Haa… this is driving me insane.
For modern people, smells they find “unbearable” might include rotting garbage or the stench of someone who hasn’t bathed in weeks.
As an ordinary modern man, Jiwoon felt like he was losing his mind from the disgusting odor surrounding him now—a nauseating symphony of smells.
If he were to describe it, it was like “walking along a decaying riverbank, used by homeless people who hadn’t washed in over a year, while carrying a month-old, rotting trash bag.” That was the odor engulfing him.
Yet Jiwoon couldn’t dare gag, let alone grimace. The “homeless men” walking alongside him were armed.
Bound by rough, bloodstained ropes, Jiwoon was dragged along by soldiers with rough grips.
The road, if it could even be called that, was so muddy his feet sank ankle-deep with each step.
Whenever he glanced around or accidentally made eye contact with the soldiers, their response was a string of curses and swift kicks.
So, Jiwoon kept his head low, discreetly surveying his surroundings.
A slum, maybe?
Haphazard shacks clustered along the dirt path, with people pouring out to gawk at the scene of Jiwoon being dragged away.
Everyone wore rags and had soot-covered faces. Curious children stared at him wide-eyed, while adults looked on with fear and distrust.
Some mothers even slapped their children on the back and covered their eyes when they pointed and whispered about Jiwoon.
What the hell? They’re looking at me like I’m some kind of demon…
As they passed the shacks, a long wooden palisade came into view. It stretched roughly two or three hundred meters and was fortified with jagged logs and boulders embedded in the ground, suggesting considerable effort in its construction.
Watchtowers loomed above, and a crude castle sat atop a hill beyond the palisade.
“Open the gate!”
At least, that’s what Jiwoon assumed the soldier’s shout meant. The language they spoke was nearly identical to English, though the pronunciation was slightly off.
When the gate opened, houses that were slightly more habitable than the slum’s shacks came into view. People with relatively lively expressions lingered outside their homes, watching curiously.
The soldiers escorting Jiwoon laughed and chatted with some of the townsfolk, embracing them or engaging in friendly banter. These people seemed to be the soldiers’ family or friends.
Several lightly armored soldiers disappeared into houses, leaving only those clad in chainmail behind. Among them, a man who seemed to be their leader barked orders, causing the remaining soldiers to cheer before dispersing.
Only two soldiers and the leader stayed behind with Jiwoon.
“Take him to the castle,” the leader commanded.
The soldiers shoved Jiwoon roughly forward. He had no choice but to comply and follow their lead.
Although he glanced around, the soldiers didn’t kick or curse at him like before.
Feeling slightly more at ease, Jiwoon observed his surroundings more closely.
This is definitely the Middle Ages. A really impoverished domain.
Traces of farming were evident but scarce, and a handful of pigs rooted around a hill. The scene resembled a medieval movie, except the soldiers’ equipment and discipline seemed somewhat better.
The lightly armed men who had rushed home earlier were likely a local militia.
Then these must be proper soldiers. But wow, they’re tiny.
Indeed, they were small.
Although their builds were decent, their stature was surprising. At 178 centimeters tall, Jiwoon felt like a giant here. Most people seemed to be around 160 centimeters, and even the leader, the tallest person Jiwoon had seen so far, barely surpassed 170 centimeters.
However, they all looked sturdy.
Despite their chainmail armor, which seemed heavy, they carried it with ease—a testament to their strength.
Thud!
“Ugh!”
Distracted by his thoughts, Jiwoon slowed his pace and received a kick to his rear from a soldier.
Stumbling but catching himself, Jiwoon hastily resumed walking under the soldier’s menacing glare.
The castle, which had seemed modest from afar, loomed larger as they approached.
It couldn’t compare to the grand, ornate castles Jiwoon had seen during his backpacking trip in Europe during college. Yet, despite its age and wear, it was unmistakably a “castle.”
The natural hill serving as its motte was well-suited for defense, and the walls stood six or seven meters high, with wooden palisades encircling the base.
A moat, roughly five meters wide and three meters deep, surrounded the walls. However, most of the water had dried up.
Although the castle’s inner layout remained unseen, its outer defenses adhered to the basics of a medieval fortress. It was a typical rhombus-shaped design for a small castle.
Even the watchtower above the gate looks decent…
As the knight (Jiwoon decided to call the leader a knight) shouted toward the watchtower, a drawbridge began to lower.
Creak, creak—
Jiwoon couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly at the sight.
Thick iron chains suspended the drawbridge, connected to massive logs on the inner walls. Soldiers strained to lower the chains, their sweat glistening.
The chains slid over grooves carved into the logs, functioning as a crude pulley system.
What a primitive design. Absolutely absurd. Human pulleys?
Inside the castle, rows of soldiers stood at attention.
These soldiers, unlike those outside, had more uniform gear and larger builds. Their demeanor also differed—they exuded discipline.
Being marched through their midst wasn’t a pleasant experience.
To Jiwoon, these soldiers felt like seasoned veterans compared to the ragtag group outside.
The tense, focused stares of the soldiers as he passed began to unnerve him.
He had momentarily forgotten the danger he was in, preoccupied with his curiosity about this unfamiliar, medieval world.
But the stark reality of his predicament hit him once again.
This was a perilous time and place, likely medieval Europe.
A time when famine was rampant, and a misstep could get you killed with no one to complain to.
And Jiwoon was an outsider—a suspicious, foreign stranger.
Such people rarely received kindness.
A chill ran down his spine.
The amusement he felt earlier watching the drawbridge descend and the curiosity sparked by the castle’s architecture vanished.
Now, only one thought consumed Jiwoon’s mind:
I might actually die here…
The Soldiers Dragged Jiwoon to a Grand Hall Deep Inside the Inner Castle.
“Ugh!”
Jiwoon was roughly thrown to the ground.
Kneeling, he waited for a moment before noticing several figures approaching from within the hall.
Nobles?
There were three men and one woman.
The man in the center stood at about 165 centimeters, with light blond hair and a well-trimmed beard. His attire was immaculate, and his knee-length leather boots were clearly of high quality. Around his neck hung a necklace adorned with a red gemstone, complementing the colors of his clothing. Everything about his appearance screamed that he held an important position in this place.
To his left stood a much larger man, taller and broader than the knight who had brought Jiwoon here. Though his attire was similar to the man in the center, his presence was far more intimidating, emphasized by the sword at his left hip and the steel armor protecting his forearms and knees. His sharp eyes, blunt nose, and thick, chapped lips gave the impression of a dangerous and brutal knight—a figure straight out of medieval nightmares.
Beside this imposing knight was another man dressed similarly but of a different demeanor. He was lean, standing around 170 centimeters tall, with narrow eyes, a sharp nose, and a firm, tightly set mouth. His carefully groomed beard added to his intellectual, almost scholarly appearance. If not for the sword at his side, one might have mistaken him for a philosopher or a strategist.
Finally, the figure on the far right was a surprising contrast—a young girl.
With short blond hair cascading over her shoulders, she had a delicate face with clear and defined features. Her striking green eyes seemed to glimmer faintly, even in the dimly lit hall. She wore loose-fitting clothes paired with pants and boots, and though she was barely 160 centimeters tall, her appearance was strikingly cute and elegant.
Yet, what stood out the most was that she, too, carried a sword.
Thud!
“Ugh!”
A hard shove to his back made Jiwoon stumble forward, his body bending awkwardly.
“Show respect! ×××××× ×××× ××××××××! I’ll kill you!”
“××××××× ××××××××××××. Sir Einse.”
Among the harsh words, Jiwoon could discern only fragments: “Show respect,” “kill,” and “Sir.”
He frowned as he slowly raised his head.
“Who are you?”
The man in the center
asked Jiwoon in a firm voice.
“Uh…”
Jiwoon stammered, unsure of what to say.
Before he could gather his thoughts, a soldier’s boot struck him sharply.
“I told you to show respect!”
“Wait.”
The man in the center raised a hand, halting the soldier. The knight immediately bowed respectfully and stepped back, glaring daggers at Jiwoon before retreating.
“I heard my men found you in the Cromwell Forest. Who are you, and why were you wandering there?”
Jiwoon, his face tense with anxiety, struggled to respond.
“I… I’m not suspicious. I’m not a bad person. I just got lost in the forest.”
His voice wavered, and his English was slightly slurred—unfamiliarity with the language adding to his nervousness.
The one small relief was that the man’s English, while accented and slightly archaic, was slow and deliberate, making it easier to understand than the rapid-fire, slang-filled modern English Jiun was used to.
“Hmm. You speak strangely, but you can talk,” the man remarked, his tone neutral. “The Cromwell Forest is uninhabitable. You will need to prove your story.”
Jiwoon’s throat felt dry as tension gripped him.
Where do I even start? How can I explain this?
No words came to him as his mind raced. Even if he did speak, would they believe him?
Looking at their stern expressions and the atmosphere in the hall, Jiwoon doubted they would react like characters in novels or movies, exclaiming, “Wow! You’re from another world? Welcome!”
This was a crisis.
Survival was far from guaranteed.
(To be continued…)
