“Dammit! Hell!”
Jiwoon cursed under his breath as he trudged forward. He could tolerate the stinking, muddy ground that swallowed his boots with every step. After all, he wasn’t wearing sneakers or dress shoes. His reserve army uniform included decent combat boots—though a bit stiff from lack of wear, they were still reliable.
The constant buzzing of flies or mosquitoes near his ears, sticking to his sweat-soaked neck and face, was also manageable. It was spring, after all—a season of life. In a forest like this, the absence of such creatures would be stranger.
“Damn this forest! Is this even part of Gyeonggi Province, South Korea?”
It was the forest itself that irritated Jiwoon the most. He had never seen such a flat, featureless expanse of trees. After walking for an hour, there was no sign of valleys or ridges—terrain he’d expect, even from his time serving in the rugged DMZ of Gangwon Province.
“This is weird. Really weird.”
Sweat dripping and swatting at insects, Jiwoon’s mind drifted to a memory of his school days, backpacking in Europe. He once saw forests like this while traveling by train: vast, dark green expanses stretching to the horizon. A local passenger sitting nearby had warned him that once you ventured inside such a forest, you could lose your way and never emerge.
He remembered hearing about the ancient forests of England and southern Europe, which, before World War II, spanned dozens of kilometers. Even viewed from an airplane, their depths were impenetrable. Inside, the trees blocked most sunlight, leaving the forest dim even at midday. Swamps scattered throughout added to the danger, while the climate made the air humid and windless.
Such forests, with their tall, dense trees, seemed picturesque at first glance. But once inside, those who ventured in would quickly find fear and unease replacing admiration.
“This is just too strange…” Jiwoon muttered.
It was a ridiculous thought, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that this forest was one of those primeval places.
“Damn it. Can’t I find a place to rest? Ah, that looks decent.”
Spotting a tree root resembling a massive tunnel, Jiwoon heaved a sigh and plopped down.
“Phew. Let’s see…”
He pulled off his bag and checked its contents. Inside were two clean sets of underwear, a black shirt, and three pairs of socks, along with toiletries from a convenience store and two clean towels. He was glad he’d taken the time to wash and dry his clothes earlier—something he wouldn’t normally bother with but had felt compelled to do while stuck in this unfamiliar place.
There were also two books: one about medieval European political economy and history for his next novel, and a collection of poems by modern English and American poets, including his favorite, Edgar Allan Poe. Jiwoon chuckled at the thought of what kind of poem Poe might write about this situation.
Continuing his inventory, he found a can of sports drink, four cans of coffee, and two small bottles of soju he’d picked up on a whim but hadn’t opened. He also had plenty of cigarettes—four cartons and four packs, plus three lighters he’d found in his pockets. Finally, there were two cup noodles left from rations he’d accidentally kept after a night exercise.
“Should’ve grabbed some from the other platoon,” he muttered, though the thought was pointless. Jiwoon prided himself on not stooping to take leftovers home, even in tough times. The cup noodles he did have were there only because he’d thrown them into his bag without thinking.
“Ha! Gotta thank Changhwan for this,” Jiwoon said with a smirk, pulling out two critical items from the bag: a portable flashlight and a Swiss Army knife.
The flashlight, gifted by his freeloading friend Changhwan, could run on batteries or be hand-cranked. In this forest, if nightfall caught him off guard, it could become his most valuable tool. The Swiss Army knife, which Jiwoon usually carried as a keychain, was bound to prove indispensable.
“Thanks, buddy,” Jiwoon muttered, deciding to treat Changhwan to some grilled pork belly when he got back.
He popped open a can of coffee and lit a cigarette. Even in this unsettling forest, the combination gave him a moment of solace. After exhaling a deep puff of smoke, Jiwoon pulled out his phone, only to see the same frustrating “No Signal” message. Clicking his tongue, he powered it off to conserve the battery.
Taking out the Swiss Army knife, he checked the small compass attached to it. It seemed functional. He decided to head southwest, reasoning that the reserve base was in that direction—and so was Seoul.
“Alright. Let’s keep moving…” Jiwoon muttered with a hint of unease. Though he refused to acknowledge the thought fully, part of him feared that this might not be South Korea at all.
Hours later, at 5:30 PM, Jiwoon’s eyes widened in disbelief and despair. After four hours of trudging southwest, he had finally reached a break in the forest. Bright sunlight spilled through, signaling an end to the endless trees.
Overcome with relief, Jiwoon ran toward the clearing. But as he neared it, an inexplicable sense of dread began to creep over him. The sunlight grew brighter, but it contrasted with an unnatural darkness welling up inside his mind.
Pushing down his unease, Jiwoon pressed on—until he saw it.
Beyond a steep slope lay another expanse of dense, dark forest stretching as far as the eye could see. The vibrant blue sky above only made the sea of dark green treetops below seem more ominous.
Jiwoon sank to the ground, his legs giving out beneath him.
“Where… where the hell am I?”
The forest offered no answers, only an eerie, unfamiliar birdcall that echoed through the oppressive silence.
It seemed almost impossible to find dry twigs and grass to start a fire in this perpetually damp environment. However, by sheer luck, the steep slope of the cliffside allowed sunlight to reach farther down, enabling Jiwoon to gather some fairly flammable branches beneath it.
The ground, soaked enough that his combat boots sank in with each step, made it difficult to find an open space suitable for a fire or even for resting. After another ten minutes of searching, Jiwoon finally found a spot he could consider satisfactory.
It was a flat patch of land near a large boulder, roughly the size of a small car. Thanks to the boulder being deeply embedded in the earth, even the strange, twisted trees that dominated the forest couldn’t take root there.
“The soil’s good too. Alright, this will do,” he murmured.
The ground here wasn’t sticky with moisture but instead felt crumbly and dry, as if long-eroded particles from the boulder had settled around it. Jiwoon used the heel of his boot to clear an area and then dug a small pit with scattered rocks he found nearby.
He placed dry vines and grass at the bottom of the pit, layered branches over them, and struck his lighter. Contrary to his fears, the fire caught quite well.
“It’s burning! Ha, it’s burning!” Jiwoon laughed out loud, his face lighting up with relief.
It had been a struggle. As he dug the pit with rocks, he couldn’t help but yearn for the modern collapsible military shovel he had used during his reserve army training. With that, he could have fashioned a proper shelter.
He sighed wistfully, then shook his head. What kind of lunatic would smuggle a military shovel out of reserve training?
But he couldn’t help amending his thought almost immediately.
“If it were Changhwan, that guy definitely would’ve snuck one out,” he muttered, chuckling.
He pictured his roommate Changhwan, with whom he often clashed despite their closeness. The memory brought a faint smile to his lips, but it was short-lived. The thought that he might never see his best friend again sent a heavy pang through his chest.
“No, that won’t happen,” Jiwoon reassured himself. But another thought intruded. Where am I, really?
He tried to dismiss it, but deep down, he couldn’t believe he was still in a forest somewhere in Gyeonggi Province, Korea. This wasn’t a new suspicion; it had been forming since about 30 minutes into his walk. But now, after hours of exploration, it felt almost certain.
For one, there were no signs of forest thinning or tree clearing. In a forest of this size, managed thinning would be standard practice to preserve the ecosystem and promote healthy growth. Yet here, there was nothing—a true primeval forest untouched by human hands.
Moreover, Jiwoon hadn’t seen a single pine tree, not even one. Even in the smallest of Korean forests, pine trees were almost ubiquitous. Yet, after trekking through this forest for over five hours, he hadn’t encountered a single one.
The undeniable truth was that this massive, unbroken wilderness—free of pathways, pine trees, or any trace of humanity—didn’t resemble anything that could exist in Gyeonggi Province.
Still, Jiwoon couldn’t completely convince himself he was no longer in Korea. The reason was simple: If not Korea, then where? How does this make any sense?
None of it did.
These kinds of events only happened in the fantasy novels Jiwoon wrote. Such things were impossible in the real world, let alone in 21st-century Korea. Yet here he was, experiencing what felt like the plot of one of his own stories.
“Haah…” Jiwoon sighed as he lit a cigarette and took a long drag.
The smoke calmed him, allowing him to methodically retrace his thoughts.
One thing is clear: this isn’t anywhere near Gyeonggi Province. That has to be the starting point.
Theories about being in another dimension or in Earth’s distant past were less critical. What mattered was this: he should have drowned in a river, but instead, he had woken up in a forest—a forest so alien in its natural environment that it couldn’t possibly be in Korea.
Jiwoon decided it was time to face the uncomfortable truth head-on.
“This isn’t Gyeonggi Province… or even Korea. Not a chance.”
This forest didn’t match anything he’d ever seen or heard of in Korea. And he, who should have been either dead or gravely injured, was somehow alive and unharmed.
He had enough material to formulate his grand assumption. The pressing question now was, What next?
“Hmm…” Jiwoon hesitated. A growing unease weighed on him as he forced himself to confront the worst-case scenario.
Still, he knew he needed to stay calm. His next actions and decisions depended on clearly defining a guiding premise—and once that premise was set, he needed to stick to it unwaveringly.
Finally, Jiwoon exhaled deeply and voiced the thought aloud, as if speaking it would give him courage.
“Did I… end up in some unknown world?”
The weight of those words settled heavily on his chest, like a stone pressing down on his heart.
(To be continued)
Leave a Reply