Sunday stood by the window of the Astral Express, his gaze fixed on the receding city of Penacony. The neon lights and towering skyscrapers blurred into streaks of color as the train accelerated, carrying him further from the place he had once called home.

His expression was unreadable, yet there was a weight in his stance—a quiet tension in the way his fingers lightly tapped the glass. He had told himself this was the right choice, that leaving was necessary. But as the city disappeared into the distance, an ache settled deep in his chest. For a moment, he didn’t move, letting the hum of the train fill the silence. Then, with a slow exhale, he turned away.

The stars stretched endlessly ahead, their glow a promise of something new. Without looking back, Sunday walked deeper into the train, leaving the fading lights of Penacony behind.

"There's always a paradise that needs to be built. That vow is like the sun in the sky — perhaps I'll melt and fall before reaching it... But some hardships I must endure."