PREVIEW
...
The driver of this inner world was a middle-aged man in his forties with a finger-long scar at the corner of his eye.
He turned his head, widened his eyes, and looked at the scene inside the cold station outside the window.
Rustling spiders, fast-moving black figures, and workers and security guards fell to the ground.
His neck was cut open, and fresh blood splattered everywhere.
The middle-aged driver immediately locked the car and started the train.
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