Not Ping-Chaeng: Highway to a Parallel Earth

I'm no ping-chaeng. Mountains, fields, more mountains, and even a sign reading

—anyone could tell this was a highway. Sitting in the middle of the van, I savored the unique hum of highway travel like ASMR while gazing out the window. Who would've thought I'd see this scenery again...

"Unnie! Can we make a quick stop at the rest area?"

The woman sitting next to me beamed brightly as she spoke. My mind was a whirlwind, but I forced a smile and nodded. Once I'd answered, I turned back to the window, replaying the events from two hours ago.

Before hitting the highway, we'd escaped the dungeon ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and headed straight to a hospital near Gangneung to treat the most seriously injured man. While the group rushed their comrade to check-in, I stayed in the car, borrowing the woman's smartphone to search around.

Long story short: this wasn't the Earth I knew. It was like the original Earth, but infused with fantasy elements—magic and monsters. The basic flow of history and events matched, but the big one to note was the incident in 1980: the Dimension Break.

Anyone with mana—the source of superhuman power—could register as a hunter with the Bureau's backing. They formed independent groups called 'guilds' for cooperation and competition. That was the rundown on the Dimension Break and awakeners, straight out of elementary textbooks.

Oh, and the group I saved? All registered hunters—awakeners by trade.

Then there are 'returnees.' Sometimes, regular folks get lost in gates or dungeons. Survival odds alone in a dungeon? Under 10%. Bump into hunters, and it jumps to 90%.

Gates are worse—if you're lost inside one, you're declared dead. But against astronomical odds, some vanish for a year or up to a decade, return awakened, and empowered. Those are returnees. Worldwide tally so far: ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠about 10,000. Like me, stumbling out of a dungeon solo and getting scooped up by hunters.

Returnees get VIP treatment—stronger than average awakeners—but most suffer PTSD from other dimensions, struggling to readjust. Bad enough that the Hunter Management Bureau has a dedicated department for problem cases.

The more I heard, the less sure I felt about being labeled a returnee. Sure, I came from another dimension, but this isn't my Earth. It's a whole different world. Logically, a guy named Yu I-kwon never existed here, right?

Wrong again.

After check-in, the hunters admitted their fallen comrade and planned to sue the guild that nearly killed them. They left one behind to watch him, and the three of us headed to Seoul—me included.

En route, the woman beside me kindly showed me a site for checking gate missing persons. I grabbed her phone, punched in my name and resident registration front digits.

There it was. This world had a Yu I-kwon too. Time must flow differently—here, I'd only been gone six years. I vanished the summer after discharge, around July 2020. Now it's September 2026. So... did I have parents and a sister here too?

I wanted more details, but the internet only went so far. Family registry? Needed certified certificates. Gave up.

And this goddamn public certificate still haunts us after six years? I swear I saw articles about scrapping it before I vanished. Still kicking.

Good news: the hunter woman said Seoul's Hunter Management Bureau has full records.

"Anything you want to eat? We'll cover it, no matter how much."

We'd pulled into the rest area's lot. The man who'd driven nonstop—their leader, by the look of him—glanced at me in the rearview, polite as can be.

"Oh, no thanks. You've done enough helping me out. Can't impose with food too..."

"Nonsense! It's the least for our lifesaver! Just say ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the word—we'll fetch it!"

Is this what they call slipping an envelope? Not bad. Persistent refusal might cause a scene, so I graciously accepted.

I grabbed the van door to open it, but the woman next to me stopped me cold.

"Unnie! W-wait a sec!"

"? Something wrong...?"

"Well... 'wrong' might be strong, but going out in your current outfit could be... tricky."

My outfit? Why? I checked myself over.

Ah.

Ankle-length black cheongsam-style dress, clinging tight to accentuate my voluptuous curves—where it should dip in, it did; where it should flare out, it exploded. Deep V-neck plunging to show off cleavage, back ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠open to the tailbone, exposing flawless porcelain skin. Slits like a qipao bared my thighs in a tantalizing tease. Battle had dirtied it up, but it'd served its purpose.

Hmm... yeah, stepping out like this? Walking 19+ content. Way too sexy.

To avoid becoming the men's evening side dish at the rest stop, I borrowed spare clothes from the hunter woman and changed.

Light rose-pink dolphin pants matching my hair, crisp white tee, swapped heels for three-striped slippers. Chilly out, so I added the leader's black hoodie. Didn't think I needed it, but the tee... well, it was insufficient for my ample chest. And since I never wore a bra except for bottoms, things were... prominently protruding. Awkward.

When I mentioned the tee being too small, the lending hunter's face twisted like she'd witnessed cosmic injustice. The man flushed beet red, fidgeting.

"Ahem! L-let's head to the food court first."

Following his lead, we passed the outdoor walnut cookie and sausage stand, heading inside. Walnut cookies tempted me—maybe ask later?

At the kiosk, he suddenly looked shifty, thrusting his card at the woman hunter.

"Soyeon-ah, order with this. Gotta hit the bathroom quick."

"Huh...? If it was that urgent, just say so. What do you want, oppa? I can order ahead..."

"N-no!! I'll get mine after! Might take a while—eat without me!"

"?"

He gave me a quick apologetic bow and bolted back the way we came.

"Must be urgent. Unnie, like oppa said—let's order. What'll it be?"

"Tteok ramen and a side of rice, please."

"Just one? You're an awakener too—that won't fill you up."

"I-I'll order more if needed."

"Heh heh, it's not my money—order away."

Grinning wickedly, she navigated to ramen, added my tteok ramen and rice. For herself, straight to instant grill section: two pork-kimchi bulgogi rice bowls, no hesitation.

Ooh, grilled pork belly kimchi fried rice too? Eye it for later.

Card in, paid, out popped the order ticket. Place wasn't crowded—plenty of seats. We grabbed one near ramen and grill pickup.

Then, stares hit like clockwork. A family of four across the way. Passersby returning trays. Even kitchen aunties peeking. A couple strolled by; guy gawked openly, girl punched his shoulder—no reaction. Finally, she full-swung his cheek in fury. Comedy gold.

Being pretty is a crime, huh. Or maybe I just stand out? Light rose-pink hair, ruby-red eyes—not common in Korea. Even in Nihilum or Triia, no one matched my shade. Pinkies aplenty, but my pale rose? Rare. Too light for webnovel "ping-chaeng." Important: I'm no ping-chaeng.

But kitchen auntie's taking forever. Three minutes, no water even.

I death-stared her for my ramen. Finally, she scrambled into action.

Ah, starving—dizzy already.