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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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Less than five minutes after leaving the apartment,
Lee Hyun-woo led Angie to a fast-food restaurant.
The familiar red sign with the yellow “M” felt strangely foreign to Aslan.
Fast food, after twelve years. Lee Hyun-woo stepped inside, the familiar yet unfamiliar routine of ordering feeling oddly disjointed, as if his limbs weren’t his own.
But despite the strangeness, the process was simple. He ordered, then sat down at a table across from Angie.
This meticulously crafted dream, even in its smallest details, evoked a sense of nostalgia, a longing for a life he had almost forgotten. A life as Lee Hyun-woo, not Aslan.
He looked at the hamburger with anticipation. A perfectly cooked patty, drenched in a sweet and savory bulgogi sauce.
It wasn’t his favorite, but after six years without tasting anything, any flavor was a welcome sensation.
Lee Hyun-woo carefully lifted the burger and took a bite. The lettuce crunched between his teeth, the pickle squishing against his tongue.
He tasted nothing. Undeterred, he chewed, hoping for a flicker of flavor.
But there was nothing. Only the textures – the soft bun, the savory patty, the tangy sauce – registered faintly on his tongue.
He smiled wryly, closing his eyes.
Equalize had many side effects. It was unavoidable, considering the spell was designed for maintaining the integrity of experimental subjects, not for healing.
And among those side effects, the most… persistent… was the loss of his sense of taste. It had happened six years ago, a consequence of his repeated use of Equalize, pushing the spell to its limits, using it to deceive his enemies, to create openings for devastating counterattacks.
“It’s a dream.”
He muttered, the words laced with a quiet sadness. Angie, sensing his disappointment, the emotions swirling within him, spoke,
“It’s… sweet and sour… and savory… The meat is good… and the… uh… what’s it called… the bread is warm and soft…”
She continued to describe the flavors, sauce smeared around her mouth, her words a jumble of enthusiastic descriptions. She took a sip of her cola, declaring it sweet and fizzy, then another bite of her burger, marveling at the complex flavors.
Aslan, listening to her, realized she was trying to describe the taste for him, knowing he couldn’t experience it himself.
“Thank you.”
“No, it’s… it’s nothing. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but… it’s nothing.”
She looked away, embarrassed by her own kindness, but her concern was obvious.
Aslan sighed and finished his burger. Angie, abandoning her attempts at description, focused on her own meal.
Silence fell between them, broken only by the sounds of chewing and the occasional sip of cola. Then,
“So you’ve been eating delicious food like this all this time?”
“…Sometimes?”
“Then this place must be like paradise. No gods, no monsters… it must be amazing.”
Aslan chuckled at her innocent remark.
“Not really. People still die, you know.”
Even without gods and monsters, people still died. Accidents, illnesses, violence.
He couldn’t help but think of his father.
Angie, their minds connected, saw the image flicker in his mind.
A man with a kind face, resembling Aslan but with traces of Lee Hyun-woo, the boy he had once been. She instinctively knew this was the owner of the voice she had heard earlier.
“…Who was that?”
She had to ask. Aslan’s sadness, his pain, was palpable.
She didn’t know him well. She only knew a small part of him.
And she wanted to know more.
Aslan didn’t want to talk about it.
Not because he didn’t want to share,
But because he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to stop.
He hesitated, then sighed and asked,
“Do you… want to know?”
Angie’s answer was immediate, honest.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“…Because I don’t know you.”
She crumpled the burger wrapper in her hands, her eyes fixed on Aslan.
“I want to know more about you. Why you’re so strong, why you’re so kind. I want to understand. So… tell me.”
Her golden eyes shone as she looked at him, the boy who had been nineteen when he was transported into his favorite game, the boy who had spent twelve years wandering through a brutal world.
He was no longer a boy, not mentally, but he still looked like one.
Lee Hyun-woo lowered his gaze, then spoke.
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Lee Hyun-woo’s father had been a firefighter.
And Lee Hyun-woo had been proud of him. His father had been proud of his job as well.
Whenever young Hyun-woo asked why he was a firefighter, if he wasn’t afraid of fire, how he could run into burning buildings to save people, his father would smile gently and reply,
“When I see a fire, I think to myself, ‘I’m the only one who can save them. Only I can do this.’ That’s why I do it.”
Hyun-woo would argue, pointing out that there were other firefighters, that his father wasn’t alone.
His father would chuckle and say,
“Of course there are other firefighters. But… when I see someone in danger, right in front of me, I’m the only one who can save them at that moment. I can’t just stand by and expect someone else to do it.”
Hyun-woo had agreed, and his father had smiled, adding,
“Son, I want you to be someone who does what needs to be done.”
Lee Hyun-woo had never forgotten those words.
He couldn’t.
A son never forgets his father’s last words.
His father had died saving people from a burning building, his portrait, framed by two black ribbons, a stark reminder of his sacrifice.
Lee Hyun-woo had been thirteen years old.
“…So, that voice…”
“I don’t know. But it’s not a good sign.”
The subway rattled as it entered the station. Angie, slightly unnerved by the large, moving vehicle, instinctively huddled closer to Aslan.
“There’s no way he’s… home…”
But a part of him, a childish, hopeful part, wished it was true. He wished that all the horrors he had endured were just a dream.
He knew it was impossible, and he sighed, stepping through the open subway doors.
“What is this?”
“A subway. Just think of it as an underground carriage.”
“Oh… subway…”
Angie repeated the word, her pronunciation awkward, her eyes wide with wonder. Lee Hyun-woo led her to a seat, sitting beside her.
Despite being rush hour, the subway car was surprisingly empty.
Perhaps because time had no meaning in this dreamscape. Or perhaps his memories, after twelve years, had simply faded.
He was lost in thought when Angie leaned against him, and the subway lurched forward.
The car rattled and swayed, a faint vibration rising from the floor, the seats, the walls.
The other passengers were either reading or looking at their smartphones.
Aslan watched them, then continued his story.
“After my father died, my mother told me one thing. To only help people if my own life wasn’t in danger.”
He understood his mother’s fear, the pain of losing her husband. He had experienced that pain himself, so it was only natural that he understood.
So he had been careful. At least, on Earth.
In Gelladrion, Aslan hadn’t hesitated to risk his life. Survival was his priority, but if necessary, he would use his own life as a tool to achieve his goals.
Angie, knowing this, looked at him, her expression puzzled. Aslan stared out the window, then turned to Angie, gesturing towards the passing scenery.
“Wow.”
The Han River flowed past, its surface reflecting the city lights. Cars sped across the bridges, massive structures that defied Angie’s medieval understanding of architecture.
Giant steel bridges. Angie stared at them, her mind reeling.
Earth, a world of towering structures and peaceful lives, a world where such marvels were commonplace.
And Gelladrion…
“Broken.”
Lee Hyun-woo finished her thought, and Angie looked at him, his dark eyes filled with a sadness she hadn’t seen when his eyes were teal.
“You see? If I’m not there… if I don’t do something… if I don’t show them what’s wrong… the people of Gelladrion won’t even know they’re broken.”
They would simply continue to be exploited, to be killed. His voice, low and bitter, was filled with a quiet conviction.
“If I don’t do it, no one will. I’m the only one who remembers this world. If I give up… Gelladrion will never change.”
Angie didn’t argue. She couldn’t. Seeing this world, a world without gods or monsters, she knew he was right.
“…So, where are we going?”
She asked, watching the city lights blur past. Lee Hyun-woo replied,
“Remember what I said earlier?”
“Earlier? What…?”
“I said I had an idea.”
Angie’s eyes widened in realization.
“You said you were going to recreate what happened before you went to Gelladrion.”
Aslan nodded.
“This is where I was… right before I arrived in Gelladrion.”
Aslan fell silent, and Angie, watching him, tried to gauge his mood, his thoughts. She stole glances at his profile.
The subway rattled to a stop. Lee Hyun-woo, without a word, led her outside, his pace brisk.
After walking for at least ten minutes, he stopped.
They were on a pedestrian overpass, overlooking a busy street bathed in the orange glow of streetlights.
The overpass was deserted, overlooking a steep, forested hillside. The drop was significant, even Angie, unfamiliar with Earth, could tell it was a long way down.
Aslan leaned against the railing, Angie looking at him, her brow furrowed in confusion.
“This is where I was… right before I arrived in Gelladrion. This is where… I fell.”
Angie’s eyes widened in alarm as she looked down. The drop was sheer, a dizzying height. A fatal fall.
She opened her mouth to speak, unsure what she wanted to say.
“Aslan…”
Lee Hyun-woo, the boy who had become Aslan, smiled wryly and shook his head.
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Ah shi, he unsubscribed to life voluntarily