Jiwoon, confined in the castle’s dungeon, surveyed his surroundings with uneasy eyes. The three-unit space, constructed of yellowish stone walls, was damp and filthy. One corner was piled with waste, and mold had taken hold in many places due to the humidity. For Jiwoon, who had tried his best to maintain hygiene even while wandering in the forest, this was utterly revolting.
What’s worse, Jiwoon was…
“…Cold.”
…barely clothed.
Stripped down to nothing but his underwear, he had been unceremoniously thrown into the cell. Though they had tossed him a tattered blanket, it was infested with fleas and lice, making it worse than useless.
Slumping into the cleanest-looking spot he could find, Jiwoon anxiously mulled over his situation. Judging by the fact that they’d confiscated all his belongings and clothes, it seemed clear that they wouldn’t kill him immediately. Moreover, thanks to his halting English, he’d managed to establish some basic communication.
If I’d known this would happen, I would’ve studied English more thoroughly…
He chewed on his fingernails, regretting his earlier lack of effort. But in truth, Jiwoon’s English was better than average for a typical Korean. As a writer with little reason to go abroad apart from the occasional trip, he’d had no real need to master the language fluently.
Even so, his relatively good grasp of English had been bolstered by several overseas vacations and friendships with foreign students in his neighborhood near Hongdae. While his nerves had gotten the better of him earlier, he was confident he could mount a defense in calmer circumstances.
Growl!
Even in such dire circumstances, his body’s cries for food persisted. Facing the possibility of death tomorrow didn’t make the cold or hunger any easier to endure.
Jiwoon’s thoughts drifted to his widowed mother, now living with his two married younger sisters in Australia. Surely, she would be deeply worried.
“Mother…”
A sigh escaped him. Though they only saw each other once or twice a year due to the distance, he could imagine how devastating his disappearance would be for her.
Still, Jiwoon was an adult. Cold, hungry, and pitiful as his situation was, he wasn’t about to scream for food, cry over his family, or beg for his life like some thoughtless fool.
After all, he’d been living independently for nearly a decade since his family had moved overseas.
“I can do this. Han Jiwoon, you can handle this.”
Clenching his teeth, he steeled himself. Making a scene wouldn’t change his situation—it might even provoke them into killing him on the spot. The best course of action was to remain calm and avoid drawing attention.
Instead of recklessly causing trouble, he needed to analyze the situation and think of suitable countermeasures for what might come next.
They’ve taken all my belongings… Someone will likely come to investigate, either a noble or one of the knights.
In a setting that was clearly medieval, Jiwoon’s possessions would be utterly alien to them. Wandering suspiciously and carrying unknown artifacts would naturally lead to his detainment.
They would undoubtedly examine his belongings. It was only logical that their curiosity would drive them to seek him out again.
If this were medieval Europe, they might have deemed his belongings demonic and burned him at the stake without a second thought. But here? At least they’d left him alive, even providing him with underwear.
And…
“You must prove your words.”
The nobleman—presumably the highest-ranking figure in this castle—had displayed a degree of rationality in his speech.
So, what’s my move? Should I tell the truth?
Telling the truth:
- “I was returning home after a reservist training session in Korea when I had an accident. When I came to, I found myself in that forest. I think I might’ve ended up in another world.”
The idea was laughable.
And then what?
Even if they believed him, what would that achieve? Being from another world held no value here.
In the 21st century, he might’ve been studied or become a media sensation, but in this place?
Even if they believe me, I’d still be useless.
That was the crux of the issue. Jiwoon had no utility in this world. At most, they might keep him alive to learn the uses of his belongings, but after that?
An expendable mouth to feed…
The thought was bleak. Jiwoon wasn’t particularly athletic, skilled, or knowledgeable. He was just an average citizen of 21st-century Korea.
There must be something…
He did have a few unique traits: the ability to go without water for extended periods (though not quite like a camel) and remarkable endurance for walking (though not as much as a Jeju pony).
…
The more he thought about it, the more depressing it became. But he had to find a way. Even dung could be medicinal; surely, he was worth more than that.
“Get up!”
A sudden shout jolted Jiwoon awake. It seemed he’d dozed off at dawn after racking his brain for an escape plan all night.
Scrambling to his feet, he looked at the source of the voice. It was the knight from yesterday—Einse—with two soldiers in tow.
Thud!
Einse tossed something onto the ground. Jiwoon’s confiscated uniform and combat boots.
“Hurry up and get dressed. My lord, Baron Frederick, wishes to see you.”
My lord? Baron?
Jiwoon was a fantasy novelist. If he didn’t know that “Baron” referred to the lowest rank of the five-tier noble hierarchy (Duke, Marquis, Count, Viscount, Baron), he’d have no business calling himself a writer.
A knight addressed as “Sir” in a castle that mimicked medieval Europe, referring to his lord as “Baron”?
This confirmed everything.
This world closely mirrored medieval Europe in culture and society, following the same noble hierarchy.
In that case…
One of the plans Jiwoon had painstakingly devised through the night might just work. Slowly, he wore his uniform.
In the heart of the inner fortress where Jiwoon was once again dragged, dozens of soldiers and the individuals he had seen yesterday were gathered.
“We shall begin the trial of the fiefdom! You, foreigner! Can you prove your identity?”
The baron’s voice, more authoritative than yesterday, caused Jiwoon’s lips to go dry without him realizing it. He moistened them slightly before slowly opening his mouth.
“Yes, Baron.”
Jiwoon’s reply made Baron Frederick’s expression shift subtly.
“Oh? Do you know what the title ‘Baron’ signifies?”
“Yes, there is a similar rank in my country, Baron.”
“A job (sag-il)?”
The baron smirked at Jiwoon’s awkward phrasing, though even that slight smile was enough to make cold sweat trickle down Jiwoon’s back.
“Ah, I misspoke. It is a similar ‘rank (class).’”
“I see. So your country has a rank akin to a baron?”
“Yes, Baron.”
“Good. Let’s leave that for now. Where is your proof of identity?”
The atmosphere had grown noticeably more relaxed. Jiwoon took a deep breath before speaking.
“I am a foreigner, hailing from a land very far from here. My country is called ‘Korea.’ However, it is so far away that you’ve likely never heard of it.”
Speaking in a clear voice, Jiwoon continued slowly.
“I… I got lost in a mysterious forest. My companions, exhausted from a long voyage, either succumbed to illness or were killed by the monsters in the forest. Yes, they were all killed. And I wandered the forest for a long time, eventually encountering orcs. I fled from the orcs and then met the knights and soldiers who brought me here.”
When Jiwoon finished, the baron nodded. His manner of speaking was slightly lacking and awkward, but given that he was a foreigner, it wasn’t terrible.
“Hm! I understand your story. Cromwell Forest is vast enough that even I, as the lord of this land, cannot know its farthest reaches.
Moreover, there are many creatures like orcs, monsters beyond the domain of ‘A Holy One, Reyes.’ So, you claim to have come from beyond it?”
A Holy One? Reyes? Jiwoon felt he’d stumbled upon an important clue but betrayed no hint of it as he replied.
“Yes. My companions and I spent three months at sea before arriving here, and then two months walking to reach the forest.”
Of course, this was a lie. Jiwoon had hastily made it up based on a distant view of a mountain range he had glimpsed just before being captured. Considering the baron’s own words, it was likely no one here had ventured close to that area.
“Indeed. At the edge of Cromwell Forest lies the Dragon’s Range, which is said to lead to a great sea. But no one among us has traversed the forest or reached the range to confirm it.”
As the baron mentioned Cromwell Forest and the Dragon’s Range, his expression momentarily hardened. However, he soon gestured to his daughter, who stood beside him.
Roselia nodded and retrieved something, holding it out. The sight made Jiwoon flinch.
“A Swiss Army knife!”
“We found this among your belongings. What is it?”
Suppressing the pounding in his chest, Jiwoon replied with the explanation he had prepared the night before.
“It is a gift from my country. Such items are not given to just anyone. All of my belongings are unique and special, Baron.”
“Is that so? It does appear extraordinary. But what does this symbol mean? Is it also ‘the mark of a Holy One’ in your land?”
As the baron finished speaking, Jiwoon’s heart raced, and his mind whirred into action.
A Holy One again? And his mark? The cross on the Swiss Army knife was both the emblem of Switzerland and a symbol of a major religion back on Earth. But here, it was being referred to as the mark of a Holy One?
Was this an opportunity or a trap? Jiwoon’s mind worked like a puzzle, quickly piecing things together.
“That’s correct. It is the sacred mark of our god.”
Would it work? It was a gamble, but Jiwoon believed in his hand. From everything he had observed, this world mirrored medieval Europe, where divine authority held immense power. Lying about such matters in this era would be tantamount to self-destruction.
“We do not lightly speak the name of the Holy One. Thus, we call him ‘Hananim.’ The sacred one we revere is our Hananim.”
Forgive me, God. I might start believing in you after this.
{ Hananim is the Korean word for the Holy One }
“Ho…”
The change in the crowd’s expressions suggested that Jiwoon’s words were having the desired effect. On the far left, a man who appeared to be a priest even smiled warmly at him. The priest whispered something to the baron, who nodded repeatedly.
Thank goodness. What a relief!
Jiwoon’s tense face began to relax, but he quickly tensed again when the baron spoke in his stern voice.
“I see. Based on what you’ve said, I acknowledge that you are a foreigner blessed by the Holy One. None in this estate may deny this truth.”
Victory! Absolute victory!
But the baron wasn’t finished.
“However!”
The word froze Jiwoon’s relief in its tracks.
“There remain two crucial questions. What is your occupation and rank to possess such a valuable item? And why did you leave your homeland?”
The decisive moment had arrived. The question that would determine whether Jiwoon’s fate here was heaven or hell.
Gathering his thoughts, Jiwoon responded to the second question first.
“I left my country to learn about the culture of other lands and to spread the teachings of Hananim.”
“Hm…”
Both the baron and the priest nodded, signaling for him to continue. Jiwoon felt the sharp tension in his body as he placed deliberate emphasis on two key words.
“And my occupation is that of a politician. In my country, only those ranked as a ‘Baronet’ or higher may engage in politics.”
“A politician? A Baronet? Then you are…”
The peak of tension had arrived. Jiwoon knew this was his moment to seal his claim. With a voice firm but not servile, he declared:
“Yes, Baron. I am a nobleman.”
“……!”
Every gaze locked on Jiwoon, their eyes wide with astonishment. Thus ended the first act of the elaborate play he had staged for his survival.
In one stroke, the young, reclusive fantasy novelist—whose life was little different from that of a shut-in—had transformed into a devout noble politician embarking on a journey to spread the word of God.
(To be continued…)
