Breaking Boundaries in Literature: The Nobel Prize and Korea's Untold Stories

Chapter 3.1 Overlapping Universes: One Event from Diverse Perspectives

I lay on the cool earthen ground, barely managing to open my eyes after a few breaths. My head throbbed, and as I came to my senses in an unfamiliar street, I noticed the eerie stillness around me, interrupted only by the fluttering of red flags in the wind. Where on earth am I?

From somewhere nearby, I heard someone calling my name, drawing closer.

"Supreme Leader! Supreme Leader! Are you alright?"

In my hazy vision, the figure approaching me became clearer. A few men, appearing to be my aides, rushed over and helped me to my feet. They were dressed in military uniforms—sharp black jackets adorned with rank insignias and golden stars gleaming on their hats. Holding me upright, one grasped my arm firmly while the other stood protectively behind me.

"Who... are you?"

"Supreme Leader, you've been overworking yourself lately," one of them said, brushing the dust off me with a concerned tone. The leader among them, clad in a more refined uniform than the others, frequently referred to me as "Supreme Leader" with a worried expression. His blue uniform, stretching over his upper body, signaled his high rank, with two golden stars on his shoulders and a military cap made from smoother fabric than those of my aides.

"You say I'm the Supreme Leader? What are you talking about? Where am I?"

"Excuse me? You're in South Korea... in Seoul..." one of the aides replied, his voice trembling.

He immediately commanded his subordinates.

"Supreme Leader, please get into the vehicle! Your health is not good. We must take you back at once!"

The aides supported me with even more care as they hurried me into the vehicle. The cold air pouring through the window made my mind feel a little clearer.

"But why am I the Supreme Leader, and what are all these red flags...?" I struggled to discern if my situation was a dream or reality.

"Supreme Leader, have you perhaps lost your memory for a moment? You don't seem well. Driver! We need to get to the Politburo quickly!"

Ah... I must be undergoing that experiment... Is my real body dead? Am I alive? No, that can't be. If I die, Choi Min will lose his life too.

My body jolted violently, caught between reality and illusion. The vehicle cut through the wind at increasing speed, and I gazed out the window. As unfamiliar landscapes rushed by, a feeling crept up inside me.

"Wait! Over there...!" As the car came to a stop, I opened the door and stepped out.

"Are you... President Lee Seung-won?"

I found myself on a narrow street lined with a bedding store and a clothing shop. A man sorting items in front of his shop recognized me and approached with wide eyes.

"Supreme Leader! What brings you to this humble place?" His voice held a mix of surprise and reverence.

"Mr. President, what are you doing here?" I asked him.

"Me, the president? Such a term is used only in North Korea..." He tilted his head, offering to bring out his car.

Just then, one of my aides approached me. "Supreme Leader, you fainted earlier. We're quite worried. Is there a reason you wanted to stop here? Something with the shopkeeper?"

"No... This man is the first president of the Republic of Korea. What's the date today?"

The aide bowed his head and replied, "It's June 24, 1950, Supreme Leader."

His answer plunged me deeper into confusion. 1950? So, this is Seoul, a socialist state, and war is going to break out tomorrow? A whirlwind of questions spiraled in my mind.

At that moment, I looked at the shopkeeper. His expression bore a sadness tinged with nostalgia. It was a feeling both familiar and foreign to me.

"Mr. President..." I said cautiously. "What happened here?"

He poured me a cup of barley tea. "Why do you keep calling me president..." "If you're not feeling well, why not take a moment to rest?"

"No, Mr. President. I must go quickly. War is about to break out tomorrow. You should evacuate to Busan immediately. I need to get back and assess the situation," I replied firmly, climbing back into the vehicle.

The engine roared to life amidst a cloud of black smoke and harsh sounds as we entered a narrow street. The buildings lining the road were mostly low, with a few barely exceeding three stories. Between them, the dark, uneven bricks and crooked window frames created an eerie ambiance. The crowd moved with a practiced familiarity, each individual accustomed to the rhythm of collective action, while self-employed workers toiled through another grueling day.

As we arrived at the central headquarters, the building loomed before us, an overwhelming symbol of power. Dominated by cold grays and blacks, its excessive size and weight were oppressive. Banners flanked the entrance, emblazoned with my face and bold letters proclaiming, "Long Live Supreme Leader Choi Jun!" Stepping inside, I was met with the clatter of military boots mingling with awkward Korean phrases, as secretaries stationed at the grand palace-like entrance opened the doors for me.

I quickly took my seat and called out, "Chief of Staff! Where are you?" I turned my head, scanning the room. He stood before me, dressed sharply like any soldier, adorned with a cap bearing the party emblem. "What's the current status of our military forces? Who are our allies, and what are our relations with the Soviet Union, China, and the United States? Also, who leads North Korea now?"

The Chief of Staff looked at me intently, nodding his head. "Supreme Leader, that's quite the title. I am the General Secretary, just so you know. Anyway, the Soviet Union, China, and the United States? Those are impoverished nations; why would we concern ourselves with them? As you know, our allies are in South America. And regarding military strength..." He hesitated before continuing, leaving me overwhelmed with vague information.

"South America?!" I exclaimed.

"Yes, indeed. North Korea's allies include countries from Africa—like Jiraf and Korya... Why ask such questions when you already know?" He seemed increasingly anxious. "I apologize, Supreme Leader. Have we done something wrong?"

NOTE:

"Giraffe Union" and "South American Confederation": These fictional names serve to create an alternative history, highlighting different alliances and geopolitical dynamics that differ from real-world nations.