Chapter 3

The old woman clutched the box tightly.

Her body was terribly frail, yet in that moment she seemed to summon some tremendous strength.

Somehow, Melvin and Shelagh could not wrench the box from her hands.

But the old woman was shoved and staggered.

Melvin turned toward me, beside himself, and shouted at the top of his voice.

"Cara, are you blind?! Get over here and help, now!"

I crossed my arms and coldly watched Melvin, whose face was flushed red, then spoke in a level voice.

"Melvin, don't take this too far. That's someone's son lying in there..."

"Bullshit!"

Melvin cut me off sharply.

"Cara, what's that supposed to mean?! So you're siding with outsiders too?! What son! I say it's just a junky old box! She's hogging the seat on purpose!"

"I'm telling you, if you won't help, fine, but don't make trouble for me!"

Melvin jabbed his finger at me, the fury in his eyes flaring hotter.

"Shelagh has a herniated disc. If she stands too long and something happens, are you going to answer for it?!"

I curled my lips into a faint, cold smile.

I took my earphones out of my bag, put them in my ears, and turned my back.

But Melvin's voice had woken the passengers nearby.

Voices urging her to relent rose from all sides.

"Ma'am, just let it go. Young people have it hard these days; work wears them out!"

"One box taking up a whole berth really doesn't sit right, ma'am, don't be stubborn about it."

"We're all this old now, what can't we let go of? Be a little more generous..."

Hearing everyone around take their side,

Melvin and Shelagh grew even more brazen.

They stepped forward again at once,

meaning to snatch the box out of the old woman's arms.

The old woman held the box tightly,

and looking at the crowd pressing in around her, the tears finally spilled down beyond her control.

With great tenderness, she untied the ceremonial scarf.

As the scarf slowly slid away,

a plain wooden box appeared before everyone's eyes.

In the very center of the box was a black-and-white photograph.

The man in the photo had a deeply lined face, but he smiled openly.

"The one sleeping in here really is my son..."

the old woman said, her voice choked.

"He was only thirty-two when he passed. He was saving two coworkers trapped in a cave-in. The coworkers lived, but he never opened his eyes again..."

"He always said he wanted to ride this train once, to come home and see his old mother. Now I'm taking him back. I bought him a sleeper berth, so he could lie down and rest a while..."

As the old woman forced out the words one by one,

the whole big carriage fell into a deathly silence.

The very onlookers who had just been urging her to give in reddened at the eyes.

Anyone with even a little heart

could understand this mother's aching devotion,

could grasp the bitterness and hardship behind it.

Before my eyes rose the scene from my last life: the locals' reverence for this fallen hero, and their boundless respect for this old woman.

How I wanted to step forward and help her,

but the wretched memories of my last life forced the impulse back down.

I slowly turned, looking at the frail old woman,

and in the very instant my gaze came around,

a scoffing laugh broke through the carriage that had just fallen silent.

Shelagh pointed at the box in the old woman's arms, her laughter growing louder and louder.

"Make it up! Keep making it up!"

"Hero, my foot. He's dead and still hogging a seat! No class at all!"

Seeing this, Melvin immediately stepped up to back her.

"Old woman, quit putting on a show for me! Let me tell you, this seat's going to my friend today, that's final!"

With that, Melvin lunged forward,

and while the old woman was wiping her tears, he snatched the urn out of her arms and thrust it high above his head.

"Let's see just what kind of treasure is inside!"