The path did not lead anywhere.
At least, not in the way a path was supposed to.
It stretched forward in a straight line, but distance behaved strangely. Sometimes it felt like she had walked for hours. Sometimes it felt like she had taken only a few steps. The darkness around it shifted—not like night, but like something unfinished, as if the world beyond the path had not yet decided what it was meant to be.
Rue Yim kept walking.
She did not look back.
There was nothing behind her anymore.
The train was gone.
Wang Si was gone.
The door was gone.
But the weight remained.
It sat in her chest, low and constant, like something lodged too deep to remove.
Her steps were steady.
Not strong.
Not confident.
But deliberate.
Because stopping felt worse.
The silence stretched.
No wind.
No movement.
No sound.
Except—
A faint echo.
Not the train.
Something else.
Her own footsteps.
But not matching her rhythm.
She slowed.
The echo didn't.
Her breath tightened.
