The Empire I Create Chapter 9

Chapter 9. The Door Opens, and a New Sea

A thunderous noise rumbled through the freight elevator leading underground, and the doors slowly slid shut. Sitting in the driver’s seat of his truck, Hamin felt on edge—the roar of the machinery overwhelmed even the truck’s engine. Glancing past his shoulder at the concrete walls, he noticed the large “Silent Gateway” signs scattered here and there. Deep beneath the surface, this secret underground space was about to become humanity’s most dubious yet most groundbreaking stage for experimentation.

Earlier that morning, after meeting Michael Kim, Hamin had arrived at the facility’s main gate. From the outside, it resembled any other military installation, though the security was extraordinarily tight. Even so, Hamin was allowed in with surprising ease.

“You really do have a way with people, Michael,”
Hamin said, leaning out the truck’s window to speak to Michael Kim, who was smiling broadly.
“How did you manage it? Soldiers, security, even what looked like big-tech personnel—they hardly batted an eye.”

Michael gave a casual shrug.

“People cooperate if they share the same goal. All they want is data—the chance to prove a live spacetime transfer works. But it’s too dangerous to use a human test subject, so I told them: I’ll take full responsibility.”

Hamin kept smiling, though inwardly he felt a little uneasy.
“If their goals are aligned for now, they’ll play nice. But what happens once the experiment succeeds? What will they do next?”

Michael seemed to sense his thoughts.

“You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”
“No. At this point, there’s no turning back.”
“Good. Then let’s keep moving. They won’t give us any trouble now.”

As if on cue, the soldiers at the entrance briefly checked Hamin’s driver’s license and ID before waving the truck through. They seemed to know he was here for some major experiment, yet showed no sign of suspicion.

“Looks like they got word from the top,”
Hamin muttered, cutting the engine.
“Our goals line up, so they have no reason to stop me.”

Behind that gate, the interior of the Silent Gateway facility was even larger than he’d imagined. Surrounded by thick concrete and steel walls, a huge cargo elevator stood at the center. As flashing warning lights illuminated the platform, Hamin’s truck rolled onto it. Soldiers exchanged a few quick words over the radio, then signaled for him to descend deeper.

“Who would’ve guessed there was something like this under Jeju…?”
Hamin gazed up at the high ceiling through the truck’s windshield.
“This is more than just a military bunker—an aircraft carrier could probably fit in here.”

When the elevator began moving, its heavy doors closed slowly, and Hamin felt a strange, oppressive sensation, as if they were being swallowed into a dark underground world. Sitting quietly in the passenger seat, Hyung-jun (the male-type Optimus) stood up to survey the area. Mi-ji (the female-type Optimus) scanned the surroundings with her sensors. The remaining ten Optimus units, waiting in the truck’s cargo bay, were in sleep mode to conserve power.

For about two minutes the platform vibrated. Finally, the display showed “B7,” and the thick steel doors slid open. Almost immediately, Hamin spotted “Radiation Hazard” signs and equipment intended to guard against biochemical attacks.

“It’s exactly what you’d expect from a top-secret military/big-tech research base,”
Hamin murmured, biting his lip as he slowly drove along a long corridor.

At the far end of that passage, a familiar face appeared: Dr. Lee Jin-young. Hamin was about to climb down from his truck when she briskly approached him.

“So it’s come to this after all, Hamin.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I was worried you might change your mind.”

She pulled out a file and a tablet, flipping through them.

“Drive straight ahead to the lab door. When it opens, move your entire truck inside. We’ve already loaded the satellite and rocket components. We’ll make the jump all at once.”

Hamin rubbed the back of his neck.

“I still can’t believe this is real. Is it actually going to work…?”

Dr. Lee gave a faint smile.

“There’s a chance it’ll fail. But once those doors close and the Silent Gateway activates… let’s just hope fortune is on our side.”

Following her instructions, Hamin drove the truck into the lab. It looked like a simple rectangular metal chamber at first glance, but along the walls, strange energy circuits and coils gleamed with a faint glow.

Off to one side, a small satellite and its corresponding rocket lay disassembled, fastened down with cables. Its fuel tanks, control modules, and propulsion engines were neatly organized, each marked with a big-tech logo. Hamin studied the satellite’s intricate antennas and sensors, half to himself:

“I wonder if we’ll actually get to use that…”

If traveling back in time truly worked, the impact on the modern world (the year 2030) would be enormous. Yet a complete break in spacetime might mean that whatever happened in the past couldn’t be confirmed right away in the present. That satellite was their only bridge.

At that moment, Dr. Lee leaned against the truck’s window, holding out a small USB-like device.

“Download this immediately. It has everything you need—how to ‘unlock’ the lab doors after we separate from here, plus the satellite launch manual. Once the Gateway activates, you won’t be able to communicate with us, so you’ll need these files.”

Hamin took the device, quickly plugging it into his laptop and decrypting the sealed digital documents.

---

Lab Door Manual: After the transfer completes, you must enter a specific code to open the door safely.

Potential “Time Discrepancy” Issues: The timeline could become desynchronized, or parts of space might warp.

---

“Wow… This is no joke,”
Hamin muttered as he scrolled through pages of details.
“It’s all so real now.”

From the entrance of the lab, Michael Kim watched him with those sharp eyes.

“As you can see, once we seal this lab, that’s it. There’s no going back.”

Hamin paused, breathing deeply. What if he said “No, I can’t do it” right now? The military or big-tech sponsors might simply quarantine him or scrap the whole plan and look for another volunteer. But that seemed unlikely at this stage.

“…I’m ready,”
he said at last.
“All right. Good.”

Michael traded a look with Dr. Lee. Over the intercom, someone’s voice crackled:

“Main control room here. Silent Gateway is ready. We can power up on your signal.”

“We’re starting,”
Dr. Lee’s voice echoed over the lab speakers. The room lights dimmed, and a bluish electrical current arced across segments of the walls.

From outside came a high-pitched electronic hum, followed by the mechanical roar of the Gateway’s core spinning up. The vibrations penetrated the thick concrete and rattled the truck’s floor.

“Hamin, close the lab door,”
the speaker announced once more.

Climbing down from the truck, Hamin gripped the massive lever on the lab door and pulled with all his might. With a resounding thud, the metal gate slowly swung shut along its hinge. In an instant, the last ray of outside light vanished, and total darkness washed over them.

“Hyung-jun, Mi-ji—are your sensors active?”
“Yes, sir. Heat signatures all normal.” (Hyung-jun)
“Electrical surges are strong. It must be nearing maximum transmission power.” (Mi-ji)

Suddenly, a piercing wave of sound filled the lab. The truck began shaking violently, as though an earthquake had struck, and objects rattled in the cargo area. A screeching feedback swept through, then morphed into a deeper, thunder-like rumble.

“Ugh…!”
Hamin braced himself as the other ten Optimus units snapped to attention, reacting to the shock by shifting into “protection mode.”

All the while, Hamin felt dizzy, as if buffeted by an intense electromagnetic surge. Dozens of error messages flashed on Thanos’s digital interface before disappearing again.

He couldn’t tell if those few seconds had been mere instants or a full minute. Then the quake-like turbulence abruptly stopped, replaced by an eerie hush. Anyone would be left wondering: Was it a success or a failure?

The lab remained dark, flickering in and out of emergency lighting. Hamin, drenched in cold sweat, called out to Mi-ji:

“Mi-ji, how long has it been?”
“By our system clock, about five minutes.”

Five minutes… The Silent Gateway had activated, but there were no clear alarms or status updates. Had they truly arrived in the past, or were they still in the underground facility in 2030?

Panting, Hamin checked his tablet screen. No more errors—everything showed “stabilized.”

Then came a total silence. No hum of machinery, no voices, no radiation alarm, no elevator droning, not even a ventilation unit. Nothing.

“This is strange. The machines were running full-throttle just a moment ago,”
Hamin muttered, scratching his head.
“Could the lab’s walls really block all sound so perfectly?”

“No significant noise or radio waves are detected through the external walls. Internal air pressure is stable, and oxygen levels are fine,”
Mi-ji reported.

“All right…”
Hamin exhaled and moved toward the door’s release lever. He hesitated, unsure if opening it prematurely could be disastrous—but he could wait no longer. The experiment was finished, and he needed to see the outcome.

Opening the lab door turned out to be straightforward. He input the code from Dr. Lee’s file and turned the handle several rotations. With a low groan of metal, the door began sliding open.

When it was about halfway open, the first thing that hit him was the wind—a salty ocean breeze, warm and fresh, unlike the stale airflow of an underground bunker.

“This can’t be real…”
Hamin gasped as he stuck his head through the gap.

Before him stretched a brilliant blue sea, the sun gleaming off the horizon. Far to one side was a coastal cliff he thought he recognized, with bright sunlight flooding the scene. It looked like Jeju—but it wasn’t the Jeju he knew in 2030, where radioactive fallout and ashen skies reigned. The air here was infinitely cleaner, and the sky was a gentle pastel blue.

“Hyung-jun, Mi-ji, do you see any helicopters or military vehicles?”
“Scanning… no aircraft detected. We’re picking up minimal high-frequency signals,”
Hyung-jun responded, as if confirming they were in a place where modern civilization’s noise was absent.

Legs trembling, Hamin carefully stepped out. The sun’s warmth wrapped around him; the soft sound of waves echoed in his ears. Underfoot, he felt rough earth and rock, and somewhere in the distance, seagulls cried.

“So… we really did it?”
He whispered in disbelief. Hyung-jun and Mi-ji emerged behind him, while the other ten Optimus units stepped out from the lab’s threshold, their metal feet kicking up dust and sand.

The surroundings were unrecognizable in modern terms: no bunkers, no advanced machinery—just a rugged coastline, an endless sweep of blue water, and a radiant sky.

“That sunlight… this air… nothing like the year 2030.”

Hamin’s heart pounded wildly. He wondered if this was truly 13th-century Jeju—but he couldn’t be certain yet. Simply breathing in this fresh, untainted air was already overwhelming.

The truck remained inside the lab, and Hamin paused to take in the sea, trying to piece together his swirling thoughts. Had he made the right choice, or was this a reckless gamble? He had no idea what lay ahead, but at this moment, he felt an indescribable sense of release.

Either way, there was no going back. And now, Hamin stood alone before the vast sea of “Jeju’s past.”