Rubuska: This is illegal, you know? Criminal! Let me out.
Rubuska: Let me out.
The girl shouts, pressing her right ear hard against the door, desperate to melt into it.
"Tap, tap ... tap ..."
The footsteps grow fainter, echoing down the empty hallway.
Rubuska: Phew, finally gone. Alright, Rubuska, what's next?
She pulls a metal trinket from her rags and brings it to the lock.
Rubuska: Think this lock'll stop me, eh?
Rubuska: Hmph. You're going to have to try harder than that.
Rubuska: Gotcha!
The door opens, only to a sliver, just wide enough for a ruby eye.
Rubuska: Okay, coast is clear.
Rubuska: Hah. Easy. You've done it again, Rubuska.
She plants her hands on her hips triumphantly, only one more step before freedom.
Aima: Rubi?
Rubuska: ...!
Rubuska: Wh-Where did you come from?
Aima gestures behind her. As the door swings open, the small stewardess is revealed, standing in place.
Rubuska: You, I, uh ...
Caught off guard, Rubi freezes. She doubts her chances to talk her way out of this.
Rubuska: Alright, I'm caught. So, what, you going to report me to your boss?
Aima: Shh ...
The stewardess presses a finger to her lips and winks at Rubuska.
Aima: Be quiet, or they'll hear you.
Aima: Are you afraid? I can smell it on you.
Rubuska: Afraid? scoff Clearly you don't know me. So, are you going to tell them or not?
Aima: As long as you don't go running off, I won't.
She checks the hall, then slips inside, delicately closing the door.
Rubuska: So, uh, why are you here? Where's the conductress?
Aima: They're in the brake van. Ms. Semmelweis needs to check over some files.
Aima: Don't worry. Anyway, it's a bit dull all alone in here. Why don't we have a chat? Come, sit next to me.
Aima reclines on the sofa, patting the space beside her.
Rubuska: I …
The girl glances at her dark palms and ragged cuffs.
Rubuska: My clothes are kind of dirty. I don't wanna mess up your sofa.
Aima: Really, I don't mind.
Rubuska: ...
Warm words don't reach her. She stays rooted to the floor.
Aima: Hmm, then how about ...
The stewardess claps her hands, then seizes Rubuska as if inspired.
Aima: Ah! Let's get you changed! Then you can join me without a worry!
Rubuska: Wait, I didn't—Ah, Lord, you're strong!
Aima: Not this ... or this one ... Ah! Found you!
Aima: Here, put this on!
Rubuska: ...
Aima: Oh my! You look wonderful!
Rubuska: Does it fit?
Aima: Oh, it fits you splendidly!
Aima: I hereby declare that these clothes are yours to keep!
Rubuska: R-Really?
God knows how long it's been since she's worn clean clothes.
Red-and-white stitching traces arcs across the hem of her skirt.
She chokes back words, trying to believe what she sees.
Rubuska: Thank you, Aima.
Rubuska: Hold on, why don't you have a mirror in your room? You've got so many clothes.
The stewardess shyly touches her eyepatch.
Aima: Oh, I don't much like mirrors. My eyes aren't very pretty.
Rubuska: What're you talking about?! You, I mean, your eyes, um, eye looks good—more than good! You're ...
Rubuska: Well, in short, you're good through and through!
She scratches her head, gaze sliding to the pile of garments stacked nearby.
Rubuska: I used to have a closet like yours, filled with silks, cashmere, corduroy ... All kinds.
Rubuska: Did you buy all these clothes yourself?
Aima: Oh, no. Most of them are from a family member.
Aima: He said that life as a stewardess is as boring as our uniforms, so whenever he goes off on a long trip, he buys me new clothes.
Aima: That way, no matter how far apart we are, I always feel like he's right here with me.
Rubuska: Family. Pft, boring! By the time I was your age, I'd already been halfway around the peninsula all by myself.
Aima: Haha, goodness, that sounds wonderful! But I think my life is rather pleasant too.
Aima: Every day the train welcomes new passengers, all bringing their own stories. I can "travel" without ever having to leave.
Aima: And the conductress looks after us. I know she seems stern and maybe a little angry, but she's truly lovely underneath, and a wonderful tailor too!
She points to the row of matryoshkas by the window.
Aima: See the clothes on the matryoshkas? She made every single one. Aren't they darling?
Each wears a colorful knit sweater, their smiles stiff yet harmless.
Rubuska: ...
Rubuska: Wait, sorry. Are there two conductresses on this train?
Rubuska: I mean, I just, no, I can't picture it at all.
Rubuska jerks her head, attempting to banish the uncanny image.
Rubuska: That conductress? Knitting little sweaters?
Rubuska: shudder Just imagining it is giving me the creeps.
Corvus: ...
Semmelweis: Conductress, you dropped this.
A ball of red yarn rolls to Semmelweis's feet.
She picks it up, handing it back to the conductress.
Corvus: Thank you. All the files are here. Logbook's in the first drawer on the left; shift handover logs are at the bottom of the second drawer on the right; dispatch instructions are on the table.
Semmelweis: Much appreciated. Thank you again for your cooperation.
Without a word, Corvus resumes her handiwork; the scarf billows out with every stitch, keeping silent company.
A rare moment of peace. Perhaps a chance to understand each other.
Semmelweis: The stitching on this is immaculate. I'm surprised to see you're fond of needlework.
Corvus: It's a common skill, nothing special.
Blunt words, blunt endings. The topic dies.
The investigator returns to her files, scanning endless logs and numbers until she finds another opening.
Semmelweis: The name of this train is very intriguing to me. The "Danube Dawn" ... Does it hold any special meaning?
Corvus: ...
The carriage hums with the grinding of wheels.
Another topic dies.
Semmelweis: Sorry. I've never been much good at small talk or knowing when it's appropriate or with whom ...
Corvus: To unite all regions along the Danube.
Semmelweis: ...?
Corvus: You asked if it meant something.
She pauses her work to meet the investigator's eyes.
Corvus: It's simple: Unite all regions along the Danube, and ...
Corvus: Move forward into the new day as one.
Rubuska: Unite all regions?
Elsewhere, two girls lean against one another on a plush sofa, feeling the rhythmic tremor of the wheels beneath them.
Aima: From Istanbul to Vienna, through Belgrade, Nika, and Budapest ...
Fingers trace lazy lines through the air.
Aima: See how the train is like a line connecting all the dots along the Danube?
Rubuska: Huh. Makes the war seem even more ironic.
Aima: Well, I don't really understand all that's going on out there.
Aima: But I do know that I like this name. The "Danube Dawn"—it sounds warm and bright, like we're all a big family.
Aima: What you said earlier about putting people in boxes—I feel the same way. Why can't they just sit down and have a good chat, like we're doing now?
Rubuska brightens.
Rubuska: I know, right? Haha, I knew we'd get along!
Aima: Of course! I get along with all types. Humans, arcanists, vampires ...
She makes a sly glance toward Rubuska.
Aima: Actually, you're the first vampire I've ever met. It's a little strange and new, but I'm not scared. I like you.
Rubuska: Hah, yeah! You're not so bad yourself. But, is there actually anyone you don't like?
The stewardess tilts her head back in deep thought.
Aima: Hmm, I can't think of anyone.
Rubuska: Hmph, knew it. You like everyone, and everyone likes you. Like a happy little princess.
The "princess" nods, graciously accepting her teasing.
Aima: I'm grateful for the life I'm living, and I hope you are too.
Aima: My only wish is that everyone could live together peacefully.
She clasps Rubuska's hand.
Aima: Like this, see—
Aima: Our fingers are born separate and alone.
Aima: But if we lock them together, they become one. Nothing can break them apart.
Rubuska: Pft, no, they don't. I could break free anytime I want, oh.
The girl recoils slightly, but Aima's grip holds, gentle yet firm.
Aima: Do you want to break free, Rubi?
Rubuska: I …
Her pale hands are nearly translucent, faint blue veins showing through.
Palm to palm, those threads intertwine, binding them.
Rubuska: ...
Semmelweis: Unite together and move into a new day as one? That's a truly unimaginable concept.
Dream though it was, the spirit of the times brought many who believed it could be real,
wanting to believe the lands along the Danube could live as one.
Semmelweis: Idealism does often come hand in hand with impracticality.
Semmelweis: Still, it's admirable to stand firm in your beliefs. Impractical or not, I respect it.
Corvus: ...
Her unexpected approval is met with an equally strange curiosity.
Her needles continue their motion. With her left hand, she loops the yarn over the right needle's tip, then deftly draws it back down.
Each pull tightens the fabric, fortress walls forming beneath her fingers.
When she speaks again, her voice has softened.
Corvus: It's no difference to me. This is only a job.
Corvus: Deliver thirteen carriages and our passengers from one point to another safely. That's it.
Semmelweis: Thirteen carriages? Are you sure?
The investigator catches the crucial number.
Semmelweis: Seems unusual to choose an unlucky number for a train.
The needle halts.
Corvus: I meant ... including the locomotive.
Corvus: "Rolling stock," then? I didn't want to be too technical.
Semmelweis: It's fine, really. I suppose I should wish you luck, Conductress.
Semmelweis: After all, it is our common goal to have the train arrive safely, yes?
Corvus: Which is why you've been allowed access here. Now ...
The last stitch done, Corvus sets her work aside.
A soft red scarf now rests in her lap.
Semmelweis: It's a beautiful scarf. I'm sure Aima will appreciate it.
Corvus: Thank you.
A flicker of a smile.
Her gaze slips to the clock, checking the time.
Corvus: Have you made any progress?
Semmelweis: Not much, but I did find something helpful—the ticket reservation log. Could be useful to cross-check against what our passengers said.
She nods.
Corvus: Good. We've been here long enough.
Corvus: If you'll excuse me, I have a job to do.
Semmelweis: It's been a pleasure working with you, Conductress.
Together, they rise and step out.
A blizzard rages outside, buffeting the train as it speeds into the night.
