected. Please evacuate the area. The announcement bloomed across every screen and speaker on the street.
People shifted—some bolted, some froze. Konin blew his cig away without thinking, then he saw her: fair skin, long dark hair tucked under a hood, face in shadow. When she turned, the tips of her hair flared red and her eyes caught the streetlight.
She smiled—he could have sworn she smiled—just before a deafening roar tore through the asphalt and the ground pitched. He dropped, forehead scraping pavement, fingers finding the payphone for balance as dust and smoke poured from the street. Screams rode the rumble; masonry tumbled; flames licked the sky.
He crawled beneath fallen streetlights and overturned cars. Emergency lights smeared the air; strangers vanished as if swallowed. Konin forced himself up, pressed to a wall, every small sound a threat. A downward glow stabbed through the haze.
He ran without thinking. He seized the railing and launched down the steps, skipping them two at a time. The smoke thinned; toll gates and shuttered storefronts flickered into view.
He vaulted a gate and kept going as the ceiling cracked above him. Voices cried for help but he didn’t stop—he couldn’t.
At the bottom of the escalator the train doors hissed open. He shoved through as cramps knifed his calves; the doors swooped shut behind him.
He sagged into a seat, lungs burning. Ash dusted the carriage; a few people were injured, but their faces blurred. Across the car, a figure sat hooded, her face turned away. Familiarity tugged at him—impossible and exact—and for a wild second he wondered if she’d been watching him from the street.
He staggered up from his seat, careful with each step as he moved toward her. The train took a turn and Konin stumbled, brushing into passengers as he fought for balance.
"Watch it!" someone spat. He began to apologize, but his eyes weren't on the irate man—they were on the woman he carried on his back.
Her hands were folded like a prayer, mouth sealed, hair shadowing a face so pale her irises seemed to glow—blue as the sea at dawn.
"I'm sorry," he said as he walked away. The hooded girl sat directly ahead; his shadow fell across her grey hood. He gripped the pole and stared, mouth parted, no sound coming. He sucked his lips, then at last: "Sarah..." The rail's rhythm thudded in the near-silence; his finger tapped the pole. Nothing.
He tried again, louder. "Sarah." The woman lifted her head toward the voice. When Konin saw her face it felt like a stranger's.
"Sorry," she said, confused. "I think you have the wrong person."
"Oh—yeah, yeah," he laughed. "Sorry, you just looked like someone I know."
She nodded and tucked away her phone without taking her eyes off him. "Mm."
"I'm Konin, by the way." He raised a hand.
She took it. "Lisa."
"Um—can I sit?" he asked. She shifted and made room. She hesitated, then rummaged through her bag; her palm was bandaged. Thin white scars scored her wrist.
"Here." She produced a handkerchief. He raised a brow but accepted it. "You got a little—" she swept a finger down his temple. He pressed the cloth to his forehead and felt a sharp sting; when he lowered it a dark red blotch stained the pale fabric.
"Thank you," he breathed, dabbing at the blood. She sank back into her seat and watched. The stain began to dissolve—clear liquid seeping through the weave until the cloth floated inside a translucent, spherical membrane suspended in the air. The sphere drank the red, draining the stain; when the cloth reappeared in Konin's hand it looked dry.
"Neat," Lisa said. Konin smiled and handed it back. She pressed her fingers to the cloth; another bead of liquid welled and slipped onto her palm. He watched the bead pool there.
"Is this...water?" she asked.
"Yeah." Konin split the sphere with a palm; one half remained ruby, the other perfectly clear. "It's drinkable too—want some?"
"No, thanks." Her voice was flat. Konin shrugged and let both spheres collapse onto the floor.
"So, who's Sarah?" she asked.
He hesitated. "She is—she was a girl I used to know."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
He laughed, too quick. "Don't be. It was a long time ago."
Silence settled; the speakers announced the next stop.
"That's me," Lisa said, gathering her things. "Nice meeting you, Konin."
"You too."
The train slowed; the doors began to open. Lisa swung her bag over her shoulder—and froze. Konin watched her stillness, then called: "Lisa?"
She didn't answer. She lurched sideways into his lap, clutching his collar; white foam bubbled at her lips. Her knees buckled; the rest of her followed. "Lisa?!" Konin cradled her head before it hit the floor.
Then the blood came—fast, and wrong. Other passengers turned; the doors slid shut. Lisa's fingers clawed at his shirt. Blood streamed from the hollows and folds of her face; her darkened teeth showed through blackened lips. Her eyes reddened, tears mixing with the crimson that poured from them. It happened with a grotesque slowness: the foaming, the bleeding, each detail magnified until Konin's world reduced to the wet weight of her in his arms.
His mouth sealed. His eyes were wide, tracing every stroke of red that ran down her face; warm beads splattered across his face. He felt her breath thin against his cheek until there was none.
She lay in his arms, lifeless and bloody, the train trembled as Konin held her still body. The carriage slid into a tunnel; he drew back his hands and let Lisa—what was left of her—thud to the floor like a sack of meat.
He stood and stared at his reflection in the window. Dark hollows pooled beneath his brows and a shadowed pall under his lips. He bent, rummaged through Lisa’s bag, and pulled the same handkerchief. Wiping the beads from his face, he kept his gaze fixed on the glass.
The carriage’s motion tilted Lisa’s body; her head remained unnaturally upright as a stream of liquid rose from her mouth, defying gravity. It cleaned itself of blood and flowed like a tube into Konin’s neck until the last drops were drawn into his skin.
When the train emerged from the tunnel, Konin, finished wiping, threw the handkerchief over Lisa’s face.
Immediately the passengers erupted in applause. Every pair of hands clapped, every face beamed. Konin looked both ways, smiled, and waved as he stepped over Lisa’s body. They closed in around him, cheering and ruffling his hair. He hugged as many as he could. Finally a voice rose above the din.
“Okay! Okay! Settle down.”
The crowd quieted. Eyes turned to the speaker: a grey-haired man, well over forty, wearing a leather coat dusted with grime, a gold tooth flashing when he smiled.
“Tonight we had a successful mission,” the man said, walking to the circle the passengers had made around Konin. “Not only because we finally got rid of that son of a bitch, but also because we…” He put an arm around Konin, drawing him close. “Got ourselves a new brother.”
Applause. “And hey—when we get out of these bodies, first round’s on me!” The injured passengers threw their hands up and whooped.
Konin laughed. The man clapped him on the shoulder. “Congrats on passing the exam.”
“Yeah. I got it.” Konin turned, pressed the button, and tossed the sphere onto Lisa. It swallowed her whole in a ball of light along with her belongings, leaving only a translucent blue orb stained with blood.
Konin picked up the orb. From his body a stream of liquid poured downward into the pool of blood beneath him. Pale threads of clear liquid webbed outward across the surface like cracking ice. The pool tightened and curdled, lifting from the floor in sharp, upright spires and jagged needles that spun into a tightly bound ribbon of dark crimson, spiralling upward into the air. Konin swerved it around him, sweeping it over the floor, searching for any strays of red until he was satisfied.
The tail of the stream struck down like a viper through the thin gap beneath the rubber weather-stripping of the train door.
There was a faint, wet hiss as the tip breached the seal. For a split second, through the glass, the stream met the carriage’s slipstream and the high-velocity wind tore the liquid apart, atomizing the blood into a fine red mist that vanished behind the train like a ghost.
Inside, the ribbon’s tail slipped through the gasket. The floor beneath Konin was suddenly bone-dry and immaculate, reflecting the passing city lights.
He returned to the man. “We should’ve had you on the eighth,” the man said, raising an eyebrow.
“Only a fool would help you on the eighth,” Konin laughed.
“Aren’t we all?” the man returned.
“Hey, c’mon Drew—I wanna get my cock sucked!” someone yelled.
“Ey! Language!” Drew snapped. A few laughed.
“Then alright. You’ll be fine, Konin?”
Konin blinked. “Of course.”
Drew ran a hand through his hair. “Give the ball to Tav,” he gestured at the praying girl latched onto a man’s back, “and good luck with Inspector Han for the written exam, I'll be looking foward to your action report.” He winked at him before turning to the others. “Alright—drinks!” Everyone cheered.
Drew stepped toward Tav. Just as he reached to tap her shoulder, Konin called out, “Wait, wait! I thought I already finished the written exam.”
Silence fell over the cart. The speaker announced the next stop.
“Today… at 12:30?” Konin asked, shaping the time with his fingers.
Laughter broke out—sharp, hyena‑like—until even Tav smiled. Drew wiped his eyes. “Don’t worry. Tav’ll give you all the details.” He tapped the praying girl; she unclasped her hands. For a dizzying instant every smiling face shifted to stunned confusion as questions snapped through the circle. Konin's gaze fixed on the woman who had just gotten off the back of a random stranger—Tav.
"You can put me down now." Tav tapped the man's back. Appalled, he drew his hands away and Tav staggered to her feet with a grunt, breath ragged as she eyed him.
"Leave him alone, Tav." Konin sauntered over, tucking the ball away. He watched her limp. "Help me," she said, raising an arm over Konin's shoulder; he looped an arm around her waist. The train eased to a stop and the two got off.
"Where are we?" Konin asked.
"Does it matter?" she replied, to that he said nothing.
They threaded through the busy station; here it was quieter, less thick with danger. Most trains were cut off, but most people were absorbed by the screens—gazes locked, barely registering the world. The headlines screamed about Wilter Street: the blast, the spread, the panic. "Probably a month before this dies down," Tav said softly.
Konin glanced at a screen and, for a second, saw himself back there. No time for idle thoughts.
"Tav…" he began. "What exactly happened today?"
"Huh?" She blinked, then let out a small laugh. "Oh—Is this about the exam? Oh, shit." Her laugh continued.
"Not just that," Konin said. "The explosion."
"You already know who did it, right? You've got her right there," Tav said, pointing at his pocket.
"Oh—right." Konin pulled the ball out and handed it to her.
They were outside, back in the cold night and damp air. "Let's sit over there," Tav gestured to a nearby bus stop. Konin sat her down first, then himself. Without the smoke and screams the city felt quieter, almost ordinary.
"I'll take the bus and meet up with the guys at the Union. Can you get us a drink, Konin?" Tav rummaged through her purse for slips of cash.
"Sure." He scanned the street and found a vending machine he hadn't noticed before. He fed in the money. "Which one?!" he shouted.
"Cola!" she called.
He bought two. Inside the glass box the bottles glowed; he handed one back. "Thanks." They popped open the caps and drank.
"How old are you now, Konin?"
"Sixteen."
Tav went still at the word, stirring the bottle as if it were wine. "A whole year…" she said.
Konin stayed silent. She turned to him. "Do you really not remember anything from the exam? At all?"
He shook his head.
She smiled, amused. "Where do I begin?" She thought a moment. "Well—I'd say it started when Inspector Han called." She laughed. "He said, 'He jumped out the window.'"
"What?" Konin said, the word coming on it’s own.
"Exactly. That's what I said.” Tav raised a hand to her chest, “and then he said it again, 'he jumped out the window.'"
Tav paused to look at him, his bewilderment seemed to feed her amusement, “Drew didn't know what to make of it either. No one did. Then Han said you were gone."
"Gone where?"
"That's what I'd like to know." She smiled. "We got worried. We didn't know what to tell your mum, so we went to find you. We pulled the school security footage, went through files—and what do we see?" She took out her phone, teeth flashing beneath the smile as she tapped the screen. Konin leaned close. "What do we see? We see this." At first the clip was nothing but an empty parking lot with trees and a gate—the same view outside his classroom. Then, as everything clicked into place for him, a boy came falling to the ground.
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