Chapter 158 - First Class Star Rail
We ended up having a small pizza party after the heavy discussion with Agent Feena and the ever-smiling Kaiserin. Compared to the tension that had hung over the room earlier, the gathering was modest—no champagne toasts or loud laughter, just the hiss of carbonated cola bottles opening and the comforting scent of lted cheese and spices rising from Samlplatz Pizza boxes. The grease clung to our fingers, the cheese stretched with every bite, and for a brief while, the world outside seed to dim along with the evening sky, which was already lting into darkness around six o’clock.
“Thank you for coming, Myrrh, Zaft!” The Kaiserin lifted her hand in a casual wave, her presence sohow filling the space like sunlight that refused to fade. “Let us et like this again next school year!”
“We promise!” Myrrh replied brightly, waving with her usual enthusiasm.
I, on the other hand, could only glare at the happy-go-lucky Kaiserin—the person who, whether she knew it or not, had beco the bane of my existence. Myrrh noticed my lack of courtesy, of course. Without hesitation, she seized my wrist and yanked it upward, forcing my reluctant hand into an awkward wave.
“Enjoy your vacation, you lovebirds!” Agent Feena chid, her teasing tone sharp enough to make my ears burn.
“Will do!” Myrrh answered with a smile, still holding onto my wrist as if to ensure my hand joined hers in the gesture.
And just like that, the gathering ended. Together, Myrrh and I turned our backs to the KAWAII Office, the building glowing faintly in the dusk like a lantern about to be snuffed out. We walked down the quiet street, our footsteps soft against the pavent, when Myrrh suddenly tilted her head, stepping just slightly into my path, her curious eyes searching mine.
“By the way, Zaft,” she asked in a gentle voice, “when are you going to leave for Earth?”
“Tomorrow,” I replied, the word heavy on my tongue. “Six in the morning.”
“Oh. Hmmm…” She drew back, pressing a finger to her chin, her expression clouded with thought as the night settled around us.
There was a strange silence between us as we walked side by side, the kind that seed to stretch longer than it should have—five seconds that felt like fifty. The only sounds were our synchronized footsteps and the faint hum of streetlights flickering awake in the deepening night.
“Hey, Zaft,” Myrrh finally broke the stillness, her voice quieter than usual. “Rember my promise to you back in the war?”
“Huh?” I tilted my head slightly, my mind turning up empty. The war felt like a lifeti ago, and any promises she might’ve made had long been buried under smoke, fire, and chaos. “Did you promise sothing? Is it about tying you up in bed and taking pictures while you’re fully nude? I think I'll get a lot of cash by selling those pictures.”
Her face instantly flushed a vivid strawberry red, and she stomped her foot so hard the sound echoed down the street. “I did not promise such a thing!” she roared, sparks practically crackling from her embarrassed expression. “The tro rail, Zaft! The tro rail!”
“Oh, right.” I scoffed, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. “You promised to show it to .”
Stopping in front of , Myrrh turned with sudden determination and stretched out her hand. “The supersonic tro rail of Xyraxis isn’t just transportation- it gives you a sweeping tour around the tropolis. Since it’s already night, the city lights will be shining at their brightest. Neon towers, sky bridges, the whole cyberpunk glow. I think it would be the perfect setting for our final date before you go back to Earth.”
Her hand hovered there, waiting.
“Okay then,” I said, smiling despite the storm pounding in my chest. I reached out and clasped her hand. The instant our fingers touched, a spark jolted through , racing up my arm and rattling my ribcage until my heartbeat stuttered like the burst fire of a machine gun. “Lead the way.”
The tro rail station was nearly deserted, its polished floors echoing faintly beneath our footsteps. Only a few travelers lingered here and there, their voices swallowed by the low chanical hum of the rail system. With no lines to slow us down, we walked straight to a booth where I purchased a tro rail card. Sothing told it might co in handy next school year, so I decided it was worth the investnt.
At the glowing hologram kiosk, three options floated in shifting light: First Class, Business, and Economy. I glanced at Myrrh, raising a brow.
“What should we take? Is First Class okay with you?”
“Uh, hahaha…” Myrrh scratched her cheek, her voice uncertain. “I’m a little short on money. Maybe business class will do—”
Before she could finish, I tapped First Class without hesitation, the kiosk chiming as two sleek tickets materialized. “Wrong answer.”
“Ah…” Myrrh’s lips curled into a forced smile, but her shoulders sagged as though she felt guilty for not keeping up.
“Don’t worry, my treat.” I said coolly, striding away like the suave bastard I imagined myself to be.
That was when I felt it—her presence rushing up behind . Myrrh caught up in a flutter of motion, looping her arms around my right arm. Her cheek brushed my shoulder, her body warm against mine. “Thank you, Zaft,” she whispered, her voice carrying a hint of flustered sincerity.
“You’re welco,” I replied, my chest tightening in a way that didn’t match the nonchalance I tried to project.
Fortunately for us, the First Class car was sparsely occupied. Only a handful of people had chosen the luxury ride. The space opened before us like a lounge rather than a train, with six crescent-shaped sofas upholstered in soft leather, each curved around its own polished round table. The gentle glow of neon strips lit the interior, casting hues of violet and aqua across the walls. Each sofa could comfortably seat eight people—but tonight, Myrrh and I would share one all to ourselves.
Just behind our crescent sofa stretched wide glass windows, framing the entire cyberpunk city like a living painting. Neon towers pierced the night sky, their colors bleeding into one another—pink, turquoise, violet—like constellations reimagined in steel and light.
At the very heart of the First Class car stood a round minibar, polished to a mirror sheen. A bartender in crisp uniform moved with practiced elegance, tossing a cocktail shaker high into the air before catching it without so much as a ripple of hesitation. Above him, a golden chandelier glowed warmly, scattering fragnts of light across the polished tables and plush leather seats, bathing the lounge in a soft, dreamlike radiance.
Myrrh and I settled onto our sofa, our shoulders brushing as we waited for departure. The cushions sank beneath our weight, and for a mont, it felt as though ti had stopped. Then, without so much as a jolt, the maglev rail carried us forward. We only realized the journey had begun when the cityscape beyond the glass shifted and began to drift past us like a river of stars.
The tropolis looked even more dazzling at night. Neon signs shimred like galaxies, their reflections streaking across the window. Skyscrapers towered like titans draped in electric light, and at the city’s core stood the Archonlight Tower, its radiant glow unmistakable. A silent guardian—its power once turned against the Cosmic Goddess in the war—now shone like a beacon of protection over the sprawling cybernetic city.
My gaze flicked back to the minibar, where the bartender’s cocktail shaker flashed silver mid-air. The sight reminded of my parched throat, the greasy taste of Samlplatz Pizza still clinging stubbornly to my tongue. Pushing myself to my feet, I stretched lightly.
“Hey, Myrrh,” I called, glancing back at her. “What would you like to drink?”
“Heh?” Myrrh propped her chin on her hand, giving a sly, almost mischievous look. “Are you planning on making drunk?”
“Maybe,” I said with a careless shrug. A smirk tugged at my lips. “That was the plan, actually.”
“Fine then. Give a French 75,” Myrrh said, her tone dripping with sass as she crossed her legs and leaned back like so aristocrat on a throne.
Seriously, I had no idea what the hell a French 75 was, but I wasn’t about to admit defeat. Playing the role of dutiful servant, I strolled to the bar and repeated her order with the confidence of soone who actually knew what he was doing. The bartender didn’t even blink—just pulled out champagne, gin, and a fresh citrus, shaking it together with practiced flair before pouring the golden liquid into a tall flute. So that’s what it was.
As for , my liquor knowledge began and ended with Jas Bond films, so naturally, I asked for a vesper martini. The bartender gave a subtle nod, and within monts, the clear, sharp concoction was slid across the counter to . Two drinks in hand, I returned to Myrrh like a victorious knight bearing tribute.
“Here’s your French 75, Your Royal Highness.” I even gave her a little bow, deep and theatrical, like a butler straight out of an old movie.
“Thank you, my lowly henchman.” Myrrh smirked, flicking her hair with exaggerated flair before plucking the flute from my hand.
“Hey,” I protested, settling beside her, “I went out of my way to order you a classy drink—at my expense, mind you—and you still treat like so disposable goon?”
“I could feel the sarcasm in your voice when you called ‘Your Royal Highness!’” Myrrh shot back, narrowing her eyes mischievously. “I just returned the favor!”
I chuckled, shaking my head, then raised my martini glass and took a long, cool sip. The sharp bitterness bit at my tongue before lting into a smooth aftertaste. Myrrh, not to be outdone, lifted her flute and downed a mouthful of her cocktail, the bubbles fizzing as the citrus hit her palate.
Our eyes t over the rims of our glasses. The corners of our mouths twitched, and before long—
“Hahaha.”
“Hahaha.”
We both burst into laughter, our voices blending with the low hum of the maglev train and the faint jazz drifting from the minibar.
“You know, Zaft… I’ll miss you.” Myrrh’s voice was steady, but her expression was uncharacteristically straight, stripped of its usual sass.
Her words struck like a critical hit straight to the chest. Heat rushed to my face, and I stamred, unable to hide the flush climbing my cheeks. “A-ah, y-yeah. I-I’ll… miss you too. Kinda.”
But Myrrh leaned in, her eyes locking onto mine with a seriousness that left no room for escape. “No, I an it. Even though it’s only two months for the break… I’ll definitely miss you.”
The sincerity in her tone burned hotter than any cocktail could. To hide my embarrassnt, I quickly lifted my glass and downed another mouthful of martini. The bitterness rolled over my tongue, and I felt the woozy warmth settle in my head.
“Woooh.” I exhaled, leaning back against the sofa. “ too. I’ll miss these kinds of dates. You… definitely made experience a lot of new things.”
Her lips curved into a soft smile. “Well, don’t worry. I still owe you two more dates. Once you’re back in Xyraxis, let’s make them count.”
I nodded, my chest tightening as though her promise anchored to this world. “Yeah… I’ll be looking forward to that.”
I turned toward the window, letting the neon cityscape wash over . The tropolis sparkled beneath the night sky, every glowing tower and streak of light a reminder of this fleeting mont—one last night to morize, before everything changed again.
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