Chapter 69

69

* * * *

A clear sky.

Bongeunsa, a thousand-year-old temple nestled in the heart of a city with a 1,200-year history.

Hoejeong, the youngest disciple of Daehoe, the head monk, crossed the courtyard of Bongeunsa quickly, wearing only a gray robe.

As Hoejeong, with his arms slightly spread, passed by, the monks in Bongeunsa bowed their heads slightly. Hoejeong moved forward, his head almost touching the ground like a woodpecker.

How long had he been tilting his head this way and that? When he spotted a monk wearing a brownish kasaya over his robe in the distance, Hoejeong's lips curled into a wide smile.

"Venerable monk!"

Hoejeong patted his bald head with his palms and hopped up the stone steps two at a time.

"Venerable monk! Venerable monk!"

The monk, who had been watching the drizzle of rain, turned his body. His face, with wrinkles that remained from a smile like a Hahoe mask, was revealed.

He was Beopkyeong, the head monk of the thousand-year-old temple, Bongeunsa.

"Head monk!"

"Junior monk (disciple of the head monk's disciple). What brings you here with such enthusiasm?"

"How can I be a junior monk? Our master has many disciples!"

"Is that so?"

Beopkyeong's eyes narrowed as if he couldn't help but be amused, noticing that the shoulder of Hoejeong's gray robe was wet from the rain. Beopkyeong took out a handkerchief dyed with hibiscus from his sleeve and pressed it firmly on Hoejeong's shoulder to absorb the moisture.

"Head monk, what were you looking at?"

"I was looking at the courtyard. I was recalling the celebration ceremony that took place two months ago."

"Oh!"

The celebration ceremony.

Two months ago referred to the Buddha's birthday.

Hoejeong smiled brightly, recalling that time. Beopkyeong nodded at his beaming smile.

"Your procession was very impressive, Venerable Hoejeong."

"Wasn't it?"

Hoejeong nodded vigorously, agreeing with himself. Water droplets glistened on his small, round head. Beopkyeong's handkerchief then moved to Hoejeong's head.

"So, why are you looking for me, Venerable Hoejeong?"

"Ah! Our master! He said he wanted to see you to explain about the upcoming World Buddhist Academic Conference. So, I've been looking for you around Bongeunsa!"

Did I do well?

Hoejeong tilted his round head from side to side, looking at Beopkyeong. His eloquence was surprising for someone who hadn't yet turned seven.

Beopkyeong, looking at the precocious Hoejeong with a fond smile, put the handkerchief back into his sleeve.

"Since the senior monk is looking for me, I should go see him."

"Our master said it was about some Buddha statue issue. He mentioned that the Chinghua High School Buddha Statue Production Club, which was selected to create the promotional Buddha statue, has entrusted the task to a student named Gang Seok. He wants to know if it's okay to proceed like this."

"......I see."

Beopkyeong, with a Hahoe mask-like expression, couldn't hide his disappointment.

Daehoe, who was supposed to be his successor, was indecisive and timid, despite his dharma name. He fumbled with even the smallest tasks as if they were major responsibilities. Beopkyeong, unable to hide his concern, took a step forward.

"By the way, Chinghua High School, that's a nostalgic name."

"Do you have a personal connection with it?"

"Hmm. I once had a master, Wolgok, who was very wise."

Wolgok was the head monk of Bongeunsa a long time ago. Hoejeong nodded, indicating he knew. Beopkyeong, smiling, held his dharma robe like an umbrella over Hoejeong's head.

"My master gave the name 'Chinghua' to that school. It's a place with a small connection to me."

"Oh!"

"Then let's go. The senior monk is waiting."

"Yes! But, Venerable monk."

"What is it?"

"They said they're making a promotional Buddha statue... Will Bongeunsa get it after the conference?"

"Hmm."

Beopkyeong's expression turned troubled for the first time.

Bongeunsa, a historic temple in the heart of Gangnam, was a revered place. It would be a shame to bring in a Buddha statue made by an unknown outsider, especially when the Chinghua High School Buddha Statue Production Club's work was so impressive.

Beopkyeong, gently patting Hoejeong's head, said:

"Since many temples are working hard to host the conference, shouldn't we give other temples a chance as well?"

Moreover, a Buddha statue hastily made for a short period wouldn't fit well in the colorful and ornate Bongeunsa.

Furthermore, as a Buddha statue, it would be proper to offer a price for it to maintain the dignity of a major temple. Most monks wouldn't want to spend money on a Buddha statue made by high school students.

Therefore, the promotional Buddha statue, to be made by an outsider, would likely be sold at a reasonable price to a smaller temple struggling to make ends meet, rather than being brought to Bongeunsa.

"Will another temple get it, then?"

"Most likely."

"Boring!"

Hoejeong pouted.

Still not fully detached from the secular world, Hoejeong felt that bringing the Buddha statue to Bongeunsa would be a victory.

Such strong desire was quite different from Daehoe, who used to cry every day. Despite this, Beopkyeong found it endearing and drew a circle in the air.

To console the pouting Hoejeong, he whispered:

"We don't need to take it, so don't be too disappointed. Bongeunsa already has many beautiful Buddha statues, so we don't need to bring in more."

"Then, Venerable monk."

"Yes, what is it?"

"If, just if, the promotional Buddha statue turns out to be incredibly well-made... What would we do?"

"Incredibly well-made?"

"Yes! If it's so well-made that it would be a shame to give it away?"

An incredibly well-made Buddha statue, hah. Beopkyeong laughed. The greed in his eyes, like a Hahoe mask, was evident. The clear sky, now clouded, revealed Beopkyeong's hidden thoughts, which would disgust the weak-hearted Daehoe.

Beopkyeong, the head monk of Bongeunsa, had a character more suited to a medieval Roman pope than a peaceful modern head monk.

While Hoejeong stared straight ahead,

Beopkyeong quietly murmured:

"Then, we should take it."

No matter the cost.

A yellow light flickered in the gray clouds, signaling the approach of a typhoon.

* * * *

In the mountains near Seoul.

A traditional Korean house stood prominently in a strange landscape shrouded in mist, seemingly disconnected from the city.

Sitting on the veranda, the members of the Buddha Statue Production Club were peeling watermelons, their feet resting on the stone step.

In the middle of the courtyard, now clean of stone debris,

Gang Seok stood.

Gang Seok, sitting in an uncomfortable chair in front of the stone he had chosen, was drinking only grape-flavored carbonated drinks. It had been four days.

And 28 broadcast cameras, mounted on tripods, surrounded Gang Seok and the stone, filming from all angles. It had been four days.

Jeong Young-ho looked down at his phone.

The recent chat was all there was.

The number of live viewers was 34.

Most of them were there to watch Gang Seok's face. He had been sitting there, staring at the stone, for four days. It had also been four days since the live streaming started under the name [Gang Seok] on Naver.

Was it really a good idea to leave it to Gang Seok...? Jeong Young-ho's confidence in following Gang Seok was starting to waver.

When Gang Seok said he would make a stone Buddha, not using the typical granite of Korean Buddha statues but white marble used in China, Jeong Young-ho had thought it was just a quirk.

'Whether it's the Buddha Shakyamuni, Medicine Buddha, Vairocana, Amitabha, Maitreya Bodhisattva, Avalokiteshvara, Manjushri, Samantabhadra, Ksitigarbha, or Mahasthamaprapta, you need to decide something, right?'

It was unreasonable not to decide what kind of Buddha statue to make for four days. Jeong Young-ho pressed the power button on his phone. The screen went dark, and his face reflected in it, then the screen turned on again.

It was already July 25th.

The club members, including Jeong Young-ho, were approaching the time when they needed to go down the mountain for summer vacation classes.

'If we could see something before then, it would be a relief...'

Gang Seok was still sitting there, drinking only carbonated drinks. And it had to be grape-flavored. Jeong Young-ho's eyes, which were wavering, scanned Gang Seok's left hand.

Gang Seok, a left-handed person, had nothing in his hand.

'Today, he should at least do some sketching... Should I turn off the camera and draw something myself? Is there anything I can do to help? Was it too much to suddenly entrust this to him?'

The guilt of being the club leader weighed heavily on his shoulders. Honestly, Jeong Young-ho couldn't complain about Gang Seok. After all, he was the one who had asked Gang Seok to join the club by suggesting he go to the mural club to take in a first-year student. Jeong Young-ho bowed his head.

At that moment,

"How long does he plan to keep doing this?"

"Yeah."

The voices of the club members reached Jeong Young-ho's ears, who had his head bowed. Most of them were thinking the same thing.

"Shouldn't he at least do some sketching?"

"I feel like I've forgotten how to carve Buddha statues..."

"No, that's not it. Why is he just sitting there? He should ask us for help."

"Maybe he's just stiff in front of the camera. And, we're not that close to Gang Seok to ask for help. Don't you know how strong his pride is? He won't ask. We should just give him something now."

"What are you so sure about?"

At that moment,

Yang Seongu, who had been silent, stroked his beard as if he found it unbelievable.

"Have any of you ever seen Gang Seok carve?"

"Huh?"

"What?"

"Have you never seen him?"

"No, no. I've seen him."

They had seen him several times at Chinghua Arts High School.

The members looked at each other and nodded.

Yang Seongu raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Then, shouldn't you know?"

"......What?"

"Why would Gang Seok do a sketch?"

"What?"

"This is strange. You're acting like you don't know."

Yang Seongu stroked his beard. His brows furrowed into a triangle. So, he had never done this before, and only started when he began carving the statue. Yang Seongu sighed.

As he thought, an image came to his mind.

The memory of Gang Seok walking like a bull and swinging a grinder like a sword.

Yang Seongu laughed like a sage. Looking beyond the memory, he saw Gang Seok staring at the square stone as if having a staring contest with a Buddha.

"You'll understand if you just wait and see."

How unconventional a genius Gang Seok was.

Yang Seongu laughed heartily.

The moment Gang Seok moved the grinder he had placed under his chair, the world would have no choice but to pay attention to the genius who had been ignored.

That's how it would be.

.

.

.

Under everyone's watchful eyes,

Gang Seok stared at the white stone.

A white marble with a subtle ratio between a square and a rectangle was huddled, unable to reveal its true form in the gloomy weather.

Four days.

It had been four days.

'Who are you, exactly?'

Gang Seok's eyes narrowed.

To see the soul inside the marble, beyond the white stone imprinted on his retina. The soul was not invisible. He could see it. He could see it very clearly.

The problem was that he could see too much.

Gang Seong closed his eyes, looking tired. Over the four days, the soul inside the white stone had changed its form with every gust of sandstorm.

Even at that moment, the crown of the bodhisattva was changing into various shapes, like a fire burning. Then, the jewelry would be inserted like a mist, and everything would disappear, leaving the shawl of the bodhisattva fluttering like wings.

And just when the form seemed to stabilize, the skirt of the bodhisattva would sway.

Was it Maitreya Bodhisattva, who was promised to achieve enlightenment in the future, or Avalokiteshvara, symbolizing the compassion of the Buddha, or Mahasthamaprapta, who had the power to eliminate the ignorance of all beings, or Samantabhadra, who had the virtue of extending the lifespan of beings, or Manjushri, the bodhisattva of wisdom, or Ksitigarbha, who vowed to save all suffering beings and never become a Buddha?

He couldn't tell.

Gang Seok rubbed his tired eyes a few times and opened them again. His eyes, which had been staring into the sandstorm, were red and bloodshot.

But Gang Seok, who had endured paint falling into his eyes in a past life to draw, found this level of fatigue insignificant.

Gang Seok, determined not to close his eyes until he could see clearly, focused his gaze again. The sandstorm was blowing. Even the sound of insects had stopped, indicating that they had left, tired of the excessive sand.

Sand.

The wind.

Painful eyes.

Gloomy weather.

Sitting under the open sky, it felt cool as if he were in the shade.

Smelling the scent of green, Gang Seok, with his red, bloodshot eyes, took in everything on his retina.

At that moment,

A tiny ray of sunlight pierced through the gray clouds. It was a thin beam of light, like a thread through a needle. When it touched the white stone in a diagonal line, the stone seemed to catch a tiny flame, like a lamp.

At that moment, Gang Seok's pupils dilated.

The brown eyes of Gang Seok, which had been holding the white stone, became hazy.

- "Before you make the Buddha statue, I have a good saying from the Buddha to share with you."

- "Wow!"

- "I'm not interested in Buddhism, teacher!"

- "Okay, okay. Listen. There's a saying called 'Jae-deng-myeong beop-deng-myeong' (自燈明法燈明)."

Jae-deng-myeong beop-deng-myeong.

A phrase he had learned in the Buddha Statue Production Club.

- "You should be your own lamp and rely on yourself. You should also be the lamp of the truth and rely on the truth. Do not rely on anything else."

Following the teacher's lips in his memory, Gang Seok's lips moved.

'You should be your own lamp and rely on yourself. You should also be the lamp of the truth and rely on the truth. Do not rely on anything else.'

It was a silent repetition.

The moment he repeated the words, he understood.

Inside the white stone.

The Buddha trapped in the stone opened its eyes slightly.

Gang Seok felt as if he was meeting those eyes.

It's you.

It was you.

Gang Seok stood up from his chair. The grinder he had placed under the chair was now in his hand. The stone, holding the flame, was calling to Gang Seok. Drawn to those eyes, Gang Seok approached.

"Ah!"

"He's moving?"

"Oh! Finally!"

The members, who had been waiting, stood up as Gang Seok finally moved.

Regardless, Gang Seok walked slowly toward the stone. With the eyes of a seeker, as if to save the beings trapped in the stone, Gang Seok moved the grinder.

His eyes were faintly glowing with madness.

Whirr!

The grinder, powered on, touched the white stone.

Sparks flew, and white stones fell like shattered glass.

* * * *

A week after Gang Seok's grinder spat fire at the white stone.

Ten days after he started live streaming.

The moment the number of live viewers approached 20,000.

The world began to pay attention to Gang Seok.

It was a month before the World Buddhist Academic Conference.

70. The Crossroads of Eastern and Western Civilizations, Gandhara