The Truth of Two Worlds: Wuxia and Fantasy
Afternoon, 1 PM. He rolled around on the bed. Crushing drowsiness pinned down his entire body. Every time he tossed and turned, his loose short-sleeved T-shirt rode up to his chest. Cool air brushed his bare skin, but he didn't even have the energy to open his eyes and pull it down.
Knock knock.
A knock at the door. He didn't answer. Just pretend to be asleep, and they'll leave. But his shallow ploy didn't work.
Whoosh.
Familiar footsteps approached the bedside.
"Our little pup. Still sleeping?"
His mother's voice. The blanket was yanked away. She lightly tapped his fully exposed belly, rolled up from below.
"It's already lunchtime. Don't sleep with your belly sticking out like that—you'll get a stomachache. Get up and eat."
"Ugh..."
He groaned, furrowing his brow. His eyelids felt like a thousand pounds. His mother slipped both hands under his armpits.
Up he went with a light lift. No chance to resist—his upper body was pulled upright. In a hazy daze, he let her lead him out of the room.
His butt hit the dining chair. Eyes half-closed, he picked up a spoon. He roughly scooped some kimchi stew broth and bit into a thick slice of rolled omelet. Still groggy with sleep, he swallowed without tasting a thing.
He finished the meal haphazardly. Stumbling to the bathroom, he turned on the cold tap at the sink and roughly splashed his face. Only then did his foggy mind start to clear bit by bit.
He dried his face with a towel. In the mirror, a silver-haired beauty with indifferent red eyes stared right back at him, her face damp with water.
Should be used to it by now, but I still flinch sometimes when I'm half-asleep. He hung the towel on the rack and headed to the living room.
His mother was sitting on the sofa watching TV. He slumped down next to her, sprawling out. At that moment, the smartphone he'd tossed on the table buzzed loudly.
Caller: Park Jin-cheol, Association President.
Ominous. He extended his mana to press the call button and switched to speakerphone.
"Why."
-Oh, Tae-ho! You resting?
The old man's voice sounded strangely excited over the line.
-That massive data you collected from raiding those guilds. Our research team pulled an all-nighter compiling and running the first analysis!
He blinked. They'd already crunched that mountain of data?
"Already? Way faster than I thought. You guys fire up a supercomputer or something?"
-Haha! Gotta hustle—we're Korean, aren't we? Worked the researchers till their noses bled.
Exploitative boss.
-Want me to fire the files over secure email first? Or come to the Association for a proper briefing? It's serious enough you'd better see it in person.
What a pain. But the possibility of Neidan and the true nature of Gates were directly tied to his own safety. He couldn't just blow it off.
"Send the files first, then. I'll head over for the details."
-Good! Don't be late!
The call cut off. He dragged himself up from the sofa.
"Mom. Heading out for a bit."
"Oh dear. Work again? Be careful out there."
He went back to his room and changed into going-out clothes. Opening the balcony window, he gathered mana at his toes and kicked off into the air. He soared across the city skyline straight to the Hunter Association HQ in the heart of Gangnam.
Association President's office. Pushing open the heavy soundproof door unleashed a wave of thick coffee aroma mixed with cigarette smoke. Park Jin-cheol sat on the sofa, bloodshot eyes buried in a stack of documents. He looked like he'd pulled an all-nighter.
"You're here."
The old man shoved a bundle of papers toward him.
"Raid logs from weird dungeons at Hongryeon Guild, Paradise, and the other guilds you shook down. Monster dissection data. And our research team's synthesized hypothesis report."
He sat on the opposite sofa and picked up the documents. Pages crammed with dense text and anatomical photos.
"Conclusion first. What's it say."
"Monsters pouring from Gates. They split perfectly into two distinct ecosystems."
The old man rubbed his dry face and continued.
"Think of it like fantasy and wuxia. Completely different evolutionary paths."
He flipped the first page. Side-by-side diagrams: skeletons of mana stone-bearing orcs and goblins versus dissections of presumed Neidan-carrying beasts.
"Gates as a phenomenon..."
The old man's voice grew heavy.
"We've always seen them as mere spatial rifts spewing monsters. But no. They're clear passages letting lifeforms cross from other dimensions—or other spaces—into ours."
"Stating the obvious."
"The issue is, it's not just one connected dimension."
The old man stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray.
"One dimension based on mana and mana stones—western fantasy style. Another on ki and Neidans—eastern wuxia style. At least two entirely separate worlds punching holes into this planet all at once."
His finger paused mid-flip. The scale was getting weirdly massive.
"We don't know the cause—neither us nor the scientists. But one thing's sure: real worlds with their own civilizations and ecosystems exist beyond. And there's an even uglier hypothesis stemming from that."
The old man pointed to the very last page. A graph of casualties and missing persons from the initial Gate Shock.
"Three years ago, when Gates first erupted—over 100 million missing worldwide. Not deaths—people who vanished without a trace, no bodies. Korea alone lost 400,000."
"Eaten by monsters. No bones left."
He replied dryly, but the old man shook his head.
"Too many clean vanishings. No predation traces at all. What if... they didn't die? What if the dimensional backlash when Gates opened swept them over to the other side?"
He narrowed his eyes.
"You're saying humans might still be surviving on the other side."
"Exactly. And the research team's core hypothesis is this."
The old man leaned forward intently.
"The Gates we've sealed so far? Temporary one-way portals that close over time or vanish on clear. But a permanent, fully bidirectional Gate linking to the other side could have opened somewhere on Earth."
"......"
"Or already has—and the superpowers are hiding it. America, China, Russia."
The old man's eyes gleamed sharply.
"If some nation is monopolizing other-side resources through a two-way Gate—Neidans beyond mana stones, otherworldly elixirs, artifacts? The global power structure flips overnight. Might as well be colonizing a new dimension."
His head throbbed dully. Brutal headache. He'd thought it was just a simple defense game, smacking down stray beasts in the neighborhood. But the old man's briefing hinted this could escalate into inter-dimensional war—and a massive geopolitical scramble among great powers.
"This data. It's solid, right."
He set the documents down on the table. The old man nodded gravely without a word. No wild speculation—chilling facts cross-verified from thousands of dissections and guild raid logs.
"You gonna pass this to the government?"
At his question, the old man stroked his chin and let out a deep sigh.
"Gotta mull it over. But yeah, the Blue House needs to know. Too big for us to handle solo. Need national power—diplomatic networks to probe global intel agencies, uncover hidden Gates abroad. Pool the info, and we'll reach the truth."
The old man was right. This wasn't something a few skilled hunters could hack and slash their way through.
"Hoo..."
He exhaled shortly. Leaning deep into the sofa backrest, he muttered dryly.
"I'll leave the call to you. Politics ain't my problem."
His role was crystal clear. Whatever crawled through from the other side, bidirectional Gate or not—he'd overwhelm any threat to his daily life and family with sheer violence.
"I'll swing by more guilds, check for anything suspicious."
He hopped up from his seat. His head was too cluttered. His vessel was too weighed down by laziness to swallow grand worldbuilding hooks. Glancing down at the old man, he raised his right hand. With a casual wrist flick—like downing a shot of soju—he made the gesture.
"Feeling shitty, head pounding. Let's grab a drink. Old man."
A smirk crept across the old man's tense face at the gesture.
"Haha, sure. All-nighter's got me craving booze bad."
The old man stood, grabbing the receiver on his desk.
"Secretary Kim. Cancel all my afternoon schedule. Urgent business with Hunter Kang. Don't disturb."
He slammed the receiver down and shrugged on his jacket. They left the president's office side by side.
For now, they'd drown the complicated, sticky truth in alcohol. On the way home, a shot of soju and some pork belly felt more urgent than the world's potential doom tomorrow.