The Other Side of the Wall
When I first looked around near my house in this fantasy world, there wasn't even a hint of any massive wall—just an endless sea of shantytowns that looked like one giant garbage dump. Just how far had I walked to reach this place? Or more importantly, just how ridiculously vast was this rotten slum district anyway?
In this primitive world without smartphone maps or drone footage, it was impossible to even guess at the population density. I'd vaguely figured it must be a little bigger than the hillside slums behind Seoul Station and left it at that. But this sewer seemed to mock my shallow imagination, stretching out in grotesquely enormous proportions.
So then, what the hell was this moss-covered, majestic wall blocking my path? There was no way the beggars living in mud huts that couldn't even keep out the rain had pooled their pennies to build something like the Great Wall of China. Logically speaking, a civil engineering project on this scale would require an insane budget, massive manpower, and a powerful central government with the economic infrastructure to control it all.
There was no chance such advanced systems existed in a place where people staked their lives on a single piece of bread. Using my meager modern knowledge, the conclusion was simple and bitterly clear. This wall was definitely not a defensive line built to protect us from outside threats.
So who was it actually built for? The answer was obvious. This solid, gigantic wall existed to lock us in, to isolate us. Or maybe whoever lived on the other side simply didn't want to have to look at scum like us.
What kind of privileged bastards were living beyond it, enjoying what kind of glittering civilization? As one suspicion led to another, a scene from a few nights ago suddenly flashed through my mind—the prostitutes and young kids leaving with that gang of delinquents.
…No way.
Maybe those kids had gone to sell their bodies to the rich people on the other side? Wait. If that was true, then crossing the wall meant there had to be a passage somewhere in this stupidly huge slab of stone. A rat hole, a dog flap, a proper gate—something.
My heart suddenly hammered against my ribs like it had lost its mind. Yeah. It felt like a shining rope had been lowered into the well where a starving frog had been waiting to die. And unlike everyone else, I had a secret joker card: magic. If those neighborhood thugs could slip in and out whenever they wanted, there was no reason I—who could freely manipulate invisible lines—couldn't escape this shithole.
Hell, I might even manage it in a far more creative way than they ever could. Whatever waited beyond the wall, I was one hundred percent certain it would be better than this pathetic existence. Obviously. This miserable spoon-class life where I survived on scraps that barely had any nutrition, begging for coins while coughing up blood like some tragic actor.
Even if the other side turned out to be a sweatshop run by some evil factory owner or a brutal labor camp, it would still be better than this perfect waste disposal facility that offered no future, no welfare, and no hope. Even a basement would have a higher ceiling than this rotten dirt floor I was currently rolling around on.
Once the decision was made, an unfamiliar energy surged through my twisted body. I started walking tight along the base of the wall. If I searched every inch with my eyes wide open, surely an entrance would reveal itself somewhere along this endless barrier.
It didn't take long. In fact, I found the entrance so quickly it felt almost insulting.
At the point where the slum's winding trash alleys suddenly ended, an overwhelmingly massive steel gate stood integrated into the wall itself, firmly shut. But something felt off.
In a slum this overcrowded, what should a gate look like? There should have been grim guards checking permits, smugglers trying to scrape up any crumbs they could, or swarms of beggars clinging to anyone who might open the door. Instead, there wasn't a single spear-carrying sentry. Not even a stray dog.
The shantytown buildings that should have been packed right up to the gate had all been cleared away, leaving nothing but a wide, desolate dirt clearing the size of a soccer field. Whenever the wind blew, only hollow clouds of dust rolled across the emptiness. The silence was eerie.
Why was this place so empty? Why did everyone avoid the area around this exit like they'd made some unspoken pact? Was there some kind of death rule here—where just lingering too close got your head chopped off or made you disappear without a trace?
I'd find out soon enough by looking. There was no one around to worry about anyway. I quickly robbed an easy stall in the market to fill my empty stomach, then returned and hid behind a shadowy structure near the bizarre clearing. I waited until the sun had completely set.
After some time, when the slum had fallen into total darkness, they finally appeared. The prostitutes with their heavy makeup, the young girls, and the gang of delinquents leading them. The exact group I'd seen the night before stepped into the clearing.
I swallowed hard and focused. I imagined my vision expanding intensely, and the thick shadows around me began to slither toward my eyes, wrapping around my pupils. Suddenly it was like wearing night-vision goggles. The pitch-black darkness opened up as clear as daylight, and every movement those people made stood out in sharp slow-motion detail.
This is actually insane. Isn't my magic a little too versatile?
I silently cheered the incredible upgrade to my eyeballs and tracked their movements obsessively. But they didn't stop in front of the massive steel gate like I'd expected. The group halted quite far from it, in a corner of the clearing, and started digging through the dirt and debris as if they’d done it a hundred times before.
When the dust settled, a small, worn trapdoor cleverly hidden in the ground revealed itself. So that's the real entrance. A literal rat hole.
I held my breath and watched the group disappear one by one beneath the old trapdoor. Part of me wondered if I should follow them right now. But my survival instinct screamed in immediate, violent protest.
Logically, that gloomy hole was obviously an illegal secret passage dug by gangsters who didn't want anyone knowing about it. If they caught me tailing them? Those vicious bastards weren't going to say "Oh, a lost kid. Come with us~" and kindly show me the way. Like any crime movie cliché, they'd decide "You know our secret now, so we can't let you live" and snap my neck on the spot before burying me in the dirt.
They were the apex predators of this lawless slum, ruling through fists and blades. With only one life to my name, I had zero interest in poking dangerous people and getting marked. So I stayed perfectly silent, waiting until the very last one had vanished and the trapdoor closed.
I checked the area twice, then three times, making absolutely sure no one remained. Only then did I carefully back away and leave.
The next morning, as soon as dawn broke, I returned to that desolate clearing. I pried open the trapdoor with a grunt and boldly dropped into the underground passage below.
“Ugh…”
The moment I stepped inside, a piercing stench and musty smell of earth slammed into me. The tunnel was damp, chilly, and completely lightless. Every footstep produced a disgusting squelching sound, like walking through mud.
And this insane passage just kept going. No matter how far I walked, there was no end in sight. Just how long is this damn tunnel? My legs started shaking. My breath grew short.
There was no way humans had dug something this massive with a few shovels. Did mole-people live around here? Or had they hired a wizard who specialized in digging holes? I rolled those ridiculous yet strangely serious thoughts around in my head as I trudged through the endless, disgusting mud tunnel.
Then, far ahead, I saw light.
Panting, I chased after it. At the end of the passage, I shoved aside the final barrier—an old wooden plank—with both hands.
Creeeeak—.
The moment the plank moved, the foul stench was replaced by crisp, cold dawn air that stabbed deep into my lungs. I squinted against the blinding light, then carefully crawled out into a damp alleyway draped in deep shadows.
The alley I’d expected to be full of filth and garbage was the complete opposite. Instead of muddy sludge, the ground was perfectly paved with smoothly finished, expensive-looking stones. For a dark alley, it was far cleaner and more luxurious than the main streets of the slum I’d come from. I almost laughed out loud.
I cautiously left the alley and stepped onto a wide main street. The moment I did, the sight before me nearly made me lose consciousness.
“Wow… holy shit.”
My jaw dropped so far it felt like it might unhinge. There were no more mud huts. No more swarms of beggars in rags. Instead of precarious shantytowns stacked like toothpicks, majestic buildings rose endlessly into the sky—constructed from geometrically perfect, beautifully cut stones in every color.
Intricate statues decorated the streets. People in refined clothing walked with genuine energy and life. The high-resolution fantasy city I’d only ever seen on monitors now stood before me in overwhelming scale and vivid, breathing texture.
It had been worth digging through that shitty hole. Yes. This was the taste of civilized society I had craved so desperately. With my filthy face and grimy body, I stared at the brilliant cityscape in a daze, feeling an electric thrill run through me.