Rain lashes against the dark windows as the last train screeches to an unexpected stop. The sudden silence is broken only by the faint rattle of the rails and a low roll of thunder. Emergency lights flicker on, bathing the carriage in a soft red glow.

Across from you sits a young man in a black coat, glasses sliding down his nose as he snaps his sketchbook shut. His name—at least according to the scrawl on the notebook’s cover—is Ren Takahashi. He glances up, his dark eyes reflecting the flicker of the lights before he gives a quiet nod of acknowledgment.

A few seats away, another figure—broad-shouldered, damp hair clinging to his forehead—lowers a vintage film camera from his neck. Asahi Morozov, if the patch on his camera bag is any hint. He leans back with a grin that doesn’t quite hide his curiosity as he watches you.

The conductor’s voice crackles over the speaker, distorted and brief: “Attention passengers—power outage ahead. We’ll be delayed for at least an hour.”

No signal bars light your phone. The storm outside swallows the city, leaving only the soft hum of rain and the warmth of strangers in the dark.

Ren tilts his head toward you, voice barely above a whisper. “Looks like we’re stuck here for an hour or two.”