Chapter 2
Chapter 2
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Weight of Silence
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Hwan-in had landed a job at a subsidiary of a massive corporation when his parents passed away in an accident, leaving him utterly alone in the world.
Relatives and so-called cousins had crawled out of the woodwork, eyeing the inheritance, but once everything was handled legally, those vultures vanished as quietly as they'd appeared, spewing curses on their way in.
It didn't leave a mark on Hwan-in, who had kept the inheritance intact.
He'd never cared much for human relationships to begin with. To him, people outside his own bubble were no different from ants scurrying along the roadside.
Anyway, after his parents—the ones who'd given his life purpose and direction—died in that accident, Hwan-in's days grew even more numb.
In his twenty-six years, he'd never found anything he truly wanted to do or achieve.
The only goal he'd ever had was to care for the parents who'd raised him without expecting anything in return.
But then they'd gone in a traffic accident.
Purpose, direction, goals.
With everything lost, Hwan-in wandered aimlessly for a bit, but he decided to live as ordinarily as his parents had wanted him to.
It wasn't hard.
He'd learned young that if he played the quiet listener, nodded along, and flashed a smile now and then, most people warmed up to him.
Imitate his parents' actions from memory, follow the lessons they'd taught, and there were no issues.
Sure, every once in a while he'd do something that made people recoil—"Whoa, is this guy a psychopath?" they'd mutter half-jokingly—but his reputation was decent enough.
And on the third anniversary of starting that job...
Hwan-in sized himself up and thought: human shell.
A husk with no desires, no interests, just shambling through life because he couldn't die.
That's why death held no terror for him. If it came knocking, he'd just think, Guess this is it, and accept it.
Indifferent to death, you could say.
But then he'd ended up in this bizarre place and, somehow, taken the lives of monsters he'd never seen before. For the first time, Hwan-in felt a surge of emotion.
The severing of life pulsing up from his soles. The lightness of it seeping into his palms.
A seed sprouted in his heart.
"...Hm."
Accepting that this wasn't Earth, Hwan-in made returning home his top priority.
There wasn't any grand reason.
After killing those three Green Monsters and riding the faint emotional high, the word return popped into his head, linking naturally to the idea of a goal.
No family, no real friends. No pressing need to get back to Earth. But he remembered his father talking about homesickness, and now he thought he understood—so he set it as his aim.
A goal that looked impossible at first glance. Still, feeling a slight thrill at having one for the first time, Hwan-in fiddled with the gold coin in his pocket.
Teleportation... or transmission?
Hwan-in had read novels of all genres for knowledge, including world-famous fantasies like Alice in Wonderland or The Wizard of Oz.
Picked up a gold coin and ended up in a strange world. So the coin was a medium for dimensional travel, and touching it had triggered the shift.
Gold coins were typically currency.
Currency meant civilization. Civilization and dimensional travel implied wizards somewhere in this world.
Find a wizard, ask about the coin, and he'd know his next step.
Major premise: Return to Earth.
Minor premise: Track down a wizard.
Immediate goal: Survive this jungle.
Not a bad set of objectives, he figured. So Hwan-in started moving, avoiding Green Monsters and seeking safer ground.
He had goals now... but honestly, the situation was dire.
Worries stacked like mountains—yeah, that fits here.
Fallen leaves and humus piled so thick they made every step a chore.
Bushes towering chest-high, sapping his vision and stamina alike.
The weather was just warm enough—no issue there. Nights would cool off, but he had the rags from the Green Monsters, and he could gather leaves from small trees for bedding to fend off the chill.
Starting a fire? Not smart. It might scare off beasts that hate flames, but curious ones could come sniffing around the light.
Bivouacking? He'd done it plenty with his dad in his lifetime—no qualms there.
Beyond those, minor headaches were endless, but the big ones right now were food, water—and whatever mystery monsters and beasts lurked in this jungle.
Grrrrowl...
His stomach rumbled.
He'd been here five hours.
Before that, just a few drinks, an energy drink, and a bit of chocolate. Basically, ten hours since lunch.
On Earth, securing food and water wouldn't be urgent.
Dew in the morning to wet his lips, forage some berries or nuts. Bark and roots if needed.
But...
Kiiiyooorrr...
"..."
A purple bird with horns sailed overhead, screeching oddly.
This wasn't Earth.
Sure, Earth had horned birds—hornbills, whatever. But no purple crane-sized ones with spiral drill-like horns.
Not in Hwan-in's memory, anyway.
So Earth's common sense and knowledge wouldn't apply. He had to assume that upfront.
Diseases from alien environments? No countering those. Beast or monster attacks while camping? Prep defenses.
But what could he even eat?
"If I roast it..."
He turned to an orange fruit the size of a 500-won coin nestled in dense brush, prodding its bumpy, bead-like surface with the stone axe, then shook his head.
Roasting wasn't guaranteed safe. Who knew what toxic chemical reactions it might trigger?
Water was the same problem.
Finding a source didn't mean it was drinkable. What microbes lurked in it? What effects on his body?
People got sick from local water on overseas trips. What if the whole world was different?
Physics seemed similar, so a simple filter or boiling might work.
Hwan-in had bushcrafted with his dad plenty—could rig a basic filter for muddy water or even pottery.
But bushcraft in a monster-infested forest?
That was suicide.
He felt an invisible blade pressing up to his throat.
First time in twenty-six years he'd felt that.
Night falls early in the jungle.
His mind brimmed with worries, but as dusk crept in, he scanned for immediate shelter.
His watch read 1:17 AM.
Arrival was around 5 PM. Sunset in spring's about 7 PM, so factoring Korean time difference... roughly eight hours ahead.
Eight-hour difference from Korea? That'd be Greenwich Mean Time, longitude 0°—Britain to Africa vertically.
Factor in the temperature...
Central African jungle, or primeval forests in Britain, France, Spain.
...Nah, doesn't add up.
Even assuming—fat chance—the Green Monsters were undocumented natives.
He'd trekked over 20 km in hours.
No European jungle with trees dozens of meters tall spanning 20 km radii, per his knowledge.
Never been to Africa, no interest, but daytime temps there in April-May hit 30°C easy, 40°C sometimes.
Not that hot here. Humidity high, though.
Just bolsters the 'not Earth' theory.
Searching for a spot to hole up overnight, Hwan-in sighed softly.
No good campsites nearby.
In an hour, pitch black. Nocturnal beasts possible. Shelter first.
Pressing on blindly? Foolish arrogance against the jungle.
Backtrack.
He returned to a spot from twenty minutes back he'd eyed earlier, eyes scanning the teeming jungle.
Life abounded here.
Plants, small critters, bugs—jungle basics, Earth-like enough.
Dig the soil a bit: golden-scaled earthworms, mole-like things, colorful grubs.
Tap bushes with the axe: glowing flies, mayflies blinking like they teleported.
Lucky no other monsters or beasts since the Green ones, but Hwan-in saw the lack of predators as ominous.
Those bipedal, tool-using Green Monsters might've driven them out or hunted them to claim territory.
All three were males.
Scrawny, but genitals dangling. Behavior and tools suggested females nesting safely somewhere, breeding.
The more he pieced it together, the worse it looked.
Small comfort: rolling in leaf litter to mask his city scent, smearing dirt and leaves on his clothes.
"Hoo."
Reaching his spot, Hwan-in sighed, gripping a tree root thicker than his torso.
Nearly nine hours nonstop—fatigue creeping in.
If only sneakers, not dress shoes. Sweatpants, not a suit.
That thought a hundred times already.
Anyway, leaving subtle markers only he recognized, he backtracked easily to the massive tree he'd scouted—a giant needing twenty adults to hug.
Exposed roots man-thick and tangled, with gaps big enough for a curled-up man.
He picked one, piled branches and leaves thick, topped with the Green Monster hides he'd looted.
Rubbed dirt and grass on the hides, but couldn't kill the musty, acrid stench—stinging nose and throat.
Plus fresh grass and wood smells.
"The house my parents left me was paradise."
Irritating fumes nearly triggered a cough, but he swallowed it, shed his suit coat, and wedged into the crevice.
Crouched naturally—luxury had no place in survival.
Clutching the stone axe to his chest, draping the gray coat over his front: cozy enough.
......
Had he been tense all day? Now, memories flooded as exhaustion, lulling him.
Hunger and thirst sharpened.
Tore shirt cuffs, wiped lining clean, sucked and rolled in mouth—saliva trickled.
Emergency measure only...
No food, no water: two days max. Better risk it while he had strength?
Those 500-won-sized fruits scattered everywhere.
Juicy-looking—could quench both hunger and thirst.
But...
"..."
Starve slowly... or risk poison fruit and maybe live.
No choice but the latter. One was certain death; the other had odds.
At least food he could choose. Air with toxins? Helpless.
Wasn't it germs—not invaders—that killed most New World natives?
Monsters around... could get killed too.
"Heh."
Hwan-in chuckled.
Last laugh? Elementary school, mom hugging him tight?
Like standing naked in a minefield. Not bad, though.
Hostile environment, survival shaky—but he'd thrash till the end.
Burying the bubbling laugh in his coat, Hwan-in sought sleep.