Minwoo stood in front of the wall, silent, his mind racing. He reached out and tried to push the doors, but they didn't budge. Not even a sound. He lingered for a moment, wondering, What is this?
Then, slowly, he began to examine the dark surface with both hands. The wall felt different here — not like the endless void behind him, but solid, ancient, almost alive. He ran his fingers across the stone, searching for any clue.
Suddenly, he noticed something. The two dark panels in front of him — doors, perhaps — were unlike the rest of the wall. He moved his hands over the surface, tracing the edges, the texture. Then, he stepped back and examined more of the wall, returning to the spot where he had first found them.
There, carved into the stone, were faint markings — not just random scratches, but ancient symbols, strange drawings, etched deep into the black surface. He stared at them, trying to make sense of what he was touching.
He was sure now — this was some kind of forgotten script, written in a language he couldn't understand. Alongside it, there were mysterious images, cryptic patterns, none of which made sense to him.
After studying them for a while, he moved on, searching the rest of the wall for more clues. He checked every inch he could reach, but found nothing else. Finally, he looked up. There were areas he hadn't examined yet — parts too high for him to reach before.
He raised his left hand and began to feel the upper sections of the wall, searching for anything hidden, anything new.
After a while, he found nothing at all. Everything above was the same — just endless, unbroken darkness. He couldn't make sense of it, not even the upper sections. Minwoo's mind filled with frustration.
What are these things?
And why the hell am I stuck in this darkness?
It had to be more than half a day by now.
And that wasn't all.
There was no water. No food.
Not to mention that creature of darkness — always watching, always waiting.
A wave of fear washed over him.
What if he was trapped here forever?
No escape.
No light to give him hope.
No food to ease his hunger.
No water to quench his thirst.
The thought made him feel even more exhausted than before.
He kept searching the dark surface, running his hands over the stone, hoping for a clue.
Then, suddenly, his fingers brushed against something different — a shape, like a cross or a star, carved into the wall above him.
When he touched it, he paused.
Hmm… looks like I actually found an ancient part of the drawing, he thought.
Something I can at least recognize.
He traced the lines.
It's a cross… no, wait. There's a circle at the intersection. And even more lines, thinner, at a particular angle. Maybe the cross is thick, and the circle…
Then it hit him.
It's like a twinkling star.
He took his left hand away and switched to his right.
His left hand was tired — he'd been searching for over an hour, and his fingers ached.
He pressed his right hand against the star-like shape.
But he accidentally put too much pressure on it.
And then —
The dark surface began to move.
Slowly, slowly, the wall opened.
It was a door.
The door made an ancient sound — a deep, groaning creak, like stone grinding against stone after centuries of silence. Dust fell from the edges, swirling in the faint air. The sound echoed through the void, as if the darkness itself had been sealed for thousands of years, untouched, forgotten.
Minwoo gasped in astonishment.
Slowly, slowly, the door opened fully, revealing a narrow passage beyond.
He stood there, motionless, heart pounding.
A wave of fear and surprise washed over him.
He had never expected this.
He had never imagined anything like it.
Finally, he made his decision.
He would enter.
There were traces of light ahead — faint, but real.
He was sure something waited inside.
Something important.
As he stepped through the doorway, the ground beneath him vanished.
He fell — hard — and suddenly woke up in his bed, sitting upright.
His eyes were wide with terror, his breath ragged.
He whispered, voice trembling,
"It... it was j... just a nightmare, right?"
He was still shocked, still trembling.
His mind raced, recalling everything that had happened in the darkness.
He remembered the endless black, the cold obsidian ground, the echo of his own voice.
He remembered walking for hours, feeling the weight of isolation pressing down on him.
He remembered the vast, terrifying presence that had watched him from the void.
He remembered the wall, the two doors, the ancient symbols carved into the stone.
He remembered the star-like shape, the moment he pressed it, the sound of the door opening after centuries of silence.
And then — the fall.
The waking.
It had felt so real.
So impossible.
So terrifying.
Minwoo decided to drink water, as if he had been thirsty for ages. He gulped it down, feeling the cool liquid soothe his dry throat. Then, he opened the refrigerator and took out a rice ball and a bowl of ramen.
He moved to the kitchen, placing the ingredients on the counter. He filled a pot with water, added the ramen, and set it on the stove. While it boiled, he unwrapped the rice ball, checking its freshness. He knew the trick to making instant ramen taste better — a pinch of salt, a splash of soy sauce, and a dash of sesame oil. He stirred it gently, letting the flavors blend.
When the ramen was ready, he poured it into a bowl, added the rice ball, and sat down. He ate like someone who hadn't eaten in days, savoring every bite, feeling the warmth spread through his body. The hunger that had gnawed at him in the darkness was finally easing.
After finishing, he took a bath, scrubbing away the lingering chill of the nightmare. He brushed his teeth, washed his face, and combed his hair. He dressed in his high school uniform, making sure everything was neat and in place. He checked his bag, packed his books, and stood in front of the mirror, ready to face the day.
He walked toward his high school, the familiar route stretching out before him. The morning air was cool, carrying the faint scent of street food from the nearby stalls. He passed the same old convenience store, the same faded sign, the same cracked pavement he had walked over a thousand times before. The city was waking up — delivery bikes weaving through traffic, students in uniforms hurrying past, the occasional dog barking from a balcony above.
He turned the corner, passing the small park where kids played during lunch breaks. The school gate loomed ahead, surrounded by the usual crowd of students chatting, laughing, waiting for the bell. The building itself was nothing special — red bricks, tall windows, a worn-out flag fluttering in the breeze. He had seen it every day, but today, it felt different. The nightmare still lingered in his mind, making the world seem a little less real, a little more fragile.
He stepped through the gate, blending into the flow of students, but his thoughts were elsewhere — caught between the darkness he had left behind and the ordinary world he was returning to.
Minwoo stepped through the school gates, the familiar sound of chatter and footsteps filling the air. Students flowed in, some laughing, others rushing to class, the morning sun casting long shadows across the courtyard. He walked past the bulletin board, the same old posters flapping in the breeze, and climbed the stairs to the third floor. Each step echoed with memories — the first day of school, the countless mornings just like this, the quiet loneliness that always lingered.
He reached his classroom, where a few students were already seated, talking in low voices. The room smelled of chalk and old books, the windows open to let in the breeze. Minwoo made his way to the last bench, near the window, and sat down. He looked out at the distant sky, the clouds drifting slowly, the sun breaking through in patches.
He thought,
"The sky is vast, the clouds are free,
But I am bound by the weight of me.
The world moves on, but I stay still,
A shadow beneath the endless hill."