Everything flows.
The invisible air flows and wanders through the world, while the clouds floating in the sky gather and scatter, continuously flowing away. Following the river of air in the sky, the clouds flow, becoming streams of water that combine into a river.
The river sometimes clusters into a lake, flowing onwards like an ocean. The clouds created in this way cannot withstand their own weight and pour down onto the ground, beginning to flow anew from there.
The flow of existence in all things.
This flow is one of the countless truths that penetrate the world.
The earth flows, the water flows, the air flows, and the fire flows.
The celestial bodies flow, the sky flows, and people flow.
Everything that exists flows, and that which ceases to flow meets death.
Thus the ancient prophet spoke.
“Do not stop. Just as stagnant water rots and smells, so is the way of the world. If you keep flowing, you will eventually rise greatly; this is the fastest path to becoming a great person.”
So it was said.
But not all flows are the same.
Am I guiding the flow, or am I riding it?
Do I resist the flow, or do I rather quicken my pace, surrendering to it?
There are clear distinctions in the results of all these choices.
And now.
Here exists one who has chosen to let themselves be carried away by the flow.
“Om Vajrasattva Hum. Om Vajra Sattva Samaya Anaparaya Vajra Sattva. Tvenopp Atista Dridha Me Ba-Ba.”
In a high-rise building in America.
There is one who recites the mantra.
His name is Park Jinseong.
Just as in his days as a mercenary before his return, he was here to fulfill a request and solve a task.
“Sutosyo Me Babanu Raktoma Me Baba Su Poshyo Me Baba. Sarva Shittin Cha Me. Priyajja Sarva Karme Su Cha Me Chitta Sreyo Kuru.”
He filled a whole floor with smoke as if it were the den of a raccoon, reciting the mantra from the center. Sitting cross-legged on the bare floor, his eyes were closed.
His hands danced in a mysterious seal, gliding through the air, tracing curves and lines as if he were slowly floating in heavy and dense water.
“Hum Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ho Bhagavan—Sarva Tathagata Vajra Ma Me Munchu Vajri Baba. Maha Samaya Sattva Aha. Sarva Tathagata Vajra Ma Me Munchu Vajri Baba. Maha Samaya Sattva Aha. Sarva Tathagata Vajra Ma Me Munchu Vajri Baba. Maha Samaya Sattva Aha—”
What Jinseong was reciting was the Vajrasattva Mantra.
Also referred to as the Diamond Sutra or the Hundred-Syllable Mantra.
Amidst the swirling smoke blooming like the behind of a firefly, the flame of incense emitted a red light.
Like a dragon ascending, the smoke rose toward the ceiling.
It collided and shattered, clustering and turning hazy.
In the clouds and fog created in that way, the mantra echoed, reflected, broken, and spread.
It was a mysterious landscape.
Perhaps it looked bizarre.
And just as that mystery was on the verge of breaking through to another floor.
The mantra came to a halt.
As if a songbird that had been singing wildly sensed the presence of a beast and closed its beak tightly.
As if a mountain, suddenly cloaked in night, held its breath.
Thus the mantra ceased, and the incense, which had been glowing red and showing its presence, extinguished all at once.
The slowly rising smoke spat out its last remnants like a death rattle and abruptly stopped, permeating the floor like a cloud.
Into the pillars.
To the ground.
Through the windows.
Through the vents.
Through the sewage.
As the smoke vanished and the fog cleared.
What remained where everything had disappeared was just one man.
Dressed in a suit, standing expressionless… only Park Jinseong.
Jinseong took a step.
Then he picked up a chair and moved to the window, gazing into the distance.
A landscape adorned with a bright red sunset.
It felt similar to what one might see in Seoul, yet somehow different.
Perhaps that difference was because they were in another country, or perhaps it was because he stood in a building much taller than his dwelling?
As he looked on, cars flowed along the road. People flowed in the streets, and in the building’s interior, bustling people moved, their images reflected in the windows. Those windows reflected light in various angles, casting the sky’s glow and the bright red sunset’s light.
As if a river of red light was flowing away.
And within that flow.
Everyone existed.
Everyone.
People.
Cars.
And, Park Jinseong too.
“Flow, oh flow.”
Jinseong crossed his legs and looked outside.
In his eyes, the changing scenery outside was slow yet rapid, clear.
That external sight was undoubtedly one single flow, and within that flow, he also existed.
This was because he had chosen to surrender to the flow, carried along like a boat gliding along the water.
That flow was made up of cause and effect.
And that cause and effect was far too broad and complex for human sight to easily comprehend.
Yet there were no coincidences in all things of the world, and a reason certainly existed.
Thus, Jinseong willingly decided to ride that flow.
Yes.
That was precisely why he accepted Lucas’s request.
‘Lucas Metathronius Goldsmith.’
A person he had not known.
A figure who appeared anything but ordinary, making it all the more strange that he had first heard that name.
Jinseong suspected this man named Lucas had a connection to the altered future.
This was a guess, and at the same time, a certainty.
Since he could not even grasp its outline, it was a guess.
Yet despite lacking evidence, it felt trustworthy; that was the certainty.
It was clear that the absence of terror was influenced by that man.
‘The reason I did not know the name is undoubtedly because he met death in the not-too-distant past. A person who should have died lived; thus, it is not strange for the flow to reverse like the current changing due to a stone in the water.’
The dead live.
The living die.
That alone is enough to change the future significantly.
Are there not exemplars of this?
Ella B Winter.
A girl who, originally, could not have coexisted with Anastasia.
She escaped the fate of death at Jinseong’s hands in Russia.
Thus revived, she existed as the sister of Anastasia, a friend to Iarin and Iserin, another family member of the Great Witch Odilia, and a precious disciple akin to the daughter of Witch Agnes, changing the future.
And thus, the altered future would gradually create a larger rift, ultimately shattering the knowledge he possessed.
Therefore, Lucas’s survival would similarly be crucial in changing the future.
Especially since, unlike the relatively weak and non-influential Ella, he could project immense wealth and influence, intensifying the distortions further.
That is why Jinseong willingly accepted his request.
He was clearly showing that he knew about himself, and he had definitely harbored resentments here and there, along with a hint of testing attitude and an unmistakable feeling that something was slightly different.
No, rather, it was precisely due to that suspicion that it held value.
Gaining information he had not known before the return could aid in achieving his goals.
Hence, he was determined to test the distorted flow and discover what lay at its end.
Who knows?
Perhaps there could be a clue at the end of that flow.
Might he come into contact with the secrets that likely vanished from a land full of chaos, like a witch’s cauldron?
Who can tell?
As Jinseong contemplated this, he slowly lifted his drooping head.
He fixed his gaze on the empty sky, igniting a flame in his eyes.
The embers danced and swam within his pupils, the swimming flames forming lines into a three-dimensional shape. Strengthened, his gaze reached the tip of the flames, attempting to pierce through the starlight hidden within the smoke.
But a veil lay over that flame, one even it could not dare approach.
Satellites hovering over the American continent floated with their wings folded, obstructing his sight of the stars.
Those satellites, positioned 35,786 km above the equator, concealed themselves beautifully.
Yet from that place, they fulfilled their role, enveloping America.
“Indeed. They were here even at this time.”
For Jinseong, it was a remarkably familiar satellite.
He thought to himself that this country called America was truly a peculiar place.
