Kim had been wandering Russia for nine years since escaping from here, and was making his return to a place he didn't even want to remember for a a second. "No pain, no gain," said Kim in a decisive voice.

On Oct. 24, 2007, the news team met him in Moscow for the first time in a Korean's house. Even before offering a greeting, he extended his bare arm to show off his tattoos of the Korean peninsula and the phrase "National Unification" in Korean. "My mother country," he said. "I am leaving Russia shortly, although I am headed neither north nor south."

Why is he abandoning both Koreas, and talking about his homeland? "If I have to live as the victim of prejudice, I would rather take it from other people rather than my own."

Kim arrived here in Russia in May 1993. His life as a logger was tough and miserable. "I was involved in an accident where four people were run over by a trolley. I was the only survivor of the accident. We could not find some of the victims' arms and legs." Then Kim did everything he could to save money. He even sneaked out into Russian villages and sold stuff.

In July 1998, he went to the camp office with US$3,000 worth of vouchers, but could not get a single dollar in exchange for his vouchers. It was then he realized that it was a fraud and that he was totally deceived for five whole years. And in January 1999, he got away from the camp.

On Nov. 3, 2007, the team boarded a train in Moscow with Kim and got off at Skovorodino Station, an entry port to Siberia. A taxi ride took us to Tynda, where the headquarters of North Korea's forestry association is located. It was 35 degree Celsius below zero. We carefully selected frozen paths to avoid check points. "The police check every bit of your belongings," we were told.

Kim became jittery. We progressed into Tynda and decided to search for loggers who had escaped from the camp. An Asian face was seen among a group of white Russians. We swiftly exited the taxi and asked the Asian man, "Are you involved in timber production? Don't you need some money?"

The man took out his driver's license, issued by the 19th camp of the North Korean forestry association, without a word. Passports are kept by the communist party, leaving driver's licenses as the only form of identification for loggers. The license was traded at 500 rubles (approximately US$23). This man had the same reason to escape from the camp with Kim. "The camp did not pay us. And it's not the same as it used to be. There were hundreds of trucks before. But now only a dozen of them remain. We all came here to make money, but now we have nowhere to go." The man in his 40s burst into tears and got off the car.

Murtkit is situated over 2,000 m above sea level. A Russian taxi was climbing its mountain path. Endless rows of snow-covered mountains and white birch trees finally led us to our destination at around sunset. In front of us were familiar propaganda banners saying "Glory to North Korean Workers' Party!" "Protect the leaders of the revolution headed by our Dear Leader Kim Jong-il with our lives!" and "Let's build another heavenly land of Democratic People's Republic of Korea in Siberia." Kim hurried us. "Take pictures fast, guys! Or we could get caught any moment!"

Slogans on the entrance to the 16th timber camp, an autonomous North Korean district in Siberia

We drove to the camp, taking around 20 minutes to tour the entire site at high speed. The camp expanded around Kim Il Sung Mansu Tower, gigantic logs piled up at one side, rows of quarters on the other side. The loggers' quarters are attached to cars to move around different locations. We approached with our headlights up. A large portrait of Kim Jong-il was hanging on a frozen roof. Numerous slogans filled the space below in red, such as "Make it happen till we die!" and "Loyalty to the central committee!"

The interior of a quarter of North Korean loggers. Portraits of Kim Il-sung and Jong-Il are displayed overhead.

A few loggers were glaring into our cab. We sneaked into a quarter, which happened to be for managers, with the Russian cab driver when the guard had just stepped out. Kim stayed in the cab. Five macho managers were watching North Korean Central TV in the quarter. Portraits of Kim Il-sung and Jong-il loomed overhead. Pretending to be camera merchants, we showed them cameras to take a look at, but they began casting suspicious looks at us and called us, "Hey, comrades…!"

It was a moment of crisis. We turned back and started running to the cab. Kim flung open the door, his eyes wide with surprise. Many loggers were still passing by, with the driver stepping full on the gas. "You must be crazy!" Kim yelled at us. That night, Kim took out a small piece of paper out of his pocket on which the prayer "God, protect us and keep us from trial and evil. Thank you" was written. The wrinkled paper was stained in sweat. He said, "I was so scared at the camp that I was holding this prayer tight."

The next day, we boarded a train to Habarovks at Skovorodino. Kim waved to us in tears. In Habarovks, we flew back to Korea.

On Feb. 12, 2008, good news came from Kim. His wife, previously thought dead, had actually escaped to China. "I could not believe it at first. I could not even recognize her voice after 15 years apart."

Kim was elated by the call from his long-lost wife. However, his happiness was brief. Over the phone, his wife rejected the idea of another escape. "This unbearable pain!" she told him. "How could I not miss you? But what should I do with our child?"

He could not hold back his anger, raging that "she must be seeing another guy!" He called her again the next day for the last time. "Why did you change your mind?" he asked. "You promised to escape." He could not talk her out of it. The wife requested money for the child instead of coming to meet him.

On Feb. 18, we met him again on our way back to Seoul from Moscow. He held our hands and said, "Let's meet again in a freer world and in a better shape." The guy in his forties again wiped his tears away.