Chapter 71 Arrival at the Ghost Platform
It's alright now.
Hold the amulet tightly to your hand. Its surface is still warm, and you can faintly feel it still radiating a lingering warmth.
Looking around, the bustling crowds still mingled, their footsteps, whispers, and announcements blending together, while your gaze remained fixed on the invisible, seemingly endless train tracks.
Another light rail train has arrived.
"This is the car I should be riding in."
The timing is correct, and the signs and route displays in the carriages match your destination.
It's time to get on the bus.
…It seems there's no other choice but to get on the bus.
He cautiously scanned the surrounding passengers, glancing at every face and observing every subtle movement. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary—just rows of office workers in suits, laughing and joking students, and a few middle-aged women carrying shopping bags.
There was no strange expression on their faces, and their eyes were calm and normal.
It seems the commotion at the station has passed, and I feel a bit more relaxed. Of course, I'm still far from feeling completely at ease, but at least I can calm down my initial panic.
Following the flow of people, you carefully observe your steps and cautiously step into the carriage. Although there are no seats in the carriage during off-peak hours, you still have the option to choose where to stand.
I found a corner by the window, stood still, and adjusted my posture, feet slightly apart, ready to react at any moment. You know, in times like these, you can't let your guard down; who knows what unknown terror might erupt at any moment?
Everything inside the carriage looked normal.
The migrant workers who boarded the bus with you were engrossed in processing documents, while the students wore headphones and were absorbed in their own worlds, with only one or two occasionally exchanging words.
The carriage was quiet; apart from the breathing of the passengers beside me, the rumbling of the train added to the peaceful atmosphere.
He touched the amulet in his hand; it had completely cooled down by now and was just hanging steadily on his wrist without any unusual reaction.
Everything is as you expected—peaceful.
You turn to look out the window, and suddenly the gloomy clouds are pierced by the sunlight, reflecting a bright light through the car window.
You blinked and quickly adjusted to the new light.
The sunlight filtering through the glass, like filtered shadows, spilled into the carriage, giving all the colors an overexposed, stimulating quality, as if all the colors had been dimmed.
I can't quite put my finger on what's wrong, but something just doesn't feel right. I take out my phone, and the time on the lock screen clearly shows that I just boarded the train a short time ago—only a minute has passed since I got on.
That's strange. Is it because you're too nervous that every second feels like an eternity? Why do you feel like you've been on this train for so long?
Looking at the travel progress display above, it matches the train's journey within one minute on the map, so there shouldn't be any problems.
Swoosh—it started raining heavily again outside, the raindrops pattering against the windowpane with a loud and clear sound.
It rained, then the sky cleared, and the sun came out again.
You glanced at your phone again—the time still showed "13:01".
Nothing has changed from before.
But, but, in your perception, at least ten minutes have passed since that downpour and the change in the sun outside. No matter how unpredictable the weather is, it can't change so drastically in just a few seconds.
The amulet still didn't react.
Then, shall we wait and see?
It started raining again outside the window. The sky looked like a display screen that had malfunctioned after being repeatedly switched on and off in a short period of time, with colorful spots of light—rainbows—dissolving into the air.
Blue, red, green... these colors of light naturally seeped into the carriage, intertwining to form a strange glow.
Finally, it all mixed into a hazy, grayish-purple mess.
You suddenly look up at the display screen in the carriage ahead. The text and numbers on the screen begin to blur, as if they are flowing, controlled by some invisible force.
The time on my phone finally jumped to 1:02.
You stare intently at the screen, your fingers growing cold. The rumble of the light rail in your ears contrasts sharply with the rapidly changing scenery outside the window: the landscape shifts from lush green countryside to densely packed city streets, then to desolate hills and abandoned industrial plants—each frame like a film playing at an accelerated pace.
The only thing they had in common was that the inside and outside of the car shared a murky color.
He unconsciously gripped the amulet tighter. Its surface remained cold and hard, completely unresponsive. Was it broken, or was the situation not so bad yet?
The surrounding passengers were completely unaware of the change in their environment; they were simply absorbed in their own thoughts, their expressions unchanged, and their manner of being remained the same.
You take small breaths and turn your attention to your phone.
You aimlessly open every social media app you might be able to contact, but the empty contact list on the screen is a stark reminder that you have nowhere to turn for help.
The only person you exchanged contact information with was Ms. Mio, a former TV host. However, since she's a local, she just reads your messages but doesn't reply.
Unwilling to give up, you opened LINE, used the translator to translate, "Hi, there's a strange light on the train right now, and it seems like we're never getting to the next stop. What's going on?", then deleted it and changed it to, "I'm having some difficulties. Can I ask for your help?"
Click send and send it to the person at the convenience store where you're going to work.
The other person quickly read your message, and after the period for "typing" scrolled through the screen a few times, you finally received a new message: "Is this your first time riding a tram? Foreigners really do find it difficult. It's really awful. Good luck!"
Okay, I knew I couldn't count on him.
After all this, is the internet really the last hope?
That's the only way.
Try entering keywords like "light rail time anomaly," "a minute feels abnormal," or even more paranormal terms like "unexplained light rail incidents" into a search engine. The results are quite different. The search results are filled with all sorts of irrelevant content: tips on optimizing time management, advertisements for instant noodles that cook in one minute, and some bizarre urban legend websites.
You stop and hesitate, wondering if you should try a more direct approach, such as posting on a forum.
5ch, the anonymous forum that provided you with a lot of help.
You quickly opened the page, and the interface still had the familiar, simple design, but the page loaded much slower than usual, as if some kind of malfunction was interfering.
Finally, you enter the homepage, enter keywords, and quickly find an old post from many years ago.
Kisaragi Station.
It's an urban legend about a person riding a tram that never seems to reach the next stop. She keeps riding and riding until she finally arrives at the next stop, only to find the platform completely empty.
After that, she disappeared, leaving only this post.
The situation is the same as what you are facing now.
You feel there's no need to post for help anymore, because just as you finished reading the entire post, the train gently pulled into the station.
The car door beeps urgently in your ear, as if urging you to make a decision as soon as possible.
Do you want to get off?
You swallowed hard and looked around the carriage. The crowd that had been so dense just moments before had vanished, leaving you all alone in the blink of an eye.
What is this for?
The sense of security that once allowed you to retreat into your comfort zone was instantly swallowed up by loneliness, like an invisible hand gripping your throat, forcing you to breathe rapidly.
Before you could even think, with a few bangs, the lights in both carriages began to go out one by one, and darkness surged in like ink.
You have nowhere to go! You clearly see that the area after the lights went out has no physical form, only a distorted void. The swallowed seats and armrests are like those thrown into a black pool of water, their edges cut off cleanly until they disappear completely without a trace.
"run!"
Your brain screams, but your legs are stiff and immobile. You watch helplessly as the darkness draws ever closer, as if you can feel its coldness and viscosity; it's like some corrosive liquid, tearing apart sound, light, and space in the air bit by bit.
Finally, you took a sudden step and rushed towards the car door.
The moment your foot steps out of the carriage, darkness surges behind you like a tide, carrying a bone-chilling cold that almost brushes against your back.
You scramble off the train, your feet landing on the platform, your heart pounding. Just as you're about to turn around, you realize the carriage behind you hasn't closed its doors and left as usual; it's just sitting there silently, like a giant ghost, its dark windows empty.
Suddenly, the entire car body began to tremble, as if an invisible force was tearing it apart.
You see the color of the carriage exterior begin to fade, the vibrant metallic surface peeling away like paint, revealing the hollow gray outline beneath. Then, the front of the carriage seems to be gently wiped by some giant eraser, the light and shadow begin to collapse, and all the details are erased bit by bit.
The disappearance of the carriages was not instantaneous, but rather like a sketch on a canvas, being erased stroke by stroke. From the front to the back of the train, the originally clear outline became blurred and distorted, finally vanishing completely into the air.
The entire process was completely silent; only a deathly stillness and a sense of oppression enveloped you.
When you come to your senses, the entire light rail train has vanished, and the platform is empty, as if it had never existed.
You stand in the middle of the platform, cold sweat dripping down your forehead.
The surrounding air became unusually stagnant, making even breathing difficult.
You always feel an itch in your lungs, and a familiar but indescribable stench surrounds your nose.
Pulling up your collar to cover your mouth and nose, you slowly wander around, exploring this place.
The platform lights were still on, but the color was off—the originally bright incandescent lights had taken on a faint blue-green hue, like the light and shadow of the deep sea.
"Where...is this?"
You mutter to yourself, only to find your voice swallowed up by the heavy air, sounding as if it were through a thick layer of glass.
Looking around, the entire platform was deserted, with only the station nameplate hanging quietly on the wall.
You immediately thought of that post, but the platform name wasn't the same.
The font was distorted unnaturally, with the edges seemingly twitching slightly, as if it had been twisted by the rising steam.
You reach out your phone, wanting to take a picture for translation.
Whoosh—
The amulet, which had been unresponsive, suddenly burst into flames!
The eerie blue flames didn't burn your skin, but as they turned to black ash, the hairs on your body stood on end!
We must hide.
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Author's Note: How come I opened my eyes, closed them again, and then fell asleep again? QAQ By the way, if any moms are interested, you can search for posts about Kisaragi's platform. This was one of Tiger's childhood traumas; it was really terrifying...
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