Chapter 1

The phone in his pocket vibrated twice—this was the fifth time in three minutes. Brian Carter opened his eyes.

The ride had already lasted nearly three hours, and the sky outside the window was still gloomy. The girl sitting next to him was still asleep, her forehead resting firmly on his shoulder, leaving his right shoulder completely numb.

He shrugged irritably, but the girl only shifted her head a little. He used his fingers to push her head away, but within seconds, her head flopped right back onto his shoulder.

This had happened so many times that he felt the girl wasn't just asleep—she must be unconscious for this to keep happening.

Annoyed.

He had no idea how much longer until they reached the station. He hadn't checked when he got the ticket; all he knew was that he was heading to a small city he hadn't even heard of before this trip.

Life is strange like that.

When the phone vibrated for the sixth time, Brian Carter sighed and pulled it out.

-What's going on?

-Why didn't you mention you were leaving before?

-Why did you leave so suddenly?

-Why didn't you tell me?

How, how, how, why, why, why, BLABLABLABLA...

The messages were from Grace Foster, probably unable to call because she was in a tutoring session. At a glance, all he saw were question marks.

He was about to put the phone back in his pocket when the seventh message came through.

-If you don't reply, we're breaking up!

Finally, not a question mark. He breathed a sigh of relief, turned off the phone, and put it away.

Breaking up didn't mean much to him. High school relationships that lasted a couple of months were just about talking more than other classmates, having someone bring you breakfast, or a personal cheerleader at basketball games... They never even got to the point of doing anything more.

Watching the scenery outside the window, which kept changing yet somehow always looked the same, he finally heard the broadcast announce his destination. The girl next to him stirred, looking like she was about to wake up. He quickly pulled a red marker out of his backpack, uncapped it, and spun it in his hand.

The girl woke up, lifted her face, and there was a big mark on her forehead, as if she'd been practicing some kind of martial arts.

When their eyes met, the girl wiped her mouth, pulled out her phone, and mumbled, "Sorry," while typing.

She didn't even sound apologetic? Brian Carter gave her a meaningful smile. The girl froze, her gaze landing on the marker spinning in his hand.

Brian Carter snapped the cap back onto the marker with a loud click.

Two seconds later, she suddenly covered her face and rushed toward the restroom.

Brian Carter stood up too, glanced out the window. The sky had been gloomy the whole way, and now it was finally snowing. He took his suitcase down from the luggage rack, put on his coat, and walked to the door, pulling out his phone and turning it on.

The phone was quiet. No more messages from Grace Foster, no missed calls.

It felt like this was the most peaceful moment Grace Foster had given him in all the time they'd been together—not easy.

But no one else had contacted him either.

For example, the person he thought would come pick him up.

Following the crowd out of the station, Brian Carter zipped his down jacket all the way up and looked at this city, which seemed so gray and bleak in the cold winter.

The chaos and dilapidation around the train station were his first impression of this city.

No, this was actually his second impression. The first was the confusion in his mind when his mom said, "Go back, that's your real home."

He dragged his suitcase to the southernmost edge of the station square, where there were fewer people. Next to him was a small street lined with shady-looking inns you might never come out of, and restaurants that looked like you'd get food poisoning if you ate there.

He sat down on his suitcase, pulled out his phone and checked again—still no one had contacted him.