For the man, it wasn't a particularly bad thunderstorm night. After having lived in Old Dunling for so long, he had experienced worse weather there, so everything now seemed rather mild, and besides, he quite enjoyed this feeling.
The cold air filled his nose and mouth, as if frost was growing along his insides, submerging his consciousness in cold water and vigorously rubbing, stripping away all fatigue and hardship.
"Only those who obey me will dwell safely, enjoying peace without fear of disaster."
He gently touched the scratched cross, murmuring a prayer at his lips.
The man sat on a bench at the platform, with a suitcase placed by his side. It seemed he was preparing to go on a journey, but it was already late at night, the trains had long ceased operation, and the empty platform was left with only him.
