The moment I stepped into the train station, I knew this was going to be a hassle.

People.

People everywhere.

The platform was packed with bodies moving in every direction, the air thick with the sounds of hurried conversations, blaring announcements, and the occasional clatter of rolling suitcases.

The sheer number of people was overwhelming, a chaotic mess of commuters all trying to get to wherever they needed to be.

And here I was, trying to push through it.

I exhaled sharply, adjusting my stance before moving forward.

The crowd pressed in from all sides, making it impossible to walk in a straight line without someone bumping into me.

A businessman in a suit nearly ran into me as he checked his phone, completely oblivious.

A mother holding a small child to her chest maneuvered through the crowd with surprising agility, somehow slipping past where I had been stuck for the past minute.

I tried to sidestep, only for someone’s luggage to roll right into my foot.

“Tch.” I barely held back my irritation, glancing down at the oversized suitcase.

The owner, a short, elderly man with a large pair of glasses, muttered an apology before yanking it forward.

I shook my head and kept moving.

The scent of food from a nearby vendor briefly caught my attention, warm pastries, fried snacks, something sweet, but I pushed the thought aside.

I wasn’t here to eat.

I had somewhere to be, and right now, all I needed was to get through this endless sea of bodies.

A voice over the intercom crackled to life.

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"Attention passengers. The next train to Central District will be departing in five minutes. Please make your way to Platform 3."

I clicked my tongue.

That was my train.

I forced my way through the thickest part of the crowd, squeezing between a group of teenagers chatting loudly about some concert and an office worker balancing a coffee cup and a laptop bag in one hand.

Someone nearly elbowed me in the ribs, and I shot them a look before pressing forward.

This was ridiculous.

I would prefer to move through dangerous environments, dungeons filled with monsters, battlefields where a single misstep meant death, but navigating a train station at rush hour?

This was something I hated.

A large man in front of me suddenly stopped, looking around as if he had lost something, forcing me to halt abruptly.

I clenched my jaw, exhaling through my nose before quickly stepping around him.

Four minutes.

I could see the entrance to Platform 3 now, just beyond another cluster of people gathering near a ticket machine.

Almost there.

I didn’t have time to be polite anymore.

Taking a deep breath, I moved with more purpose, using quick footwork to slip through the gaps in the crowd.

A few people gave me annoyed glances as I passed, but I didn’t care.

I even liked it.

They have done it to others, what is the harm in doing it back, they should taste how it feels.

Three minutes.

The platform entrance was just ahead.

One final push.

The train doors slid open with a hiss, and I stepped inside, scanning the interior.

The carriage was packed.

Every row was filled with people, some chatting quietly, others scrolling through their devices, and a few simply staring out the window, lost in their own thoughts.

A man in a business suit sat with his arms crossed, his briefcase resting on his lap.

A teenager with oversized headphones bobbed his head to music only he could hear.

An elderly woman knitted something with slow, careful movements, her eyes barely flickering up as I passed.

I exhaled.

Great.

I moved further inside, my gaze sweeping across the rows.

The rhythmic hum of the train filled the space, blending with the occasional murmur of conversation and the automated announcements echoing overhead.

No empty seats.

I adjusted the strap of my bag and kept walking.

Standing for the whole ride wasn’t ideal, but if it came to that, so be it.

At least it was better than the chaos outside.

Then, just as I was about to give up, I spotted it, an empty seat near the window, tucked between a sleeping man and a girl focused on her tablet.

Without hesitation, I made my way over, stopping just beside it.

I glanced at the sleeping man, middle-aged, arms folded, his breathing slow and even.

He didn’t even stir as I approached.

I sat down, exhaling slightly as I leaned back.

Finally.

The seat was firm but not uncomfortable, and the cool glass of the window beside me felt like a relief against my arm.

Outside, the city stretched endlessly, tall buildings and flickering billboards flashing by as the train began to move.

I let my shoulders relax.

This wasn’t exactly peace, but compared to the madness of the station and dungeons, it was close enough.