Chapter 6
Hanyaseong finished packing his gear and set it down near where the portal appeared. The portal's glow showed up around 7 p.m., so he still had plenty of time. From checking every day, he'd confirmed it opened right as the sun dipped below the horizon. It stayed for about twenty minutes each time before vanishing.
As time passed, he grabbed a quick lunch and wandered the area. By now, he knew the terrain like the back of his hand. He pulled a peanut-like fruit from his pocket, popped it in his mouth, and crunched away. It had a tangy bite—something small animals loved. He'd tried it once out of curiosity and found it surprisingly good, so he kept some on hand for snacks.
Strolling around like that, time flew until the sun began to set. It was time to head home. Hanyaseong returned to his gear and waited for the portal. Small animals gathered nearby, watching him as if seeing him off.
Soon, a brilliant light flared, and the portal opened. Hanyaseong hoisted his pack and turned back to the animals one last time.
"I'll come back again sometime."
But they might not be there by then. Time flowed so much faster here. A week at home meant years here. No telling if these little guys would still be around. Still, he hoped they would be as he leaped into the portal with his load.
Back home, he glanced at the living room clock—barely an hour had passed. The time difference was utterly ridiculous. He'd spent a full week there, and only a little over an hour had ticked by here...
Shaking his head in disbelief, Hanyaseong headed to the bathroom for a bath.
That night, he slept soundly. The next afternoon, after finishing his lectures, he roamed the neighborhood looking for a mixed martial arts dojo. But all he found were taekwondo and judo places—no MMA or special forces-style gyms.
Pondering his options, he crossed to a bookstore nearby. Better to grab some manuals and train in that world. Training here would take too long, but over there, he'd learn 144 times faster.
He bought books on MMA, special combat arts, and the like, then left. No knife manuals in stock, so he'd order online. At home, he fired up the computer and searched knife fighting techniques. Amid the various sword arts and blade methods, one caught his eye: close-quarters knife work from foreign special forces. It came with detailed photos and explanations. He printed and bound them into a thick stack.
Next, he shopped for a hunting knife online. From the multitude, he picked a hefty one suited for jungles or forests and placed the order.
Then he ate a hearty dinner, packed food and supplies, and dove back into the portal.
Just a day away, and the season had shifted to spring. He entered the root-space hollow as before, starting with a cleanup. A day here was about 140 days there, so dust had piled up thick. After thirty minutes, it was spotless. He organized his belongings, hung a flashlight from the ceiling, and cracked open the MMA manual.
He figured a month here would shake off beginner status. He planned to venture deep into the forest after two months home-time—decades here by then, enough to wrap up basic training.
For that day, Hanyaseong dove into the manuals, studying intently.
A month passed in home-time. College was on the cusp of summer break. Hanyaseong shuttled between school, home, and that world, training relentlessly. A month here meant over a year there already. He'd mastered MMA, special combat arts, boxing, and knife work with the hunting blade.
His body had transformed without him fully realizing. Lean and balanced, solid muscle everywhere, baby fat gone from his face. Close friends would've noticed, but his were just casual acquaintances—no one clocked the full change. Except one: Jang Euna, president of the Mystery Club, whom he bumped into outside the department building. She did a double-take.
"What kind of workouts have you been doing?"
"Yeah, just... a bit."
"You don't look like a kid anymore. It suits you."
Exactly. The boyish face was fading, giving way to a man's. A year of training there made it possible.
"You know we've got MT next week, right?"
"Yeah, but I probably can't make it."
"Why? Busy?"
"Not really, but..."
Hanging out with the club felt awkward. Euna picked up on it and smiled faintly.
"It's fine. You know what our members are like—they're all pretty innocent."
That was true. The Mystery Club met rarely and didn't do drinking parties. Unlike other clubs that held endless booze-fueled gatherings, they prioritized personal time. Most members were introverted and shy about showing off. They hadn't done an MT before, but they said it would be relaxed—no heavy drinking, just quiet fun.
"Yaseong, you should try going on a club MT at least once. Experience it first, then decide."
Senior Euna kept insisting, so he gave in. His curiosity about what an MT was like got the better of him. If it wasn't great, he could always skip the next one.
He paid the 50,000 won fee on the spot and parted ways with Senior Euna.
After stocking up on snacks at a convenience store, he headed home and went straight into the portal. It had become routine now. He would spend thirty days there and return after only five hours had passed at home.
The cashier had started giving him strange looks. Buying food in bulk every day? It probably looked like he was preparing for the apocalypse or hoarding. Next time, he'd go to a big supermarket instead.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
Hanyaseong practiced MMA beside a campfire near the broken pillar. After a year of training, he could execute kicks freely—roundhouse kicks, axe kicks, knee strikes, even mid-air 360 spins—without any difficulty.
Even considering the time difference, it felt excessive. He found it strange.
"Is gravity lighter here or something?"
He had always been clumsy. Growing up, he had zero athletic talent—bad at soccer, bad at basketball. He eventually gave up trying. He was a slow runner and preferred walking. But now? He felt like he could fly.
Living here had changed him. His senses were sharper, his vision clearer—things he'd never experienced in his own world. It was like becoming superhuman. Maybe that was why he kept coming back.
There was no proof yet, but even illnesses seemed like they could be cured in a matter of months here. The water, the air—everything was pure and refreshing, completely different from Earth.
He switched to boxing, then to special combat arts. His body responded eagerly now, and training had become enjoyable. At first, he had forced himself to learn the basics for survival in the forest. Progress had been slow and directionless. But after weeks passed, his body adapted, and it suddenly became addictive.
If he skipped even one day, his chest felt tight and his body sluggish. Daily training satisfied him, allowing him to sleep deeply after returning home and bathing.
Gripping the large hunting knife, he practiced techniques. He had already memorized the manuals completely. The clean air seemed to sharpen his mind, helping him focus and learn faster.
Swish! Swish!
Switching hands, he felt the difference clearly. With this level of skill, he would be unbeatable back home. Once someone who got pushed around, he now felt confident facing three or four opponents at once.
His body had been reborn, and his eyes had grown sharp. It felt like shedding an old shell—breaking free from a hard exterior. Satisfaction filled him, and his confidence surged. The self-loathing, dissatisfaction, emptiness, and apathy he once felt had disappeared. Some traces remained deep within him, but they no longer surfaced.
This world was his salvation—his only paradise.
Drenched in sweat, Hanyaseong continued training, a satisfied smile on his face.
On the day summer break began, the Mystery Club set off for their MT. Six men and four women—a total of ten people. Their destination was an uninhabited island. While Hanyaseong had missed the meeting, they had voted on a South Sea island for its "mysterious vibe."
They would spend two nights and three days on the deserted island.
Hanyaseong felt a slight pang of regret. They would have loved his portal world—a true mystery. But he couldn't tell them, which left him feeling a bit guilty.
They took a train to the southern coast, stocked up on food, then boarded a boat to the island. The boat captain promised to return in two days. Despite being called "uninhabited," there was still cell service. Fishermen occasionally used the place as a resting spot, so there were tents and basic facilities scattered around. It wasn't completely untouched wilderness.
The group started by pitching tents. The men took care of theirs, and the women handled theirs. But problems arose immediately. A third-year senior had brought a massive tent designed for fifteen people—it was far too large. The six men struggled to set it up, wasting nearly two hours in confusion.