A Long Train Ride I

Mist Valley was a modest town nestled in the shadow of the Great Barrier mountain range, a formidable expanse of jagged peaks that formed a natural barrier between the southernmost region of Fiore, Sundan, and Medina, its central heartland. The train journey from Mist Valley to Linos, the capital city of Fiore, was a long, winding journey that spanned over twenty-four hours. The path was a blend of sweeping vistas, dense forests, and the occasional mountain pass, each passing mile stretching the journey further into a never-ending blur.

For Yuliang, the train ride felt like a drawn-out eternity. He sat stiffly in the cramped, sparsely furnished compartment, the low hum of the train's engine vibrating through his bones. Beside him, his brother Yukio rambled incessantly, an unrelenting torrent of words that seemed to grow louder and more intrusive with each passing minute. The small compartment they shared offered little in the way of comfort beyond basic amenities, but it was comfortable enough. However, it wasn't the physical confinement that gnawed at Yuliang's nerves—it was his brother's ceaseless chatter, each word like an itch he couldn't scratch.

Yukio's conversations were a relentless barrage of topics—many of which Yuliang could have done without. His brother had no filter, no sense of propriety.

The latest topic that Yukio had latched onto was a graphic recounting of his most recent night out, detailing an sexual encounter in a local bar bathroom, filled with enough raw details to make Yuliang's stomach churn. The images played in his mind, unbidden and unwelcome.

Yuliang had tried every method he could think of to escape it: glaring, ignoring him, even requesting—first politely, then firmly—that Yukio stop. But nothing worked. The more he resisted, the more his brother seemed to take it as a challenge, a game. With every attempt to reclaim his peace, Yukio only pushed further, his storytelling becoming more animated, more persistent, until Yuliang felt the very fabric of his patience begin to tear.

Unable to take it anymore, Yuliang stood up abruptly, his voice cold and clipped as he muttered, "I'm going for a walk." Without waiting for a response, he swept past his brother, the door of the compartment sliding shut with a soft whoosh behind him. Yuliang stood in the corridor for a moment, taking in the cool, recycled air, feeling the weight of the last few hours lift off his shoulders. The tension in his chest began to ease as he walked away from the confines of the compartment.

Yuliang wandered down the narrow corridor, the rhythmic clattering of the train against the tracks providing a monotonous soundtrack to his restless mind. He absently scanned the compartments, his gaze flicking over the other passengers as he passed, but his thoughts were too clouded to focus on anything.

It was halfway down the second car that the door ahead of him slammed open with startling force. Yuliang's reflexes kicked in, and he reached out instinctively, steadying the man who had stumbled out of the compartment. The stranger's legs buckled beneath him, and Yuliang's grip tightened to prevent him from falling.T

The man was of Sundanese descent—dark-skinned, with striking gray eyes and fiery red hair. His clothes were disheveled, his posture unsteady, and his breath came in frantic, jagged gasps.

"Are you all right?" Yuliang asked, his voice low and steady as he assessed the man's condition. There were no obvious injuries, no sign of an altercation, yet the stranger's panic was palpable.

The man's eyes were wide, frantic, and his hands grasped Yuliang's sleeve with a desperation that made his heart skip a beat. "Goddess, save us," the man muttered hoarsely. "Please, help me. It's my wife... she's gone into labor.

Yuliang expression softened slightly. "Stay calm," he said. "I am a licensed Healer. I can help, but you need to lead me to your wife."

The man's shoulders sagged. He sobbed. "You are a Healer? Oh, the Goddess must truly be smiling down on me today. Please, help my wife... I don't care about the cost. I'll pay whatever you ask... anything. Just... please, don't let anything happen to her."

Yuliang pursed his lips, brows furrowing. "I promise you, everything will be fine. What is your name, sir?"

"Anil," the man replied.

"And your wife's name?"

"Rupa," Anil answered, the name almost a prayer on his lips.

Yuliang nodded, committing both names to memory. "Take me to her."