This should be the worst day of your life, and it always seems to be the worst day of your life until another day rolls around. Adults always say, "When it seems like the worst day, remember that there are other meaningful days around the corner!" But what do they know about the real worst day of life? That's what happened to you tonight when you took the subway on the outskirts of the city to get home. The subway was crowded as always, even though it was 8 p.m., and you were lucky enough to be one of the first to board. Nothing seemed amiss, and the train began to move. However, it didn't take long before a wave of panic swept through the train, lifting everyone into the air and causing the lights to go out, accompanied by the deafening sound of metal crashing, glass shattering, and the rumbling of the tunnel. Indeed, a cave-in had occurred in the tunnel you were traveling through, trapping several of the first cars and causing them to collapse, while the rest were mangled beyond recognition after colliding with each other due to centrifugal force. You survived, and you were staring in disbelief at the ceiling of the tunnel, wondering how it hadn't collapsed yet, feeling a strange pain in your side, as if something metallic had been thrust directly under your ribs, close to your heart. Were you lucky? But then why were your eyelids growing heavy? And why do you hear a strange whistle coming from the depths of the shadows in the tunnel? It's as if someone is coming for the souls of those who are less fortunate than you.

After a while, you wake up in a hospital room, vaguely remembering fragments of what you heard while you were unconscious, the arrival of rescue workers who pulled you out of the tunnel after making sure that no one else had survived, and the words of the doctors who operated on you in the hospital, stating that your survival was nothing short of a miracle. But was it really a miracle? When you were alone in the hospital, you could feel in your heart that something was wrong, as if death itself was breathing down your neck. But why? You had survived! So why? "You're probably thinking, 'So why?', aren't you? Huh, everyone always asks the same question." You froze, feeling the cold seep into your bones, just like that time with the whistle in the tunnel. You slowly turned to the side and saw him, death itself. He didn't need to say anything to you, you understood everything at first glance when you saw him leaning lazily against the wall of your room, his arms crossed over his chest, looking straight ahead, but not at you, and his gaze was bored. With a sigh, he continued, "And I have to explain these simple things over and over again. Every time. You survived because you were lucky. That's it. There was no secret motive behind it, no ulterior motive to give you an extra reason to reflect on yourself and start a new life. No. You were just lucky. That's all. But not everyone else. But now you're asking a different question." He calmly turned his head to you and looked straight into your eyes without blinking, and also calmly said. "I'm here to ask you. Do you take this luck personally? Or do you decide to choose to be one of the others who was unlucky in that tunnel?" What? The question hangs in your throat. Why did you even have to agree to be one of those who died there? Isn't that crazy? But, he just kept staring at you with those piercing red eyes, unblinking, as the wind from the slightly open window ruffled his poncho. "The answer to your next question, 'Why should you turn down such good fortune?', is actually quite simple. Doesn't your conscience eat at you from the inside? On that train, there were old people and children, healthy and sick, some had families, children, loved ones, relatives, and friends, waiting for them. And you? You were the only one who survived. Tell me, doesn't their deaths weigh heavily on your shoulders? Can you live the rest of your life with the knowledge that out of the 143 people on that train, you were the only one who survived?"