Chen caught his breath, a single, decisive thought flashing through his mind.
The illusion of the exquisite, silver-grey dress shimmered and dissolved.
In its place, the familiar, slightly loose-fitting casual wear from the Space Station reappeared on his frame.
The rich brown hair of his previous form darkened, cascading back to its familiar black over his shoulders.
The petite, delicate body stretched and elongated, bones and sinew reconfiguring in a blink until he stood once more in his original form: a black-haired young man.
He tugged at the now slightly wrinkled hem of his clothes and finally let out a long, slow sigh of relief.
Being in his own body was just so much more comfortable.
Qiong watched the instantaneous transformation, her grip tightening almost imperceptibly on the baseball bat she held.
She didn’t ask any questions, however, simply resuming her quiet vigil by his side.
A series of light, quick footsteps echoed from down the corridor.
A moment later, March 7th’s figure rounded the corner.
His face was alight with excitement as he ran, waving vigorously at the two of them.
“Chen!
Qiong!
I finally found you!”
He clattered to a halt before them, slightly out of breath.
His gaze flicked from Chen’s now-familiar black-haired form to the weapon cradled in Qiong’s arms, his eagerness practically bubbling over.
“So?
So?
Is Herta’s testing finally done?
He didn’t detain you for any weird experiments, did he?”
Chen offered a wry smile, tugging at his shirt.
“Something like that.
We finally managed to get away.”
“Yay!” March 7th clapped his hands together with a triumphant cheer.
“Let’s go, then!
Let’s go!” he urged, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“Uncle Himeko and Ms.
Welt are both waiting on the Astral Express.
Dan Heng has been nagging us for ages.
We’re just waiting for you two!”
Hearing this, Chen’s eyes instantly lit up, and he fell into step behind them without a second’s hesitation.
“Finally!
We can get going!”
He walked briskly alongside March 7th and Qiong, but his mind was already racing ahead, secretly pondering a crucial question.
‘I wonder if Pom-Pom on the Astral Express has been gender-swapped?
Come to think of it…
was Pom-Pom even male or female in the original game?’
With such thoughts fueling his anticipation, Chen found himself growing more and more eager to finally meet the famous Conductor.
The trio quickly handled the final stretch of the corridor, and the view suddenly opened up before them.
There, docked quietly at its dedicated berth, was the Astral Express.
March 7th charged in first, his clear, bright voice echoing through the carriage.
“Pom-Pom!
We’re back!
And we brought new friends!”
Chen followed closely behind.
The moment he stepped through the door, his gaze swept eagerly around the parlor car.
Would Pom-Pom be wearing a little pink bow?
Perhaps a small, frilly apron with lace trim?
He’d even considered whether its voice might have become higher and more delicate.
However, the instant his eyes landed on the figure in the center of the car, all those carefully constructed mental images shattered.
The familiar appearance.
The familiar tone.
The familiar red scarf.
It was exactly the same Pom-Pom from the game, without a single, solitary trace of being gender-swapped.
The corners of Chen’s mouth, which had been raised in a hopeful smirk, quietly drooped.
An inexplicable pang of disappointment welled up in his chest.
He sighed internally, muttering to himself, ‘So, in this world where literally everyone is gender-swapped, Pom-Pom is the one that slipped through the cracks?
I was really hoping to see a different version.
Well, there goes one less source of amusement.’
“Pom-Pom, this is Chen and Qiong!” March 7th had already bounded over to the Conductor’s side and was making introductions, completely oblivious to Chen’s minor emotional crisis.
Pom-Pom turned its head, its large eyes looking at Chen and then Qiong.
“I know, I know!
Welt already told me!” its voice chirped.
“Welcome to the Astral Express, you two new passengers, Pom!”
Pom-Pom’s voice pulled Chen back from his thoughts.
“I am the Conductor, Pom-Pom!
For the journey ahead, I look forward to your guidance, Pom!”
Looking at Pom-Pom’s utterly unchanged appearance, Chen felt a strange mix of emotions.
While the disappointment lingered, a sense of ease born from familiarity began to settle in.
“What are you spacing out for?” March 7th gently nudged Chen with his elbow, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
“Are you mesmerized by Pom-Pom?”
He leaned in closer.
“Let me tell you, although Pom-Pom looks…
well, special, it’s our most reliable Conductor!
Cooking, cleaning, navigation, maintenance…
it can do everything!”
“Ahem, no,” Chen snapped back to reality, quickly denying it as he scrambled for an excuse.
“I was just thinking…
Conductor Pom-Pom, has it always been…
like this?”
“Of course!” March 7th nodded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Pom-Pom has been like this ever since I boarded the Express.
Never changed a bit.”
While Chen and March 7th were talking, Qiong, still holding her baseball bat, had quietly drifted over to Pom-Pom’s side.
Those eyes of hers, which always held a hint of distant confusion, now shone with pure, unadulterated curiosity.
She seemed completely captivated by the Conductor’s fluffy appearance.
Then, before anyone could react, she reached out her hand.
With startling directness, she touched the top of Pom-Pom’s head.
Pom-Pom: “!!!”
The Conductor, who had been standing tall and proud while playing its role, suddenly went rigid.
“Y-you, you you you…
“Rude!
So rude, Pom!
How can you just casually touch the Conductor’s head, Pom!”
It tried its best to put on a serious expression, but the effect was somewhat ruined.
March 7th let out a strangled “pfft” and quickly covered his mouth, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.
Chen was also taken aback for a moment, then found he couldn’t stop the corners of his own mouth from curling into a grin.
Qiong’s curiosity was so direct it bordered on reckless, but in this situation, it was actually…
kind of cute.
Besides, Pom-Pom’s reaction seemed less like genuine anger and more like flustered shyness.
Qiong seemed to have completely missed Pom-Pom’s signals of protest.
She gave its head a couple of gentle strokes, apparently satisfied with the texture.
Then, her fingers traced the contour of Pom-Pom’s cheek and gently poked its soft, fluffy face.
“Soft,” she stated, a simple, fact-based assessment.
Her tone carried a hint of delight, like someone discovering a new and pleasant sensation.
Pom-Pom: “Woo…”
“St-stop it, Pom!
New passenger!
Mind your manners, Pom!”
At this moment, Dan Heng, who was sitting not far away, also noticed the commotion.
She paused in the middle of polishing her spear, and upon seeing Qiong “harassing” the Conductor, felt a strange itch to do the same.
Even Uncle Himeko and Ms.
Welt, who had been discussing something in low voices, looked over.
A knowing smile spread across Himeko’s face as he shook his head, a gesture that seemed to say, ‘Ah, young people and their energy.’
“Qiong,” Chen said, holding back a laugh.
He figured if she kept this up, Pom-Pom might actually start steaming from the top of its head.
“The Conductor seems…
not very used to this.”
Hearing his voice, Qiong’s fingers stilled, but she didn’t immediately withdraw her hand.
She looked at Pom-Pom, seemed to think for a moment, and then asked with genuine seriousness, “…Don’t like it?”
Pom-Pom: “…”
It opened its mouth, fully intending to say sternly, “Of course I don’t like it, Pom!” But as it looked into Qiong’s eyes—so pure they seemed to hold no impurities, only honest curiosity—the harsh words somehow got stuck in its throat.
Finally, it just shook its head vigorously, dislodging Qiong’s hand.
It took a small hop backward, puffing out its chest and trying its hardest to put on a stern face.
“A-anyway!
The welcome ceremony is over, Pom!
No more casually touching the Conductor, Pom!”
Only then did Qiong withdraw her hand completely.
Her face showed no particular expression as she looked down at her fingers, as if still savoring the sensation.
She then turned, held her baseball bat close, and obediently walked over to an empty sofa to sit down.
March 7th, grinning from ear to ear, pulled Chen to find seats as well, whispering to him with a conspiratorial wink, “See?
Pom-Pom is actually really easy to get along with!
Just a bit thin-skinned!
Next time we…”
“Ahem.”
Uncle Himeko’s timely throat-clearing cut through the air, interrupting what was sure to be a dangerous proposal from March 7th.
[Elysian’s Note:
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