"Park Seonim! I specifically warned you to remove that line from the report!"
The bundle of documents the team leader hurled scattered through the air.
One sheet fluttered down to land at my feet. I didn't even need to bend over to spot the offending phrase.
It was the very last line of the report, the one I'd stubbornly insisted on keeping.
[NX-7 Graphene Composite: (excerpt) ... No issues for commercial use, but further research is needed on potential risks from long-term exposure.]
A vein bulged in the team leader's neck. He exploded in rage once more.
"This is why we've been put on hold again in the final K-REACH review! You get that?"
I stared blankly at the scattered papers before opening my mouth. My voice came out calmer than I'd expected.
"But sir, NX-7 still needs more safety studies."
"Short-term stability is already confirmed! You want to hold up a multibillion-won project for years over some unproven 'potential risk'?"
"..."
The team leader wasn't entirely wrong. From a short-term perspective, the NX-7 material showed near-perfect results.
It was just that none of us researchers—including me—could guarantee its effects on the human body after prolonged, steady exposure.
But to the higher-ups, such uncertain future risks apparently weren't worth considering.
"You run the company single-handedly? Is your precious researcher conscience more important than hitting project deadlines? If you're gonna work like that, just quit! There are plenty of PhDs lining up to take your spot!"
The moment I heard those words, something snapped in my head.
The papers strewn at my feet, the contemptuous insults, the cold fluorescent lights. Everything felt distant, like a slow-motion scene.
I quietly set the report I'd been holding down on the desk.
Thud.
"Yes, I'll quit."
"What?"
"This place sucks, so I'm out."
And just like that, I submitted my resignation.
It was an impulsive decision, but I had no regrets.
I was sick of it all. The endless overtime, the suffocating performance pressure, the blood-draining office politics.
What good was the title of big-corp researcher? It was a slave's life with no time to even spend the paycheck properly.
'What now?'
An old dream surfaced in my empty mind. One I'd tucked away in a corner of my heart for far too long.
It had faded so much from neglect that its shape felt sharper than ever.
"Maybe I should go traveling the world."
Just as I'd tossed in my resignation in a fit of anger, the trip was impulsive too. I headed straight to the airport and booked the next flight to Europe.
No set destination, no plans. For the first time, I wanted to break free from the scripted path.
For months, I'd wander wherever my feet or heart took me.
The Eiffel Tower in Paris, the Vienna State Opera, the Colosseum in Rome. I saw countless famous sights I'd only heard of.
Then Prague's famous astronomical clock crossed my mind. That sealed my next stop.
I hopped on the next train to the Czech Republic.
Clackety-clack, clackety-clack.
I gazed blankly out the window, letting the rhythmic vibrations lull me. Endless green plains rolled by.
That's when it caught my eye—pinned to a distant hilltop.
A Gothic castle towering skyward against a backdrop of deep blue forest.
"Whoa."
An exclamation slipped out unbidden.
It looked centuries old, traces of history etched deep. How had it endured the ravages of time so steadfastly?
Majestic. Awe-inspiring. Compared to it, Seoul's apartments crumbling after mere decades seemed pathetic.
A grandeur impossible in a world that tears down the old to pile up the new.
When I'd first chosen a career in engineering, I'd dreamed of creating something like that castle—something to endure in history.
Great discoveries, immortal achievements. I'd harbored such romantic aspirations once...
'Reality was different, of course.'
The announcement came: next station stop. I bolted from my seat without hesitation.
An impulsive schedule change. Not part of the plan, but that's what made it better. Wasn't that the charm of backpacking?
But what greeted me was a firmly shut iron gate and a sign with cold lettering.
[Chesky Sternberg Castle]
Open: 10 AM
Closed: 5 PM
Closed: Weekends and holidays
"Damn, it's closed."
A hollow laugh escaped me. The sun was still high. Europe ended everything too early.
No choice. I'd stay overnight and tour tomorrow.
I booked a nearby Airbnb, unpacked, and wandered the village. By evening, hunger hit, so I pulled up a map and headed to a small pub.
Ding-a-ling.
The place buzzed more with locals than tourists.
As I stepped in, nearly every eye turned my way. An Asian traveler was a rare sight in this tiny village.
I ignored it and grabbed a seat anywhere. With halting Czech, I ordered goulash, bread, and a Kozel Dark.
The food arrived soon. Steam rose from the goulash, assaulting my nose; beads of condensation dotted the cool dark beer glass.
I took a big swig. The bittersweet, malty brew slid down my throat. I couldn't help but groan in satisfaction.
"Ahh!"
The travel fatigue melted away like snow.
Right then, a rich Czech accent came from beside me.
"Heh heh, you're really digging in there, stranger."
I turned to see a portly middle-aged man chuckling heartily, beer mug in hand.
"Thanks. The beer here's amazing."
My clumsy Czech reply brought a pleased look to his face.
"Oh, you speak Czech?"
"Picked it up while traveling. Enough for short chats."
"I see. Name's Zdenek."
"Park Kang-jun."
We shook hands briefly.
I wondered if I'd have to keep stumbling through Czech, but luckily, Zdenek switched to fluent English.
"So, what brings you to this backwater village? Tourists rarely come here."
"On my way to Prague, saw that castle from the train window. It was so cool, I just got off."
"Ah, Sternberg Castle! Our village pride! Haha, truth be told, there's nothing else to see."
Zdenek laughed good-naturedly, then leaned in with a mischievous grin, lowering his voice.
"Brace yourself."
"Huh?"
"Truth is, I'm the owner of that castle."
My eyes went wide.
Zdenek burst into laughter at my reaction and pulled a business card from his pocket.
It read 'Zdenek von Sternberg,' with the castle administrator title below.
"Incredible. Never thought I'd meet a castle lord in my life."
"Heh heh, what lord? We barely scrape by as a tourist spot now. But our family was something once. Eight hundred years of history."
Eight hundred years. Longer than Korea's Joseon Dynasty. For someone like me who could barely recall my great-grandfather's name, it was unimaginable.
"Impressive lineage. Eight centuries."
"Know the Sarajevo incident? Sparked World War I. The archduke assassinated there lived in Konopiste Castle—once ours."
"Oh..."
He sipped his beer and continued, a faint pride in his voice.
"Every Czech knew the Sternberg name back then. Ever heard that this little country was once Europe's heart?"
"First time. Really?"
"Oh yes! In the 14th century, the Holy Roman Emperor was one of ours—a Czech. Great Charles IV! Prague was the empire's capital, and we Sternbergs were his most trusted house!"
Zdenek's eyes gleamed with distant pride, as if he'd witnessed it himself.
The stories flowed endlessly with the beer.
Bohemia's rise and fall, Prague's golden age, the Sternbergs at its center.
I dipped goulash with bread and listened quietly. Nothing better to do, and it was surprisingly captivating.
After a long rant, Zdenek sighed deeply.
"Haa..."
"Something wrong?"
"Just regretful. Our family—our homeland—had its shining moment. Early 15th century, the most turbulent era in Czech history. If only the Luxembourg line hadn't died out..."
His words trailed wistfully.
"We Czechs might have stood tall at Europe's center, not cowering between powers. If our ancestors had chosen differently back then..."
His voice grew bitter, gaze lost in regretful space.
The mood turned awkward. Unsure where to look, I scanned the pub.
My eyes lingered on an old painting on the wall.
A knight with sword drawn, guardian angel blowing a horn.
"Heh heh, I got all sentimental like an old fool. Hope I didn't waste your time with boring old tales."
"Not at all. Great stories. Made the beer taste better."
I smoothly changed the subject.
"By the way, Zdenek, know what that painting's about?"
"Ah, that one?"
Zdenek glanced at it.
"Old Czech legend. When the nation's in peril, the guardian angel's horn sounds, and St. Wenceslas rises from Mount Blanik with a steel army to save it. Wild fantasy."
He shrugged with a chuckle.
"Never happened, of course."
To him, it seemed like a mere fairy tale for kids.
"Thanks for listening. You're a fine young man."
"Pleasure meeting you, Zdenek."
Declaring it his most enjoyable chat in ages, Zdenek paid even my tab and left the pub.
'What a quirky encounter.'
I headed back to my lodging. As I entered the room, tension eased, and fatigue mixed with buzz hit all at once.
I collapsed onto the bed, eyelids growing heavy as consciousness faded.
Just before plunging into full darkness.
Bwooooom—
A long, majestic horn echoed faintly from somewhere.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
I slowly opened my eyes amid hazy awareness.
The faint morning sunlight filtering through my eyelids felt the same as yesterday.
But that was it. Everything around me was alien.
The blanket over me wasn't soft polyester but coarse linen. The bed creaked at the slightest shift.
The smells were worse. Damp earth, acrid remnants of burned wood, faint manure from livestock.
"Not a dream."
A wry mutter slipped out.
Two days awake in this bizarre—or horrifically archaic—world.
Time to accept it. This wasn't the 21st century, and I wasn't Park Kang-jun anymore.
My head spun. I reviewed what I'd pieced together yesterday.
'One: It's December 1420, Bohemia—the old name for Czech lands.'
'Two: I'm Ulrich von Sternberg, sole heir to Chesky Sternberg Castle and the family.'
'Three: The original Ulrich lost consciousness in a fall days ago.'
'But the one who woke up is me, Park Kang-jun from the 21st century...'
Unbelievable. I'd just impulsively gotten off a train drawn by a scenic castle, and now I was its ancestral lord.
At first, I thought it was a dream—a vivid nightmare. But a night passed, and nothing changed.
I climbed down from the creaking bed and approached the blurry bronze mirror on the wall.
Sharp features, keen eyes. A pale young noble stared back. No trace of the weary researcher Park Kang-jun.
'...At least the face is handsome.'
Such a trivial thought amid the chaos. Better than ugly, anyway.
Anyway, I turned from the mirror to the window. Beyond the thick, uneven glass stretched a medieval vista.
Servants bustled in the courtyard. Dull hammer blows rang rhythmically from the distant smithy. Armored soldiers patrolled the walls with spears.
No asphalt, power lines, car horns. No signs of the civilization I knew.
I let out a long sigh.
'Accept it. I'm Ulrich now, not Park Kang-jun.'
Denial wouldn't change facts. I had to embrace this and find a way to survive.
The silver lining: I wasn't a serf at the bottom. As a lord's son, no starving or wallowing in filth anytime soon.
...Maybe even a blessing in disguise.
No electricity, internet, smartphones—but that meant total escape from the cutthroat rat race.
Maid brings breakfast each morning. Stroll the lands or hunt on horseback by day. Evenings by the fireplace with wine, leisure incarnate.
The retirement life of my dreams.
Yes. Drop everything and just enjoy this new existence.
I began reclaiming a sliver of peace in this absurd situation, envisioning a rosy future.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"This is noble life?"
Such sweet delusions shattered after just one day.
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