Once again she is sitting on the train, but in a different seat from before. She occupies the right seat toward the very back of the train car. The conductor, mysterious as ever, stands leaning against the seat across from her. Despite her request for him to sit down, he does not.

“I didn’t realize you’d come back to get me,” she says, not looking at him. “I kind of thought I might just spend forever living that life that wasn’t my own.”

Actually, her sense of time was warped. The important chapters of Seulhee’s life, she experienced in something akin to real time. For other things, though, the less important events, she seemed to fastfoward through it all or skip it entirely. It was like she slid into Seulhee’s mind only at critical moments.

“No, there are more things to come,” the conductor replies. “That was but one stepping stone in the grander picture, the first leg of your journey.”

“Talking in riddles, I see.”

He has no comment for this.

“What was the point of that, anyway? To see someone’s heartbreak?” She remembers the flood of depressing emotions that threatened to drown Seulhee.

“The point of that is that.” The conductor points to her right hand.

Glancing down, she discovers that she has been clutching something tightly. At first, she thinks it’s the letter from Sungyeol, somehow still on her person despite leaving that life behind. However, the color and texture of the paper are wrong. The paper is white and smooth to the touch aside from the wrinkles.

Slowly, she pulls at the corners of the paper, flattening it out. It’s a picture of her with a boy. She looks about thirteen in the photograph, which means it is from almost eight years ago. At first, she doesn’t recognize the boy. Then, upon closer inspection, she realizes that it is Sungyeol. He has since lost a lot of his cheek fat and become more handsome, but the eyes and lips are unmistakably his.

“Oh,” she whispers as she stares at the picture.

She is thirteen once again, and it is her birthday. Sungyeol meets her after school to give her a present. When she opens the little box, she finds a necklace with a golden locket shaped like a star.

“I figured you would prefer a star to a heart,” he says, looking embarrassed but pleased.

She takes it from him, admiring the way it sparkles until the light. “Are you asking me out?” she teases, knowing the answer before he even speaks. They are best friends, nothing more, nothing less.

“Once you get a boyfriend you can put his picture in there.”

“Isn’t it a bit early for that? We’re just entering middle school.”

“You never know. Girls seem to get interested early on,” he jokes. She glares, but she can’t help but laugh along with him.

“Thanks,” she says, hugging him. “You’re the best best friend a girl could ask for.”

“You sound like a broken record, saying that.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Just wait until we’re in high school. You’re going to become all prissy and stop being my friend.”

“No, I won’t.”

“You better not!”

She hadn’t abandoned him in high school. All the way through graduation, they had been nearly attached at the hip still. But after that…

“Hey, why are you calling, Lee Choding?” she yells into the phone. “I have an exam tomorrow. If I fail, it’s your fault.”

“Can’t you spare a moment to talk to me?” comes the peeved reply, though it contains a touch of good-naturedness. “All you ever do is study these days. Relax.”

“I’m falling behind already. High school was easy compared to this. I can’t help it.”

“Fine, study to your heart’s content, I won’t bother you anymore,” he sighs.

His calls become less frequent, and soon enough, they cease altogether.

“Well? What have you found?” The voice of the masked man yanks her back into the present. The way the he phrases these questions, it sounds as if he is asking them rhetorically, as if he has known the answers all along. Which he might, if he knew her before.

“Something I shouldn’t have lost,” the girl replies, tears forming in her eyes.

“Good.” The conductor moves away from the seat, his face turned toward the windows. She follows his gaze, but sees nothing.

“Well, it’s time, again,” he intones.

“What?”

“Your next stop. You have to get off.”

“Already?” It has barely been a few minutes since she got on.

“Yes, I’m afraid.” The train is slowing to a stop now, and he ushers her toward the door. This time, she doesn’t resist at all. Once the movement of the train ceases, she takes the few steps and hops off onto the ground.

“Until next time.” The conductor vanishes back into the train, which begins to move once again.

She watches it go, knowing better than to try and chase after it. It quickly disappears from view, leaving her alone.

“Here I go again,” she mutters, as the darkness claims her a second time.