After that amazing door opening, the train felt like it was releasing some misty fog, and when it cleared, I saw what was inside coach number six—and I think I understood why there was a necessary showbiz misty fog. My coach was just too beautiful, and not just that; the moment I stepped inside, I felt like I was in a completely different world once again.
There was no one else there but teenagers.
Some looked like they were my age, others maybe a year older than me, and some perhaps a year younger. Not only that, but the interior of the coach was breathtaking. It felt like I had accidentally walked into one of those very expensive movie theatres—you know, the ones that make 3D look like something from the past. The seats were all arranged just like you would find in a theatre, and they were beautifully made from shiny, red, scale-like leather.
And the best part was that they all faced the front direction. Again, I was the last one there, and though I was Klein—who I'm sure was used to this kind of life—I wasn't. This was all new to me, and I felt like a child in a toy store.
I was mesmerized by all of this, and I didn't even realize that I was the one holding the train from moving.
All I heard was a beep over the speakers, and then a familiar but beautiful female voice spoke.
"Dear passengers, please report to your seats so the train can depart for Sky City," she announced.
Talk about first impressions lasting. Every single person there turned around and looked at me. I had never been so embarrassed in my life—and that was mainly because there were cute girls there.
I had no choice, so I made my way to my seat.
Luckily, there was just one seat remaining, and whoever designed this coach deserved an outstanding ovation—they really thought of everything. Once I took my seat, I realized I was sitting next to two cute girls.
From what I could glimpse, I'd say the total number of students was close to a hundred, meaning this coach had a hundred seats. Just after I sat down, seatbelts came out and strapped me to the chair.
"Whoa, a little warning next time," I joked.
Though I didn't realize it at first, the two cute girls quietly chuckled.
"Hey," I said, forcing my arm out despite it being restrained, and waved at them.
And just like that, without any warning, the train took off.
I felt like I was riding a rollercoaster—one of those probably dangerous ones. The train went from being calm to shooting off like a jet-fueled rocket. Obviously, I didn't scream—only girls did that—but once we exited the train station, that's when it got serious.
The train shot up into the sky like a space rocket, minus the steady countdown. Once we were in the air, I finally understood the true definition of beauty.
The sun shone brightly across the horizon, and the clouds were beautifully yellow, like marshmallows. I won't lie—if this train didn't have windows, I would've reached out and taken a bite.
Every single one of us was in awe of the scenery. Even though they were people from this world, it felt like they were experiencing it for the first time—just like me.
We saw birds of all kinds. I don't know much about birds, so there was no point in naming them. Some were as small as birds should be, others were larger, like peacocks—which was still normal. But just when I thought I had seen it all, one bird erupted from below us and burst through the clouds.
It was massive. When all of us saw it, we backed away and gasped, as if experiencing it in 3D.
That bird was so humongous it covered the entire sky. On top of it were young children who looked like students from another school—maybe a primary school.
"What in the—?" I leaned closer to the window, just to make sure what I was seeing was real.
What did this even mean? I knew I had transmigrated into a new place, and I was sure it was Japan—but no matter how advanced Japan was, even it couldn't have created something like this.
This wasn't just any bird. It looked like one of those rare birds you'd find in the Amazon jungle, the ones close to extinction. It was yellow—almost like the color of the sun. Its feathers were abundant, and whenever its wings flapped, the clouds either scattered or reshaped into different forms.
"That's a Sunlight Bird," someone whispered next to my ear.
"Pardon me?" I turned to see who spoke.
"The bird—it's called a Sunlight Bird. It resembles the colors of the sun and only comes out during sunset. So we're lucky to see it now. It means luck is on our side," the girl explained.
I wasn't sure what surprised me more—the fact that I somehow knew about the Sunlight Bird but couldn't remember from where, or the fact that a beautiful girl was standing next to me.
She was so beautiful that trying to describe her would do her no justice. She didn't look like a first-year, but she was definitely a student.
Before I could even say a word, she mysteriously disappeared. No matter how much I searched, she was nowhere to be found.
So I watched the Sunlight Bird fly toward the horizon and leaned back in my seat.
But something kept bothering me. It wasn't just that I missed the chance to talk to her—though that sucked—it was something else.
I knew about the Sunlight Bird. Once she mentioned it, I recognized it instantly. But I had no idea from where.
That thought stayed with me for the entire trip. I saw everything, yet it felt like I didn't truly witness it—like my body was present, but my mind wasn't.
Everyone gasped at every breathtaking sight, while I stayed seated, trying to solve the mystery of that bird.
Eventually, the train slowed down from lightning speed to a smooth, steady pace. A few minutes later, it stopped.
The doors slid open.
"Welcome, everyone, to Sky City," the same female voice announced.
The belts retracted, allowing us to move freely. I stepped out of my coach—which was actually levitating in the air—and the moment my feet touched the ground, I completely forgot about the Sunlight Bird.
"Whoa," I muttered, spinning around and staring upward.
Now I knew for sure—I wasn't in Japan anymore. This place proved it. It was unreal. Different forms of air transport—trains, cars, and planes—floated above us.
Every student from the coach stood there, just as stunned as I was. Since none of us knew where to go next, we simply waited.
Some caught up with friends, others met new ones. I walked through the crowd, completely unaware of my surroundings, until the train took off—and that's when I noticed something strange.
I finally understood why the journey felt so fast.
The train didn't pull all its coaches at once.
As new people boarded, the first coach lifted off, followed by the second after a short delay, then the next—one by one.
Lost in thought and mesmerized by the sight, I didn't even realize I had wandered away from the crowd.
I only realized when I bumped into someone.
"Oh, please forgive me, I wasn't looking where I was going," I apologized.
"It's okay," she said. "You actually made things easier for me. I should be thanking you instead."