"Ah… huh? Where am I? I thought I was sleeping just now…?"
That was the first question to escape the expressive yet pitiful mouth of Jung Proto—I mean, if any of us were in his position, we'd probably ask the same thing—whether it came from philosophical confusion or was just a nervous joke, who knows?
What's clear is that this was the very first sentence he uttered upon entering this strange, surreal, and deeply confusing world.
The world before him was filled with endless fields of grass and small trees stretching as far as the eye could see, accompanied by empty houses with no doors. Some even had swimming pools that, upon closer inspection, weren't pools at all, but cardboard shaped to resemble one. There were no birds, no animals, no signs of life whatsoever. Only the sun and an unnaturally blue sky illuminated Jung Proto.
Jung began walking, scanning his surroundings, turning his head left and right to check if anyone else was there besides him.
"Hello? Is anyone here?" he shouted.
Unfortunately, no matter how loud he yelled, no one answered. Worse, the strange world seemed to suppress his voice. When he shouted, all he could hear was his own echo bouncing back at him.
"O-Okay… I'm starting to get scared now. What the hell? Why am I here?!" he muttered, panic creeping through his body. His ears felt hot, his body began to tremble, and his voice shook. Desperate to calm himself, he paced back and forth, clutching his head.
"This is just a dream. This is just a dream. Please, someone, get me out of here."
Of course, it was just a dream—but Jung Proto didn't know that yet. Everything he said was nothing more than fragmented thoughts meant to soothe his terrified mind.
Then, he remembered what happened before he fell asleep. He remembered not caring whether the world exploded or faced some apocalyptic scenario. And then, a terrifying thought crossed his mind.
"Am I dead?! Did the world actually end?! God really exists?! I swear I'll repent, God!!"
He immediately dropped to his knees, hands clasped as if praying, desperately hoping for forgiveness. In his mind, this place had become his "personal hell," where everything looked the same—endless and boring.
This went on for hours.
Now, I enjoy my job as a narrator, but I'm not going to waste your time—or mine—watching a whiny protagonist cry for hours on end. We understand what he's going through. His reaction makes sense. But this is a story, so let's move on to something more meaningful.
A few hours later.
Jung Proto stood up and realized that no one had heard his prayers. His expression shifted abruptly from tearful to calm, as if nothing had happened. "…Okay. That was awkward."
Such a sudden change wasn't unusual for Jung Proto. He had the personality of a loser, someone who only bowed when it benefited him. Like earlier, kneeling and begging a "God"—many people do this, and honestly, I don't blame them. The existence of "God" isn't exactly settled in social discourse—he didn't even believe in, despite previously claiming the world was purely scientific. Perhaps this was also one of the reasons his beautiful girlfriend left him, but that's not my place to badmouth our protagonist.
"If this isn't a dream, and I really am not dead… then what is this place?" he asked, observing his surroundings again.
"Maybe I should add a population sign here? Haha," he joked, mimicking a camera pose with his hands.
Instantly, a population sign appeared—just like the ones you'd see in cities. But the writing was in a dead language, and the population count wasn't one, nor zero. Instead, it constantly shifted between random numbers, as if the sign itself didn't know the exact population of this strange world.
"Wait… huh?! How did that appear?" he said, frowning.
"I didn't make that happen, did I?!"
"This… this shouldn't be possible," he muttered.
"Unless… this really is a dream?"
Knowing he wasn't dead was already a relief—ignoring the mess that was his real life—but realizing he was inside a dream he could fully control nearly made him explode.
He literally exploded.
BOOM. A large impact suddenly surround Jung Proto's body and consumed him to death.
"The fuck?! Just thinking about exploding actually made it happen?!" as if not already knowing this is a dreamscape which derives from the idea where anything can happen, but he snapped.
"Okay. Mental note—be careful."
But that raised another question.
"If I die here and just come back to life… how do I get out of this place?"
A perfectly reasonable question. He was alone in a world with no one else and no obvious exit. Confused, he scratched his head, overwhelmed by the weight of not knowing the answer.
As if the world itself responded, a light suddenly appeared in the distance.
This was a breakthrough. Maybe this light was his only answer—his only clue to understanding this world and escaping it. He ran toward it, then suddenly stopped.
"What am I doing?" he said.
Remembering his newfound power, he wished for teleportation—and instantly arrived at the source of the light. Looking around the source of the light, he notice something, "Wait a minute," he said, "Is that...?" But by then it's already too late.
Jung Proto froze.
He hadn't expected this.
Because it wasn't light.
It was an angel—
in its most natural form.
One eye.
Countless wings.
Even its feathers were wings, endlessly layered upon themselves.
"Do not be afraid, dear Man."