"You like this type of game!"
Art was overcome by a wave of surprise as he was jostled lightly and found a pretty, black-haired woman gazing over his shoulder and at his phone.
This was bad in two ways: one, because a stranger he had never met in his life was infringing on his privacy, and two, because the thing displayed on his phone was something he was quite embarrassed to show others.
"Ah... excuse me," he muttered, quickly switching off his phone with a flustered expression. He shifted away from the woman seated beside him on the moving train, trying his best not to look her in the eye.
"I'm not judging!" He heard her mutter, causing him to sigh in relief.
"I'll take it you like anime, then?"
Patting her thigh, hidden beneath a long, flowing black dress, she tilted her head and smiled at him.
"...I do."
For a moment, he was entranced by the woman's unearthly beauty as he nodded like a doll.
"Of course, what you were playing was a visual novel... usually the source material."
Intrigued by her knowledge of the media he consumed like junk food, Art tried his best to hide his smile as he nodded.
It wasn't every day he met such a beauty interested in his hobbies.
"The game you were playing—what's it called?"
Inching closer to him, the sharp fragrance of her perfume wafted past his nostrils, causing him to inhale unconsciously—only to stop himself from going full degenerate.
"It's called Abyssal Chronicles!" he responded, switching on his phone to display the classic title screen, the faint sound of upbeat EDM playing in the background.
"Can you enlighten me about it?"
With a sparkle of curiosity beaming in her scarlet eyes, she smiled.
"Scarlet!"
Noticing the ethereal eye color of the woman, Art, amazed, murmured—causing her to cast him a worrying look.
"Is something wrong with my eyes?"
Art wanted to scream right then and there that, yes. Never in his life had he seen any normal human being with scarlet irises—that kind of stuff was in fiction. And even if, by chance, anyone on planet Earth had them, he doubted they would look as beautiful as the eyes staring back at him.
"Ahem..."
Breaking eye contact, he looked away and shook his head.
"...It's nothing much... just a first."
"My eyes," she responded, pointing at her iris.
"Yes," he nodded, choosing to voice his thoughts.
"I see."
Saddened by his weird gaze, she sighed and leaned back into the train seat, her expression relaxed but slightly thoughtful.
"I didn't mean it in a bad way."
Art tried consoling her for some reason. He didn't know why or how, but something about the woman drew him to her. It was strange but somewhat nice, as if...
"I understand. I'm used to that look," she smiled wryly, her eyes distant as memories flashed before her. "I was born slightly different from normal. I wasn't particularly hated, but those weird looks..."
"I feel you."
Interrupting her, Art switched off his phone once more and sighed, leaning forward.
"You understand?" she asked, her soft tone laced with anticipation.
Seeing she was urging him to respond, Art ruffled his hair, not knowing why he was about to narrate his story to a complete stranger. But here he was.
"You probably had it worse than me, but yeah, I was born different from my siblings. Not in appearance, but in motivation and ambition."
They all had different purposes, and he felt his situation was the same—but his parents never understood.
"My older siblings pursue unattainable ambitions—wanting to be CEOs and whatnot—and here I am, just not wanting to go through that shit. I just want a comfy life, with a small house or apartment. A normal job would do, as long as it can provide for myself and a future family."
"That's a nice dream," she encouraged, holding his shoulder with a relatable expression.
Their situations were completely different, but she understood where he was coming from. She had a friend who shared a similar dream.
"Like, college is already a hellhole, and now you're telling me I have to go through more studying just to make my parents' burdensome expectations come true?"
He by no means hated his parents. In fact, he was grateful for everything they'd done for him—food, a home, clothing, and ensuring his happiness. But no amount of gratitude would make their impossible dreams for him possible. Owning a successful company was a hard journey, the kind he wasn't ready for. Sure, some had done it—his brother was already a few steps away from owning his own company, and his destination right now was to congratulate him—but he wasn't his brother.
He was just an adult who had set moderate standards from the beginning. He didn't want to be a failure, but neither did he want to be the best. Just in the middle was enough.
"You're right. Expectations are a curse."
"I wouldn't say that," Art sighed in response. "It's good to have expectations, but don't place them too high, else..."
"...You'll be disappointed."
Finishing his sentence for him, the beautiful woman patted her thighs once more, somewhat satisfied.
"Hey, Art!"
Leaning toward him again, she called out—leaving Art, who didn't remember giving her his name, confused.
"How...?"
"It was a mere coincidence I came across you, but it also seems fated... so I'll reward you."
Confusion grew into bewilderment as he turned his head and locked eyes with her, trying to decipher her meaning. Today had already been a shitty day, and now he had to deal with the ramblings of a strange woman. His brain was running on overdrive—but what happened next blew his mind.
The woman, leaning closer, wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.
He couldn't resist—she was far too strong—and before he knew it, her lips were pressed against his. An idiot would be on cloud nine right now, and so was he—until a sharp, painful headache erupted in his brain, threatening to rip his mind apart.
He tried to scream, but—
"Mm... mm..."
His lips were sealed by hers. His eyes darted around, searching for help, but the once-crowded train was now empty, and everything outside was dark. It was as if he had been transported to a whole new dimension with the woman.
Confusion, anger, and fear—he experienced it all as his head throbbed, his mind rupturing, his body struggling to break free.
Soon, the pain was too much. His body gave in, his vision blacked out, and finally, he was free from her lips—but it was too late. His body slumped onto the hard surface of the train, his vision flickering as he saw the woman gazing down at him.
"You... cough..."
Coughing up a mouthful of blood, he tried to speak, mustering the last of his strength to point at her.
"Your body... it's far too weak to handle that... huh?"
Ignoring him, she looked around and sighed.
"...You!"
"Don't worry..."
Sensing his death was near, she bent down, cupping his bloody cheeks in her palms. Then, with a sadistic smile, she continued:
"...I'm eagerly awaiting you on the other side."
A chill ran down his spine as he faced death. He didn't want to die—not out of shallow regret, but because he didn't want to experience the "other side" she whispered about. But no matter how much he fought to stay conscious, his will was too weak.
So he died.
The other side welcoming him into it's embrace.