Bermuda

When moving from a small town like Riverside to another town, no transit permit or identity verification was needed. However, the destination—the station of beginning and end—was located at the edge of Westforce, making the process a bit more complicated. After obtaining a transit permit and ticket in advance, one had to go through identity verification before passing through the gate, just like when entering the boarding area.

For soldiers who usually wore uniforms, the procedure was relatively simple, as their affiliation was essentially equivalent to an ID card. However, it was different for outsiders who covered their faces. Due to increased anxiety in places with high floating populations after the explosion incident a few months ago, those without certified identities underwent inspections several times more thorough.

For this reason, Leonardo, who had been held at the checkpoint for quite some time, was only able to enter the boarding area after about fifteen minutes. The soldier, who had been waiting, offered her water bottle to him as he emerged with a noticeably tired face and asked:

“Why did it take so long? Did they find a bomb in your luggage?”

Though it was probably meant as a joke, the golden eyes turned cold for a moment. Soon, he snorted and shook his head in refusal, answering:

“What are you talking about? It’s because of this.”

As he pulled his hand out of his pocket, a soft light emanated from the wrist where the gold bracelet was worn. It was an item he had received in exchange for selling the heart at a low price to the shop owner.

Since it obviously looked like an ancient relic, they had persistently questioned the identity and origin of the gold bracelet at the checkpoint. Normally, it would have been passed over, but it seemed the ID card he presented at the examination desk was an old-style one, raising the possibility of forgery.

Leonardo, who had judged it better to hide his identity and whereabouts while in Westforce, had presented a transit permit marked with his travel purpose and a fake ID card to the inspector. But was there really nothing at the station of beginning and end? Ironically, while his ID card passed, it was the phrase “travel purpose” that aroused suspicion. The inspectors repeatedly demanded to know what on earth he was going to do at that barren station.

According to the shop owner, there was an inn, so he had thought there would be quite a bit of traffic, but it seemed to be the opposite. After a moment of confusion, Leonardo made up a story—half truth, half lie—saying he had someone he was supposed to meet there. When he shoved his hand in, insisting the gold bracelet was just something he’d worn for a long time, it somehow slipped through.

“Isn’t that something you bought from the old man’s shop? Is there some problem with it?”

“They kept asking where it came from.”

Leonardo, who answered simply, quietly examined the intaglio engraved on the bracelet. Though it was partly because he hadn’t properly explained its origin, the biggest issue that had kept him detained was actually the bracelet itself.

“Hmm... It seems the inspection has been tightened compared to before. By the way, are you going to keep wearing that bracelet?”

“Probably. Why?”

“I think it would be better to put it away somewhere. Pickpockets are common on the train. Of course, they wouldn’t dare approach with me around.”

When the greenhorn spoke with her hands on her hips, her credibility dropped sharply. Leonardo still heeded her and removed the bracelet from his wrist. Soon, he stuffed all his valuables into a small bag that crossed his torso. Normally, he would have # Nоvеlight # put it in his artifact for safekeeping, but this bracelet had a peculiarity.

‘Why on earth won’t it go into the artifact?’

Just after leaving the supply shop, and before entering the checkpoint, he had tried several times to put the bracelet into the artifact, but it kept being pushed out of the distorted space. He had heard that such items occasionally existed, but it was disorienting when he actually experienced it. It was as if the bracelet refused to enter the interdimensional space—or conversely, as if the artifact was rejecting the bracelet.

He had brought it because it was the most attractive item the shop owner was selling, but he felt uneasy, wondering if it might also be cursed.

Anyway, after roughly organizing his belongings, Leonardo checked the giant clock hanging in the center above the lined-up boarding gates.

“What time does it depart?”

“It already passed, but the trains here are often late. It’ll probably arrive soon.”

Just then, a train whistle sounded from far away with a “paaang—.” The sound bounced off the semicircular ceiling, drawing the attention of people in the station.

“There it comes.”

The lead car of the black, heavy train approached the station along the tracks, scattering hazy steam. The outline of the iron horse gradually became clearer as it crossed the shimmering heat haze. The heavy iron wheels, rotating in a steady rhythm, began to slow, and now and then the body of the train shuddered with sharp friction sounds.

As the train slid into the station building and passed before their eyes, traces of soot and grease shimmered everywhere. It seemed true they were using converted trains that had hauled materials during the war to carry passengers. It was so weathered its age couldn’t even be guessed.

Along with the wind that ruffled his hair, the scent of heated iron and coal brushed his nose. Leonardo suddenly recalled the scenery in front of the gate where he had last exchanged greetings with His Grace, through gaps in the billowing black steam.

It was a moment he couldn’t forget in many ways. On the other hand, an embarrassing thought crossed him—whether that person might also think of him when seeing a steam train.

People sitting in the waiting room all turned their heads, checked their tickets, and began to move. Leonardo and the greenhorn in her military gear also walked toward boarding gate number 7 printed on their tickets.

A moment later, the red signal light flashed, and the iron wheels came to a complete stop. Smoke announcing the halt poured from the chimney of the lead car.

*****

Though it was a hastily purchased ticket, since it was a train that traveled such a long distance, they were fortunate enough to find empty seats in the third-class section. Third-class was far from private, but there was enough space to sit face-to-face with a companion and chat.

Although the seats were packed close together, the fact that there were seats at all was a consolation, given they still had about five hours to travel.

Between the single-person chairs facing each other, there was enough space to lower a table attached to the wall. And currently, on the makeshift table spread out in front of Leonardo, all kinds of food sold on the train were scattered.

“...Is it delicious?”

Leonardo, who had purchased a newspaper he didn’t usually read to cover his face, asked glumly to the person who had swept up food like an uncontrolled portal.

The soldier, who had taken a big bite of a croquette, nodded with shining eyes. Anyone watching would think she hadn’t eaten for days. Leonardo chided her to eat slowly, but still pushed the sandwich he had left for himself toward her.

The soldier asked with a puzzled expression while chewing:

“Aren’t you eating?”

“I’m not hungry.”

At the worst possible timing, a rumbling sound came from Leonardo’s stomach. It wasn’t very loud, but it was a signal clearly audible to the person sitting across from him.

For a moment, an awkward silence fell, and the soldier burst into laughter first, cutting the croquette she was eating in half and offering it.

“You eat some too.”

“I told you I’m not hungry.”

“Eat before you get hungrier. It’s bought with your money anyway.”

She smiled playfully and urged him again. Leonardo, who had been protesting meaninglessly, hesitated for a long time, but reluctantly accepted the offered croquette. He glanced around nervously, lowered his face mask slightly, and quickly stuffed it into his mouth.

Afterward, he covered his face with the mask and newspaper as if nothing had happened. Since it was covered before she could properly see, the soldier took a sip of water in disappointment and casually asked:

“Isn’t it stuffy? It must be hot if you keep doing that.”

“I don’t get hot easily. Unless I’m near lava.”

“What’s that, strange pride. By the way, I still don’t know your name. What’s your name? I’m Signe. You can call me Sig.”

“...Le, no. Tergio. Call me Teo.”

“Teo, that’s a nice name.”

Signe continued to share personal stories after that. Her main interest was talk about the military, followed by her desired posting and worries about whether she could do well.

Though it was a prejudice, it seemed true that people from Westforce had more relaxed personalities and were more sociable than those from the central region. Thanks to this, even Leonardo, who had been keeping some distance, ended up asking a few questions of his own.

“Do you know exactly what the station of beginning and end is? When I said earlier I was traveling there, people at the checkpoint looked at me like I was suspicious.”

“You said you’re traveling there? No wonder it took so long. Of course they’d look at you strangely.”

Signe giggled and explained the origin of the station’s name—beginning and end.

“It’s a station located exactly at the midpoint between the central region and Westforce, most commonly used to mean the beginning and end of Westforce. And the other thing... In the past, when plagues were rampant, they often dumped the bodies of dying people or criminals there, but the bodies always disappeared without a trace.”

“The bodies disappeared?”

“Yeah. But there’s also a story that those bodies weren’t really dead—they only pretended to be, because they could escape oppression if they just reached there. You know, even within the empire, there are plenty of criminal dens that are hard to deal with. Slums like Barmot or Libertas. Like those places, they were deliberately dumped somewhere beyond the state’s control, then escaped, abandoned their identities, and lived new lives.”

Signe explained that there was also a saying the name beginning and end was attached in the sense of connecting the end and beginning of one person’s life.

Leonardo quietly listened to her words. Just as a place with a similar texture flashed through his mind, Signe drove the point home:

“So some people also call it Bermuda Station.”