The first thing Ye Jing-e noticed was his hair.
Not because he had been looking for it.
But because it wasn't supposed to be white.
He stopped walking.
Slowly.
Like the act itself required confirmation.
His hand lifted.
Fingers threading through strands that should have been dark.
Should have been familiar.
Should have been—
His breath slowed.
"This isn't right."
The strands slipped between his fingers.
Pale.
Colorless.
Wrong.
"I wasn't like this."
The thought came clearly.
Certain.
But when he tried to recall—
When.
Why.
How.
His mind—
Shifted.
Slipped.
Collapsed inward.
He inhaled sharply.
"I don't remember."
The words came out low.
Controlled.
But beneath it—
Something unstable moved.
His hand dropped.
He looked around.
The road was gone.
The sky—
Gone.
The world he had been walking through—
Gone.
In its place—
Metal.
Dim light.
Silence.
The train.
His chest tightened violently.
"No."
The word came out instinctively.
Rejecting.
