The safe zone was filled with metal and stones.
Statues made of iron.
Statues carved from stone.
From the stone statue of Ksitigarbha to the massive iron cross.
It seemed less like a place related to the military and more like one affiliated with religion. It looked like a Pantheon (Πανθεονας), as if deities from both the East and West had been gathered into one place.
However, with just a little observation, it was clear that this space had been prepared not for faith, but for survival.
The ominous iron objects scattered throughout spoke in cold tones, declaring that weapons were needed here and that something had to be faced using those very weapons. Individuals, carefully selected and sent from various religions, were dressed in military uniforms.
They operated as military chaplains, with their belts carrying holy water and purification water, and electric shock collars around their necks, ready to dedicate their lives at a moment’s notice to expel evil spirits when possession might occur. This showed their resolve.
Was that why?
The faces of these religious figures, who should have been brimming with faith and serenity, were stiff with tension and fear.
The faces of the commanders leading the daily routines of the soldiers and even the military chaplains checking their exorcism supplies were filled with a sense of crisis: “If we don’t check carefully, something terrible will happen.”
But perhaps because the sun was still up, the inherent aggression that would surface when human life was threatened had yet to manifest.
—
“Welcome to SP-103.”
The group, greeted with smiles by the commander, was led to a fairly tidy living quarters. Following the staff’s kind guidance, they enjoyed dinner prepared by the kitchen crew and were free to wander around and check various areas of the base.
Of course, their “checking” didn’t include places tied to military secrets like weapon storages or warehouses. Instead, they were allowed access to spaces like the living quarters, the gymnasium, and the cyber knowledge information room. The people from the Military Human Rights Center were diligent in their inspections, using questionnaires and interviews to thoroughly ascertain how the soldiers and officers were living, whether their human rights were being violated, if they were being treated as expendable resources, or exposed to any cruel conduct. If any suspicious situations arose, they would thoroughly investigate the facts based on available data.
And while these human rights workers were doing their job…
Jinseong was not among them.
When the group was distributing the surveys, Jinseong was inspecting his yoke. While the group was carefully reviewing the survey results, he spread out salt in a place where sunlight could fully shine, imbuing it with positive Yang energy. When the group was conducting interviews, he mixed holy water obtained from a military chaplain with the salt, carefully filling PET bottles and storing it away.
He was the only one doing these peculiar things.
And it made him stand out.
Perhaps his behavior was seen as strange?
“What’s that guy doing?”
“We don’t know.”
“Wait, didn’t we hear that a big corporation posted someone here? He’s not sightseeing, not building experience, and not just slacking off… what exactly is he doing?”
“Ah, just ignore him. You don’t want to get involved in his strange antics, do you?”
“But still, shouldn’t we know what he’s doing?”
“We don’t know, and we don’t care. It’s not like he’s going to start a terrorist attack, right? Maybe he just believes in some weird superstitions. Besides, since he was posted here through corporate connections, he’s unlikely to cause problems.”
“Hmm.”
The people in the safe zone began to look at Jinseong with suspicion. The commander outright asked the group about what Jinseong did, while soldiers, driven by curiosity, hesitated to talk to him out of discomfort from his bizarre appearance.
The military chaplains, however, kept a vigilant eye on Jinseong, wondering if he was trying to mimic shamanism or engaging in strange behaviors.
“From what I can see, this young man’s appearance resembles that of a shaman. What are your thoughts, father?”
“Based on what I observed during my time in Rome, there is indeed a peculiar resemblance to the shamans I’ve encountered. But if you ask me if he’s practicing shamanism, I’m not sure. The shamans I know usually carry far more extraordinary items, not the likes of such trivial possessions.”
“Extraordinary items. Is the large golden pyramid you see over there not extraordinary?”
“Do you think I, as a priest, regard gold as mere stone?”
“Isn’t seeing gold as mere stone a statement better suited to monks who transcend material desires? Hahaha.”
—
The blue-eyed foreign priest suspected Jinseong of being a shaman, while the 30-year-old Tibetan monk who had fled to Korea also regarded Jinseong’s attire with a strange expression, deeming it similar to what a shaman would wear.
In fluent Korean, they whispered about Jinseong.
“The golden pyramid, strange attire. The possibility that he’s a shaman is quite high. From what I’ve heard, he’s the second son of a chaebol family, but the safe zone, which is full of evil spirits and deeply tied to religion, might be helping him in some way. It’s possible he’s been posted here to learn.”
“I agree with you, father. This place might seem terrifying, but to spiritual capable individuals or shamans, it might be a place they would want to visit. After all, isn’t hell perceived differently by the mind? Any place where one can find peace and forget one’s suffering can be seen as heaven.”
“However, his youthful, unblemished face suggests he might be new to the ways of shamanism, and unlikely to have achieved much mastery.”
“Or perhaps, after exploring many paths, he’s found interest in shamanism. With wealth and power, one can indulge in grand gestures when starting something.”
“I hope he sees the harsh reality of this safe zone and decides to abandon his pursuit of shamanism. It’s cruel for a young lamb, unaware of true sacrifice, to walk a path filled only with suffering.”
“Na mu amita bul, Gwanseum bosal.”
—
Countless people discussed Jinseong. In the evening, soldiers and officers gathered in the mess hall and continued talking about him while eating, military chaplains debated about whether he truly was a shaman, and the human rights officers complained about which large corporation would send such a strange person here.
But Jinseong paid no heed to their gossip.
He was solely focused on continuing what he had to do.
Even in the evening, he soaked a cloth in saltwater and tirelessly repeated the labor-intensive process of igniting the Samādhi True Fire to dry it thoroughly, until the saltwater evaporated again and again, brining the cloth and ensuring that salt crystallized everywhere.
Then, he meticulously applied saltwater to the iron yoke, leaving no empty spaces. He removed his ragged clothes, finely ground several pills into powder, mixed them with water to create a mud-like paste, and scooped it up with his hands.
The pungent smell and the aroma of cinnamon filled the air as he evenly smeared the sticky mixture on the outer layer of the tattered clothes. Once it was fully applied, he ignited the Samādhi True Fire, drying it instantaneously. The ragged clothes now resembled an oilskin left abandoned after rolling in mud, and when Jinseong draped the cloth over himself, he looked like a beggar from the slums of a developing country.
Having apparently finished his indoor tasks, he stood up, moved into the darkened outdoors, and began turning each piece of firewood into charcoal. The Samādhi True Fire emanating from his hands quickly dried and transformed the wood into pitch-black charcoal, drastically reducing its volume.
After repeating the process, the volume of firewood he had brought in was significantly reduced, small enough to fit into a single sack with plenty of room left.
Jinseong piled the sack of charcoal onto the yoke, added the sack of salt—now reduced to about two-thirds of its original volume—and then placed the golden pyramid on top. Using the cloth tied to the yoke, he securely fastened everything in place. He then looked up at the sky.
The sky, dark with the descent of night, was punctuated with numerous stars due to the lack of light pollution in the northern sky. Some stars were dim, obscured by clouds that seemed like powder shaken from a broken hammer. Others shone brightly, some in clusters, others scattered, trying to convey messages to him.
Jinseong stared at the stars.
The North Star.
The constellations connected by invisible lines.
The clusters of stars that remained unnamed, symbols yet to be bestowed.
Stars that only had names assigned by scholars.
And the dark spaces between them.
He simply gazed.
As he observed, the stars also observed him. Through their mutual observation, they acknowledged each other’s existence and bestowed him with sufficient meanings.
The shifting clouds obscured the stars, and the dark clouds that carried the colors of the universe rearranged the scattered star clusters into a cohesive form. The stars peeking through the clouds formed points, and when connected, transformed into the image of a rat.
Rat.
The animal representing water.
Associated with the north direction and deep night.
The rat’s shape stood upright, not leaning left or right.
Indicating the exact middle of midnight (自時).
Recognizing this, Jinseong understood the appropriate time he could leave the safe zone without being detected.
