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On the roof of an old building, there is one person.

A young man crouches on his knees, his arms extended towards the sky, hidden in darkness, surrounded by countless twinkling city lights in the distance, like fireflies.

He is positioned as if time has momentarily frozen, just about to perform the Five-Body Posture, feeling the night breeze at the center of the rooftop.

His head is directed towards the heavens.

Beyond the smog-filled sky, it seems as if he is trying to penetrate the twinkling stars.

And beneath the man are neatly cut square marble panels.

The panels, suitable for decor, are stacked orderly to form an altar, and makeshift pillars made from cardboard and polyurethane foam protect the altar like totems.

The cardboard is carved with a knife.

Thick and thin lines appear to connect and disconnect at varying depths, creating a shape that, seen up close, resembles graffiti but, from afar, vaguely resembles an animal.

“The breath of the sky. The chattering wind. The sleeping lightning. The storm that gathers strength. From the diligent clouds, the starting point of the sky, the roots of the water, the hot blood slumbering underground.”

It is the idol of humanity’s early days.

A shape created by humans lacking proper skills through their efforts.

Believing in the life that dwells in all things, they thought they could replicate the traits of that life by worshipping it – an almost delusional tool for primitive faith that such life would willingly grant them power.

Thus, the altar and idol made from materials commonly available in modern times came to be.

Before time was distorted, ancient animism discovered at a relic site in Germany.

However, it was overshadowed by a wooden bridge from BC also found in a wetland in Germany, not receiving the attention it so rightfully deserved and fading out of the people’s interest.

Indeed, it was forgotten, especially after Park Jinseong purchased the documents at a high price.

But behold.

Here, a primitive ritual performed by ancient people is being reenacted.

An awkwardly constructed totem.

An altar built by stacking flat stones.

And the priest standing on top of it.

It may seem clumsy, yet ironically it’s a ritual that is perfectly challenging to replicate here and now.

“Wings to convey my words to the sky. Long things to relay my words to the earth. Scaled things to share my words with the water. Squirming things to tell my words to the grass and trees. I ask all those messengers.”

What leaves Park Jinseong’s mouth is Korean.

Words and language used by ancient people are non-existent.

But that doesn’t matter.

The primitive magic he performs now is not about such ‘form.’

What is important are the precise shapes of the altar and totem.

The intent behind Park Jinseong’s words.

And generally, it would be impossible to achieve the level of ecstasy he is reaching without taking any drugs.

Even if it appears awkward, this is a strict security measure.

If just one part were lacking, it wouldn’t be executed.

Moreover, in a state of ecstasy, he likely possesses the visions of those who performed these rituals back then. What they should consume – even how to concoct it.

All of that would have been revealed to a mere handful of individuals.

However, such security held no meaning for Park Jinseong.

Thanks to countless rituals he performed, he could easily enter a trance state without special substances.

The spirit and experience of a shaman who has wandered through the world collecting magic are not trivial, and he reached a point where simple meditation allowed him to slip into trance after the extensive experiences that had wrecked his body beyond recovery.

“Oooh….”

Perhaps it is similar to what the warriors call the union of heaven and earth, where the boundary between myself and nature blurs, allowing me to draw on the energies of the natural world.

It might not differ greatly from what is referred to as the state of a demi-god in the mundane world.

If a trance state allows one to perceive and communicate with that which is beyond the usual five senses, then easily entering that state whenever one desires would indeed signify reaching such a level.

Yet the shaman’s karma is akin to a flower that withers before fully harnessing its power.

Or perhaps like an ancient tree that continues to rot, despite the time for it to wither having long passed.

Thus, even if the spirit is elevated to its peak, what significance does it hold unless one aims to communicate with the gods and receive their strength?

But does a god even exist?

The existence of transcendent beings is widely known, and the notion that they are referred to as transcendent species or beings is a fact known to all. However, could such entities that people have believed and worshiped—those that are truly unimaginable to even dare to conceive—actually exist?

Ah, exploration is complex and difficult.

Endless in its path, it is that very principle that no absolute or unchanging truth exists. Hence, those infinite musings continue; how could one overcome contradictions? The moment one attempts to imagine the unimaginable, it becomes impossible to do so, and the distant goal eludes once more, forcing one to contemplate the horrid notion of envisioning the unimaginable again – thus understanding how numerous sages have abandoned their pursuits and stepped into madness.

But thus.

Park Jinseong merely desires transcendence.

–

Ah.

The stars have answered.

They whispered to him without sound that he could indeed do so.

And they also whispered to those who had grown close to him.

To the one clothed in the shattered light of the cityscape, they conveyed.

– It comes.

– A guest arrives.

Ah!

Oh, silent ambiguity.

Oh, formless shape.

Without intent or core, it approaches and grants him enlightenment.

Indeed, it is as subtle and scattered as starlight.

Thus, Park Jinseong relaxes from the posture he had maintained like a stone statue on the altar, rising.

He then carefully descends the stairs, ensuring he doesn’t disturb the recently added security devices, making his way to the entrance of the building.

“Jin-seong! An-yeong, an-yeong!”

There stood the White Girl.

Asha.

His companion before the rewind, and now a friend of his younger sister.

Asha beamed at Park Jinseong.

She stepped closer to him, as if to say it was nice to see him, but suddenly halted, placing a hand on her head and slowly moving it forward.

Then, as if gauging the distance, she alternated her gaze between her hand and Park Jinseong.

“Oooh. Jin-seong, can you see? My body has been aching lately, and I’ve grown taller!”

She began to boast of her height.

Saying how every night she wakes up due to aching knees and waist because of the growth, and that when she wakes up from sleep because of that pain, she is so fidgety that she can’t remain still, so she tires herself out by pounding on the mochi slime she brought from her dreams and then falls asleep.

At a glance, it seemed like something a child might brag about.

And indeed, Anastasia had the body shape of a child, which made it even more apparent.

She had grown a bit, and some curves had developed, but how much had she really grown?

If you were to see her trying to stand on her toes slightly, it would be nothing short of a child trying to look taller.

Park Jinseong smiled as he looked at Anastasia.

“Ah, the growing period. Truly a wonderful thing. The fruit will bear once the pain has passed.”

“Hmph. It’s a nice word, indeed. If only the pain were omitted!”

Anastasia nodded, as if agreeing with Park Jinseong’s words.

Then, after glancing around sneakily, she lowered her voice, as if sharing a secret.

“…Especially because I think I will grow taller than my sister, Ella.”

Hee-hee.

Asha whispered playfully and laughed.

“Considering how much pain your body is in, it seems you’ll grow quickly, but who knows how much you’ll actually grow?”

Anastasia laughed lightly, pulling away from Park Jinseong.

She opened the zipper of her backpack, pulling out something white and fluffy.

A cloud?

No, it was something that, while fluffy, had a chewy texture, similar to rice cake.

“Ah. This is shock-absorbing mochi slime, so don’t worry~”

Whip.

Thwack.

Asha hurled the mochi slime, which she had used like bubble wrap, without a second thought.

Was it also light in weight like its squishy, chewy appearance?

Having been thrown with the thin and petite arms of Anastasia, it soared all the way to the second floor before crashing onto the ground.

It thudded against the floor, bouncing multiple times, and bizarrely, a large white band-aid was awkwardly stuck in an X shape where it first impacted.

However…

The cruel Anastasia, ignorant of the mochi slime’s plight, completely dismissed its suffering…

She carefully pulled something out from her backpack.

“…Mouth.”

A sculpture in the shape of a mouth made from a mixture of salt and sand.

It looked so precarious that just touching it might shatter it—something with a dreamlike quality that seemed not from reality at all.

“They told me to deliver it to Jin-seong. So, I’m here as a delivery girl!”

Anastasia smiled, extending it toward Park Jinseong.

 

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