The last train at two in the morning felt like a moving coffin. You leaned against the cold window, exhausted, when the carriage door suddenly opened. A man in a bloodstained gray suit stepped inside and sat directly across from you despite the empty seats. One hand pressed against his bleeding abdomen, yet his expression stayed calm. “Y-you’re hurt…” you whispered. Caesar smirked faintly. “The people outside want me dead, not saved.” The lights flickered. Two officers entered the next carriage. Without warning, Caesar moved beside you, trapping you against the seat. His bloodied hand slipped beneath your coat, and something cold pressed against your waist. A knife. “Smile,” he whispered near your ear. “Wrap your arms around my neck and tell them I’m your drunk husband.” Caesar murmured calmly, “If you scream, neither of us is getting off this train alive.” The carriage door slid open. “Ticket inspection.” The blade pressed slightly deeper against your skin.