The train ride didn’t last long.

  A low chime echoed through the car, followed by the smooth hiss of the doors sliding open. Jin stood up with a casual stretch, motioning for Ezren to follow as they stepped off onto the platform of an active city subway station.

  As soon as they stepped through the train doors, it felt like the world folded in on itself, like a spiritual veil lifted. The soft hum of Station 10's spectral world faded into the unmistakable buzz of the living. Their surroundings sharpened into a familiar, urban rhythm, footsteps, station announcements, rustling paper, distant laughter, but no one looked their way.

  The transition hadn’t been abrupt, yet it felt like walking across an invisible bridge, from what once was, into what still is.

  Businessmen in suits, tired students, early commuters, they all flowed around Ezren and Jin like water around stone, completely unaware.

  Which, technically, they weren’t really there.

  “Alright,” Jin said, tucking his hands behind his head. “Welcome to the living world, sorta. Spiritually phased and totally undetectable. Except maybe to a few cats, dogs, and the occasional kid with too much imagination.”

  He wasn’t kidding. A stray orange tabby perched near a vending machine gave them a narrowed stare before darting into the shadows.

  Ezren glanced around, breath catching a little as it sank in. The world he once lived in, now just a backdrop.

  They ascended a stairwell, emerging onto a quiet street where the morning air smelled faintly of bread and blooming flowers.

  Their destination wasn’t far now.

  Ezren stiffened when a businessman passed within inches of him. “They really can’t see us?”

  Jin smirked. “Nope. You’re in the living world, spiritually phased. We’re here, just… not here.”

  They moved through the crowd with ease, unseen observers. Jin navigated casually, like he’d done this a hundred times. Ezren tried to keep up, every step hammering home the fact that he didn’t belong to this world anymore.

  He spotted a street vendor through the subway entrance gate. A memory sparked, he used to buy snacks like that after practice. Something ached in his chest.

  “Try not to dwell,” Jin murmured beside him, tone quieter now. “Being close to what you’ve lost... it messes with your head.”

  Ezren nodded, taking a deep breath.

  They climbed a stairwell, exited through a side door, and stepped into a quiet neighborhood street where the air smelled faintly of bread and blooming flowers.

  Their destination was close.

  They walked in silence for a few minutes, their footsteps light against the waking city.

  As Ezren took in the streets around them, a strange realization settled into his chest, this wasn’t just any quiet neighborhood. It was familiar.

  Uncomfortably so.

  The station they had emerged from... it was the same one he used to take every morning to school. The same cracked sidewalk lines led toward his old campus. The same convenience store still stood on the corner, the one he used to stop by for melon bread or instant noodles after soccer practice. Even the posters taped to a nearby wall looked like something he might’ve passed on his way home.

  Everything was still here.

  And yet… he wasn’t.

  For the first time since becoming a Conductor, Ezren felt it, the weight of absence. Not just grief. Not just confusion.

  The world had moved on.

  People walked, talked, lived. Nothing had paused when he died. There were no grand memorials, no cosmic shifts. Life simply... continued.

  And no matter how close he was, no matter how many souls he might guide, this place, this life, was out of reach now.

  He was a ghost among memories.

  Ezren’s fingers clenched slightly. He wasn’t angry. Not really.

  But something inside him settled cold.

  “I used to hang out here,” he murmured aloud. “Me and my friends... we used to think this part of town was ours.”

  Jin gave him a look but said nothing.

  They kept walking, the bakery just around the corner.

  The warm scent of flour and rising dough drifted through the modest bakery.

  Inside, Nana Elin pressed her palms into the soft dough on the countertop, her movements practiced, steady, but slower than usual. Beads of sweat gathered on her forehead despite the gentle morning air. Her feet ached beneath her, and her shoulders felt weighed down, as if something unseen rested there.

  She paused for a moment, breathing out slowly.

  "Just getting old," she muttered to herself with a faint smile. "Nothing more."

  Across the counter, her granddaughter rolled up her sleeves, watching Elin closely.

  "Nana," she said gently, "why don’t you sit down for a bit? I’ve got this."

  Elin tried to wave her off, but the warmth in her granddaughter’s voice left little room for protest. With a small sigh, she stepped aside and eased into the nearby cushioned chair, a hand pressing to her lower back.

  From her seat, she watched her granddaughter kneading, the same rhythm, the same technique she’d spent years teaching her. Pride flickered in Elin’s eyes.

  "You’re doing well," she said softly. "I’ve taught you everything I know. I could die in peace now."

  Her granddaughter’s hands paused on the dough. "Don’t say that," she said, half-scolding. "You still have years left, and I still need you."

  Elin chuckled, resting her head back. "Maybe. But today… I feel it more than usual."

  Her granddaughter frowned. "Are you sure you’re okay? We could get you checked up. You’ve been sweating since we started."

  Elin waved a hand dismissively. "I’ll just close my eyes for a bit. Stayed up too late, that’s all."

  "Nana," the girl said with quiet concern, "you’ve been working way too hard. I can handle the bakery. I like doing this. You don’t need to carry it all by yourself anymore."

  Elin opened one eye, the corner of her lips lifting. "But you’ve got school. And friends. I can’t burden you."

  Her granddaughter shook her head with a soft smile. "It’s not a burden. I enjoy our mornings here. Just… trust me."

  Elin closed her eyes fully this time, her expression serene. "I’ve trusted you from the very beginning."

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  And then, without another word, she drifted into sleep.

  Peaceful.

  Still.

  Her granddaughter wiped her hands clean and looked toward the window, speaking more to fill the quiet than anything else.

  "You know, Nana... There was an accident a few days ago. A boy from around here. I think his name was Ezren, the one who played soccer? Always helping old Mr. Han carry groceries..." She let out a soft, bitter breath. "They said it was a car accident. Just like that. Gone."

  She shook her head. "Some people are just... evil. To take someone with so much ahead of them. It’s not fair."

  She turned back to the chair. "Nana?"

  Elin didn’t answer.

  She took a step closer. "Nana, I’m serious—stop pretending. This isn’t funny."

  Still no response.

  A beat of silence. Then panic crept into her voice.

  "Nana? Nana!"

  They stood just outside the bakery's entrance, the wooden sign above creaking softly in the breeze. Ezren had stopped walking.

  He stared at the display window, expression twisted with recognition.

  “This is…” he breathed. “Old Lady Elin’s place. I used to buy bread here all the time. For breakfast. Sometimes before practice.”

  He turned toward Jin slowly, tension in his voice. “Don’t tell me the one who died is—”

  Jin gave a small shrug, gaze fixed ahead. “Then let your first mission begin.” His tone grew more serious. “I’ll need your full focus here. Risk’s low, but never zero.”

  They stepped through the door, silent and unseen.

  Inside, Elin’s spirit stood by the chair, watching her granddaughter with a calm expression. Her gaze lingered on her own body, on the girl still crying out her name.

  She didn’t speak.

  She simply watched.

  Ezren remained frozen in place, unable to look away from the sight of the granddaughter's quiet heartbreak.

  Jin glanced at him, then stepped forward slightly.

  "Mrs. Elin," he said gently, his voice calm and steady. "It's time."

  Elin turned slowly, her spirit locking eyes with Jin. She looked… peaceful. Not surprised. As if she'd been waiting.

  He gave her a soft, respectful smile. "Was it a good life?"

  Elin’s expression brightened, eyes misty with memory. "I’ve lived the best life I could. Raised a family. Taught what I knew. And now… I’ll finally get to see him again. My husband."

  She looked around the bakery one last time, the scent of fresh bread still lingering faintly.

  Then her gaze settled back on Jin. "I assume you’re here to guide me?"

  Jin didn’t respond. Instead, he turned slightly and gave Ezren a light nudge forward, not with force, but with meaning.

  Ezren blinked, realization dawning.

  This was it.

  His first passing.

  Ezren took a deep breath, then stepped forward, voice quiet but steady.

  "It’s been a while, Grandma Elin."

  Elin turned to him fully, blinking in surprise.

  "Oh my…" Her eyes widened in recognition. "Ezren? What in the world… what are you doing here?"

  Ezren managed a faint smile. "Something happened. I… died. And now I’m a Conductor."

  The word meant little to her, but the truth behind it hit like a stone. Her hand lifted gently to her lips.

  "Oh, my dear boy…" she whispered, grief softening her features. "So young… so full of life."

  She stepped forward and wrapped him in a gentle, motherly hug, warm and full of memory.

  "You poor child," she murmured. "To end up like this… it's so unfair. You had such a bright path ahead."

  Ezren closed his eyes briefly, letting her warmth wash over him.

  He hadn’t expected comfort, not here, not now, and yet… here it was.

  Jin’s voice broke the moment gently. "Alright, Ezren. Time to do your job. Channel your Anima into your staff, connect with her spirit, and guide her to the River of Veil."

  Ezren stepped back slightly and took a steadying breath. Emotions swirled inside him, grief for the loss, warmth from Elin’s embrace, and a powerful desire to help her find peace.

  He extended his hand, letting the feelings rise.

  From his fingertips, a faint glow flickered to life, soft blue threads of light that slowly flowed into the bo staff he held. The air around him hushed.

  Then, from both ends of the staff, a blue flame emerged, gentle, flickering like a candlelight caught between dream and memory. It wrapped around the staff’s tips with a calm presence.

  Jin tilted his head, watching with curiosity. "Hmmm. It’s incomplete," he murmured.

  Ezren looked at him, confused. "Incomplete?"

  "That’s your Anima, yeah. But right now, it’s there without shape. No intention. It’s like a breath without direction," Jin explained. "Try remembering what it felt like when you first crossed into the River of Veil. Let that memory shape the flame."

  Ezren closed his eyes.

  He remembered the moment, the way the world bent around him, the feeling of calm serenity that wrapped around his chest. It was like drifting in water without fear. A light had led him through, not blinding, not forceful. Just warm. Accepting.

  And then—

  From one tip of the staff, the flame thickened, coalescing into something new.

  A soft blue metal formed around it, shaping itself into a curved street lantern, like the ones found near peaceful temples. Inside, the flame burned slowly and steadily.

  A guide.

  A light for the lost.

  Jin stepped forward and gave a small nod. "Now," he said softly, "press the lantern gently to her chest, and speak this incantation. Let your intent flow through the flame."

  She raised her hand gently.

  "Wait… just a moment. Please," she whispered.

  Her gaze turned to her granddaughter, still kneeling beside her lifeless body. Elin stared, long and soft, her expression tender.

  "May I look at her a little longer?"

  Jin gave a quiet nod. "Of course."

  A few silent moments passed. Then Elin turned back, resolve in her eyes.

  "I’m ready."

  She took Ezren’s hand gently in hers.

  "Ezren… since you’re part of this world now, this world between worlds… may I ask you a favor?"

  He nodded.

  "Watch over her. My granddaughter. Make sure no misfortune finds her. She’s strong, but… I worry."

  Ezren’s voice was quiet but certain. "I promise. I’ll keep her safe."

  Elin smiled. "Then I can go."

  Ezren took one more breath, then, with steady hands, he pressed the lantern gently to her chest and recited the chant.

  "By light of flame and thread of soul,

  Let peace embrace and make you whole.

  To the River of Veil, where sorrow sleeps,

  Where no more tears the spirit keeps.

  The river waits with silent grace—

  Go home, Elin. Find your place."

  From the lantern-tipped staff, Ezren’s Anima surged forward, a wave of blue light flowing gently into Elin’s spirit. The flames did not burn; they embraced, curling around her form like the arms of an old friend.

  Elin closed her eyes with a peaceful smile.

  Her body shimmered, edges fading like mist at sunrise.

  And then, with one final look of satisfaction, she was gone, her spirit carried away in a silent, swirling embrace of blue flame.

  Jin lowered his head slightly as the last of the light faded.

  "Pacem," he said softly, a final word, both prayer and farewell.

  Meanwhile

  Atop a rooftop nearby, two figures watched silently from the shadows.

  A tall man in a sleek, black formal tuxedo stood with hands behind his back. Beside him, a woman in a matching black suit leaned forward, eyes fixed on the bakery below.

  “So they got to the soul before we could,” the man said coolly.

  The woman’s tone was sharper. “Then we kill them here.”

  The man narrowed his eyes. “You idiot. That’s a captain of a Station. We can’t handle them yet.”

  She scoffed. “Our Lord won’t be happy with this outcome.”

  The man pulled out a sleek phone and made a call.

  “They got to the spirit first,” he said simply.

  A distorted voice answered on the other end. “I see. Then kill those Conductors and come back to base.”

  “There’s a captain among them,” the man said.

  Silence.

  “Return to base and report to the boss,” the voice finally replied.

  The man ended the call. As he looked down again, the doors of the bakery opened.

  Ezren and Jin stepped out, unaware.

  The man’s eyes locked on Jin.

  Recognition flickered.

  His expression twisted with bitter familiarity. "So it was you… you bastard Jin of Station 10," he muttered under his breath, fists tightening at his sides.

  The woman glanced his way. "You're not thinking of—?"

  "No," he said coldly. "Not yet. But one day... I'll repay this humiliation. With interest."

  He stared down as Jin and Ezren walked further from the bakery.

  “Next time,” he muttered, voice low and sharp. “We won’t miss our chance.”

  This chapter was a quiet one, no big battles, no flashy powers. Just a boy, a lantern, and a goodbye.

  Conductor is really about.

  Not just death, but the moment after.

  The kind of goodbye we all wish we had. The promise that someone will be there to walk us home.

  It can be peaceful. It can be kind.

  If it reminded you of someone you lost—

  Or even someone you still miss…

  And you do, too. ??

  breathe.

  To be soft. To matter.

  Because not every fight is loud.

  KMEthan