The workstation in a remote location emitted an air of decay, as though it hadn’t been used for a long time. The transmission antenna wobbled precariously, and parts of the structure were even covered in rust.

I could understand the desire to escape the hustle and bustle, but in such cold weather, coming all the way to this station at the edge of the region seemed a bit excessive.

Through the frosted glass window, blurred shadows moved, confirming for me that the platform was not completely deserted. The control panel didn’t appear to be powered, so I knocked on the metal sliding door and watched as the light beneath the door’s seam shifted.

74258 hesitated behind the door for a while. When he finally opened it and saw that it was me, he looked quite surprised, but quickly relaxed into a smile.

“I didn’t see you at the banquet,” 74258 said as he let me in. I watched him operate a series of levers and pulleys before closing the door and speaking again. “Not a fan of crowded places?”

“You could say that.” The fox shrugged. “I just got a new pair of boots, and I didn’t want them getting vomit on them.”

I immediately noticed signs that he was lying—months of conversation had taught me to recognize when this fox was holding something back or trying to avoid a subject. He always averted his gaze to the floor, his ears drooping slightly at the tips.

I wasn’t sure which part of the conversation had triggered that reaction, but when I saw the dark green sleeping bag on the floor and the clothes hanging up to dry beside it, I understood.

“They didn’t assign you a berth?” My tone came out more forcefully than I had intended. I did have some personal belongings stored at the station and would occasionally sleep there when things got busy, but that was a privilege, not...

“Uh... they did.” 74258 gestured toward the sleeping bag, though he still couldn’t meet my eyes, clearly unable to convince even himself.

I sighed, leaning against the terminal desk, placing my tail on it as well. After all, this situation might actually make it easier for me to achieve my goal, so I might as well take advantage of it.

“You’ve got quite the adaptability,” I said, spreading my hands to show my disapproval and resignation. “Is there really nothing you can’t tolerate?”

“Well…” He tilted his head and scratched the fur near his collar. “I’m the kind of person who just goes with the flow. If I had to say the one thing I came closest to not being able to stand, it would be executions—like 76123’s.”

“Adam.” Once again, I spoke before I even realized it.

“Sorry, what did you say?” 74258 looked up, giving me a puzzled glance.

“His name,” I replied slowly, realizing it was the first time I had mentioned it to anyone else.

“Oh!” 74258 tilted his head to the side again, still not quite grasping the significance. “Is that an Eastern custom?”

“No, he just gave himself that name.” An unexpected sting of sadness surged to my nose, and my vision blurred, though I still managed to finish the sentence. “Adam was always doing those nonsense.”

I refused to acknowledge the thickness in my voice, pretending to casually wipe my nose.

“My manners! Rationalism!” 74258 suddenly slapped his forehead and exclaimed, “Talking with a dry throat won’t do at all, right?” Perhaps out of consideration for my dignity, the fox didn’t comment on the fact that I had wiped my eyes, instead gesturing toward the back door of the station.

I wasn’t sure what he meant by this, but when 74258 waved again, I followed him outside, into the open space where junk was piled behind the building.

“I don’t have anything particularly fancy to offer, but this will have to do,” he said as he tinkered with a contraption made of pipes and tanks. After adjusting a few valves, he produced two metal cups, filling one with liquid from a spout and then scraping the foam off the top with a wrench.

“To our health.” As soon as I took the drink from the fox, he raised his cup to eyebrow level and said this before gulping down a large mouthful of the bubbling liquid.

I wasn’t used to seeing 74258 act this enthusiastic. But since I couldn’t see anything to complain about, I mimicked his actions, taking a big sip of the fizzy liquid.

If you ask me, it was too sweet for my taste and probably too cold because the brewing setup was left outside. But as the drink slid down my throat, the tiny bubbles popped against the lining of my mouth, and a unique fragrance rose from the root of my tongue.

It was quite the experience. I could see myself growing fond of this sparkling fruit wine.

“You should consider starting your own brand,” I said as I wiped the foam from the corners of my mouth. “Does this stuff have a name?”

74258 tilted his head slightly, as if he hadn’t thought of it before.

“Moonshine,” he said after glancing up at the sky, then smiled.

I followed his gaze, trying to understand the connection, but all I saw was a faint misty formation scattered across the sky.

My confusion only deepened 74258’s smile. He took another sip of the drink before holding his cup out toward me.

I tilted my head, unsure what he meant by this, but the fox simply held his cup there, the same smile on his face.

A cold gust of wind blew through, causing both of us to shiver. And at that moment, I understood.

The liquid in the cup reflected the dim light from above, shimmering like broken ribbons of light dancing in my hand.

“Moonshine!” I exclaimed in sudden realization. “I never understood what that meant before.”

74258 shrugged, refilled his drink, and then clinked his cup against mine, causing some of the liquid to splash into my cup.

“Apparently, people used to do this,” he explained when he saw my confusion at the unsanitary action. “To show they trusted each other, proving there was no poison.”

“People of the past sure knew how to treat their guests,” I said mockingly, taking another sip.

74258 shrugged again, making a face that showed he agreed.

For a while, neither of us spoke. We just drank our drinks. In the cold air, the tiny bubbles bursting in the cups were clearly audible.

"The Scientific Council's traveling libraries also comes to the West Coast, doesn’t it?" After a long pause, I heard myself slowly ask.

"Four times a year," 74258 scratched his chin as he answered. "But where I come from, people aren’t all that enthusiastic about it."

"It’s about the same here. But Adam is an exception—he’s always excited when the 'priests' arrive." I gave a wry smile, making a gesture asking for leniency, hoping to be forgiven for using such a nearly blasphemous term. "Every time the traveling libraries stays, Adam would spend hours buried in the piles of books."

I gently placed the empty metal cup to the side, my fingers tracing along the rim.

"Ever since we were cubs, Adam’s always been this way, absolutely engrossed in reading. One time, I even found him clutching a cookbook, studying it intently all afternoon." I raised my head and took a deep breath of the cold air, feeling the sharp sting fill my chest. "My interests were always more narrow, focused on... distant topics. But books on those subjects were rare, not something that appeared on every time. So whenever Adam found a book he thought I might like, he’d bring it to me."

The sky, hazy with shimmering dust, made me realize for the first time just how nonsense my interests truly were, too. But I couldn’t bear to erase the image of Adam excitedly running to me, clutching The Naked Sun, as he always remembered how much I liked The Caves of Steel.

"It sounds like you two were very close," 74258 said.

"Yeah." Just mentioning him sent a stabbing pain from my fingertips that was almost unbearable. "Though it might sound like bragging, being too talented does attract jealousy. Most of the other red foxes didn’t like me much, except for Adam." I glanced at 74258, guessing he was in a similar situation.

"Oh," he quickly understood what I meant, looking away awkwardly. "Actually, people used to really respect me, and I was treated better than the arctic foxes."

I raised an eyebrow, asking for further explanation, but he avoided my gaze.

Fine, seems like no matter how I guess, I’m bound to be wrong.

"Anyway, during one of the traveling libraries, Adam found a very special book." It was bound in leather, and it looked like it was hundreds of years old. Even now, I could still recall the smooth texture and smell, suspecting that something so beautiful could only be made through murder. "You’ll never believe what it was." 74258 turned back, tilting his head with a questioning look, but I didn’t plan to keep him in suspense. "It was a religious text."

"Would that be banned on the East Coast?" 74258 tilted his head the other way, leaving me puzzled. "All types of religious texts are protected under the 'Library of Alexandria Decree.' As long as there’s no intent to spread superstitious rituals or related activities, local lords and even the Scientific Council itself can’t interfere with reading, discussion, or copying."

Though I’d never seriously studied the multitude of laws, this was the first I’d heard of it. But the fox waved it off, signaling that it wasn’t important and apologizing for the interruption, urging me to continue.

"Anyway, he must’ve found the name in some fable and thought it suited him." It wasn’t until my lips touched the cold metal that I realized the cup was already empty. "I always thought giving yourself a name was meaningless since there’d never be a chance to use it, so I wasn’t too interested when he decided on 'Adam' for himself."

The sharp pain of my nails digging into my palms in clenched fists questioned what I’d be willing to sacrifice just to return to that boring moment.

"He even picked a name for me. When I asked why he chose it, he just said, ‘It suits you.’" I let out a soft laugh, remembering the way it sounded and the odd vibration in my mouth when I said it. "Abel." As if afraid of forgetting, I repeated it. "He called me ‘Abel.’"

74258 didn’t respond. When I glanced at him, I saw the fox staring down at his cup.

"I know what you’re thinking— ‘That's so casual." I mocked myself, leaning casually against the metal railing beside me, curling my tail around myself to fend off the dropping temperature. "If you’re going to pick a name for yourself, shouldn’t it be something with a bit more significance, or at least something profound?"

I never did ask Adam why he thought it suited me.

"No..." 74258 said softly, raising his head and meeting my gaze with his olive-colored eyes. "Since it’s from a friend, it’s an extraordinary and priceless gift."

No matter how many differences there were between me and this fox, revealed time and time again in various ways, in this brief moment, I truly felt a warmth of understanding.

"One day, Adam discovered a message hidden within the pages of a book." I brushed my fingers across the metal railing, feeling the fine engravings on its surface. "On certain pages, there were tiny, deliberate cuts. If you didn’t pay close attention, you’d think they were just tears in the paper. Adam didn’t notice at first either. It wasn’t until we found this feature in more than one book that we realized it was a code." I grasped the metal railing, feeling my body heat drain away. "Every book with those patterned cuts mentioned the same thing—railroads."

74258 listened quietly, but when I mentioned the 'railroads,' I noticed his ears twitch.

"We spent so much time deciphering what it meant." I stood upright and shoved my hands into my pockets—the air was getting cold enough to make me uncomfortable. "It was a sixteen-digit code, and by inputting it along with the regional code, you could generate a new password." I tapped the collar around my neck with my fingernail and turned to face 74258 directly. "Someone left a backdoor in the system when it was first built, and that sixteen-digit code is the key to gaining access."

74258 still said nothing, but I knew he had heard the rumors—we all had, floating around in whispers with no one sure of their origin. But unlike others, we had proven it to be true.

"Imagine the surreal feeling of gaining administrator privileges. We stood in front of the terminal, stunned for several minutes." All the entries and data laid bare before us, nothing withheld. "Before, escaping this cursed place was just a fantasy we mentioned while complaining about our reality. But now, it had become possible."

I slipped my thumb between the gaps in my collar, feeling the uncomfortable tightness and the insignia engraved inside.

"We spent years studying how the serf system was built, how it connected with parallel or subordinate systems." I pulled the collar harder until it became difficult to breathe, then let go. "We finally completed all the preparations needed to escape this Rationalism forsaken place—death certificates, fake identities, travel permits—everything except for the final step to execute the plan. But everything was going so smoothly that we got careless."

No... I got careless. It was my fault...

"Adam was caught when he accessed the system with the administrator privileges." I shook my head violently, determined to shut out the guilt, knowing that bottomless abyss would consume me whole if I didn’t. "He was taken away and disappeared for three months, and then... " I waved my hand dismissively at 74258, trying to appear nonchalant—probably an attempt to convince myself. "...You saw what happened after that."

The fox shifted uncomfortably, wrapping his tail around himself.

"In three months, the system will reset. Even if I can still use the original backdoor, all the years of work will be wasted." I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to keep my tone steady. "And I don’t want it to go to waste."

74258 sighed, taking the cup from my hand and refilling both of our drinks.

"I assume you’re telling me this for a reason?" After handing me the cup, he asked quietly.

"The migration permits and death certificates need to be handled through the city hall’s system, and the procedure requires at least two people—two skilled hackers." I downed the sparkling wine in one gulp, laying all my cards on the table for the red fox. "Help me, and you can take the place originally meant for Adam to get out of here." I forced myself to lock eyes with 74258, his olive eyes staring back at me. "Please." The plea slipped through my clenched teeth like a dying gasp.

"I..." The fox’s eyes were full of hesitation, and I couldn’t help but grip the cup tightly. "...I don’t know." He sighed and slumped down.

"Why?" Even though I couldn’t understand his reasoning at all, I knew my worst fear had come true, and I couldn’t hold back the shout. Sure, we had our differences, but come on, your brain’s not broken, is it? "What part of this Rationalism cursed place makes you want to stay?"

"I just don’t see how running away, leaving, or fighting back benefits anyone," 74258 said slowly, flattening his ears to the sides. "And besides, where would you even go?"

"North!" I tried to hold back, but I couldn’t help but continue shouting. "Across the Labrador Sea, on Greenland’s soil, we’d be in the Grand Duchy of Germany!"

 It doesn’t benefit anyone? How dare you say that? And with that tone, as if we haven't thought this through, like it’s just a spur-of-the-moment decision? No, I still need him. I can't risk angering this strange-thinking fox.

'Why do you think that once we reach the Grand Duchy of Germany, everything will get better?' 74258 asked softly, staring at his shoes.

'At least there, serfs can choose where they live freely, they can even change careers and alter their social class!' In desperation, I realized that convincing him might be impossible. I had thought that 74258 would have a motive to leave due to the inexplicable unfair treatment he'd received—but that was all just my fantasy.

But why, why? Is it possible that some people, deep down, really just... just...

'And that would solve all your problems?' he said coolly, looking up and meeting my gaze. In his olive eyes, I recognized that hopeless look—one I had only ever seen in people who knew they didn’t have long to live. 'You know that Duchies can request the return of their "property," right?'

'But that rarely happens, doesn't it?' Why? Adam endured all sorts of unimaginable tortures and never gave up; he fought till the very last moment. What right do you have to show that kind of look? 'And this is our only chance!'

'Maybe... for you it is.' He said slowly, and I had to muster every ounce of self-control not to lunge at him and strangle this fox.

'Are you really satisfied with your life right now? Aren't you even a little angry about how they treat you? Can you really live like this, is this something you can get used to?' I tried to understand 74258, but I found it impossible.

'Honestly, it’s not that big of a deal.' He shrugged and Earlered. 'We have enough to eat, enough to wear, we get good medical care, a roof over our heads to keep out the wind and rain, and work that’s not too harsh. That's better than what most commoners get.'

'Because happy slaves are more productive, but that doesn't mean they're not slaves!' I tugged at the collar around my neck to emphasize my point.

'Apart from not being able to move freely, we’re basically not restricted. Many commoners never leave the city they were born in. There are many forms of freedom, and many of them aren't necessary.' He said as he idly combed the tip of his tail.

'You’ve got to be joking.' Is this fox serious? 'What happens when you suddenly realize there's a freedom you need, but can’t have?'

'That's never happened.' 74258 shrugged again. 'And I can't imagine it happening in the foreseeable future. Besides, we're creatures of habit; there's nothing we can't get used to.'

'Even the way they treat you doesn't bother you?' I gestured angrily at the rundown workstation. 'They didn’t even hook you up to the power!'

'In some ways, I brought it on myself.' His eyes grew a little distant as he continued grooming his fur. 'I slept with the Earl's son.'

'What, just that?' If I wasn’t so furious, I’d have burst out laughing. 'What is this, the barbaric era before the empire?'

'That’s just how it looks on the surface,' 74258 muttered, still fiddling absently with his tail. 'Haven’t you heard what they say about those who "raise their tails"?'

'I’ve never heard of such a strange notion from the west coast, but doesn't that prove even more that staying here is bad for you?' This was my last shot. I didn’t know what else to say if even this didn’t matter to him.

'That’s why I’m staying somewhere that’s relatively "nothing,"' 74258 said helplessly. 'The Earl of San Francisco is very old. He’ll die soon, and when that happens, 86142 won't have to yield to the pressure of the nobility, and he’ll stop targeting me.'

74258’s attitude left me speechless, completely unsure of what to say next.

'I really appreciate your kindness and trust,' he said, letting go of his tail and standing up straight, meeting my eyes. 'Just telling me these things puts you at great risk.'

Logically, I understood that many people must think this way, otherwise how could the empire have lasted a thousand years? But I was too angry now to accept 74258's hints to drop the subject.

'It's because of people like you that things never change!' I shouldn’t have blamed the fox; it wasn’t his fault, but I needed to vent my helplessness. 'You think you’re not taking sides, but in fact, you're standing with those who oppress you!'

'Maybe.' 74258 shrugged again, staring into his cup. 'But I don’t see how fighting back would help.'

How dare you. How dare you say that? Are you implying Adam's struggle was meaningless, that his death was meaningless too?

'I think you're lying,' I said. Keep deluding yourself. 'You were humming "The Railroad" that day; I recognize that tune.' I still remember the first time we met, the longing that could be heard in just the melody.

'It just came to mind,' he lied again—turning his gaze to the floor, the tips of his ears drooping. 'You only see what you want to see.'

I wasn't sure if it was the accumulated stress, the deadline for the system reverts drawing closer, or the fact that the plan was stuck, or maybe I’d had too much alcohol—whatever the reason, I could feel the anger overtaking my remaining rationality, a boiling frustration that could explode at any moment.

I grabbed 74258's collar, yanking him so hard that he stumbled forward and almost fell. At the same time, I raised a clenched fist, growling in rage, baring all my teeth.

74258 flinched, trying to back away from me, but I didn’t let go. I pulled harder. He flattened his ears to the sides, tail tucked, and looked at me with those olive eyes, filled with a mix of sadness and fear.

As if he had given up struggling, resigned to the violence that was about to befall him because that's just how the world worked.

Resistance is futile, death is futile—everything is meaningless.

The look in 74258's eyes snapped me back to my senses, stopping me from doing something even worse. For a moment, the only sound was the metallic clattering of the cup I had knocked over, rolling on the ground.

What was I doing?

Shame and anger overwhelmed me as I let go of the fox’s collar and turned, running away as fast as I could.

As if running fast enough could make me escape from all the mistakes I could never undo."