Part 2:

The silence inside the bus was deafening. Dozens of eyes were locked onto the older woman in the beige coat. The driver stood like an immovable wall, his arms crossed, waiting.

For a moment, the woman tried to hold onto her pride. She sneered, looking around the cabin, hoping to find a sympathetic face. But she found only disapproval and the cold lenses of several smartphones recording her every move. The weight of public shame began to heavy her shoulders. Her mouth opened, then closed, like a fish out of water.

“Well?” the driver prompted, his voice dropping an octave, carrying the weight of a judge passing sentence. “We’re waiting.”

Realizing she had no escape, the woman turned back to the young man. She opened her mouth to utter a forced, bitter apology. But as she leaned in, the young man slowly raised his head.

For the first time during the entire ride, he looked directly into her eyes.

The hood of his blue sweatshirt slipped back slightly, fully revealing his face—and a silver, intricate crest necklace resting against his collarbone.

The moment the woman’s eyes fell upon the necklace, the words died in her throat. The haughty sneer vanished from her face, replaced by a sudden, paralyzing terror. Her skin went pale, turning almost as white as her pristine coat. She stared at the crest, then at his eyes, her lips trembling.

“You…” she whispered, her voice barely a gasp. “It can’t be. They said… they said none of you survived that night.”

The young man didn’t say a word. His expression remained entirely neutral, but his dark eyes held a cold, knowing intensity that seemed to pierce right through her.

Panic took over the woman. Forgetting her arrogance, forgetting the driver, she stumbled backward, nearly tripping over her own feet. She scrambled toward the front doors of the bus, frantically pounding on the glass.

“Let me out! Open the door! Let me out of here!” she shrieked, her voice cracked with genuine, raw fear.

The driver frowned, glancing between the terrified woman and the calm young man. With a heavy sigh, he hit the lever. The doors hissed open. The woman practically threw herself out onto the asphalt, running down the sidewalk as if fleeing for her life, her beige coat fluttering behind her.

A collective murmur broke out among the passengers. The tension in the air hadn’t dissipated; it had only changed shape.

The driver slowly walked back to his seat, but before he pulled the lever to close the doors, he looked back at the young man. To everyone’s shock, the stern driver bowed his head slightly in a gesture of profound respect.

“Are you safe to proceed, sir?” the driver asked quietly.

The young man nodded once, pulling his hood back over his eyes, retreating once more into the shadows of his sweatshirt. “Yes. Thank you, Marcus.”

How did the driver know his name? Who was this “ordinary” young man, and why did a wealthy-looking woman react with absolute terror at the sight of his necklace?

The bus doors hissed shut, and the engine roared back to life. But as the vehicle merged back into the city traffic, one thing was clear: this was no longer a simple daily commute. It was the beginning of a dangerous reckoning.

Who is the young man on the bus? What happened “that night” that the woman was so terrified of? And what is the driver’s real connection to this mysterious passenger?

Find out in Part 3! Tap ‘All comments’ to stay updated!