The innocent children suffer from the experiments and turn into twisted monsters. The members of the transport team pay with their lives time and again by venturing into dangerous places. Comrades die swiftly, only to acquire survival supplies, but once these supplies are distributed among people, how many can they really save? It's merely a drop in the bucket.
The long night seems endless; they don't even know what they're fighting for—is it for a tomorrow where not even the outline of dawn can be seen?
No one clearly knows whether their struggle is meaningful, nor do they know if, one day when the meaning manifests, suffering ends, and all graves bloom into flowers, they can see it with their own eyes and personally feel the fervent emotions bursting forth.
Hope is a distant word for everyone born in the bowels of this train.
All they can do is use their lives to fill an endlessly deep chasm, trying to delay the arrival of despair as much as possible.
