Mukeoja (默語子) — Confirmation
Confirmation was needed.
What Mukeoja required was… an affirmation that he had attained enlightenment.
He believed he had crossed the realm.
Yet in truth, he stood before the wall.
It seemed crossed—yet his foot had not fully touched the other side.
There were several questionable signs.
Breath opening and the senses widening.
Experiences of energy thinning as if vanishing.
Moments when time slowed and sound grew distant.
At the edge of Hwagyeong, such things occur often.
They are common to those who stand at the boundary.
Those strange experiences
can deceive the self.
It appears crossed.
Yet the threshold remains.
On that basis, Mukeoja completed the Compendium.
From what he perceived at that boundary, he reorganized existing martial arts.
Form and breath.
One movement to one inhalation.
That system reflected the world he had seen.
Yet behind that grand synthesis lingered a question.
Had he truly crossed?
And so he sought confirmation.
Through the eyes of another.
Through another's attainment.
He wished to hear it from one who had already passed the wall.
Sowoon already knew.
If one has crossed, one does not seek confirmation.
He knew this from experience.
When one crosses a realm, the world does not change.
One simply discovers oneself standing upon a different vantage.
One knows without asking.
One knows without borrowing another's mouth.
The self becomes clear.
The trembling question disappears.
To seek confirmation
is to admit that a question still remains somewhere.
A small ripple stirred within Sowoon.
Can one cross a realm
through a book written by one who has not?
It sounded contradictory.
Yet a book only points the way.
Crossing the threshold is each person's own task.
A book does not cross the wall for you.
It only shows where the wall stands.
He shifted the subject.
"Elder, why did you choose the pen name Mukeoja (墨語子)? What does it mean? People strive to leave their names in the world—yet you concealed yourself with such a name. I am curious."
Sowoon's tone was gentle.
Yet it was direct.
Mukeoja met his eyes.
They were clear. Unadorned. They did not circle around.
Before such eyes, silence was difficult.
It had been his place to wait for confirmation—
yet now it was his turn to answer.
A faint smile touched Mukeoja's lips.
But it differed from before.
The old man, who had long been sparing with words, spoke slowly.
"After several political upheavals, I had to close my mouth. Even the smallest word could bring disaster."
His voice lowered.
"So I lived with my mouth shut. Now, even if I speak, none listen. But in those days, a single wrong word could cause calamity."
He rolled the teacup between his fingers.
"So I called myself Mukeoja. The one who does not speak. I was in no position to reveal myself."
A faint smile flickered.
"Yet those who knew, knew. Your father. General Jin."
Sowoon remained silent.
In Mukeoja's eyes, the waiting still lingered.
Am I truly at Hwagyeong?
The question had not been withdrawn.
Sowoon avoided answering it.
He would not deliver confirmation.
To tell a man who had studied his entire life that he had not crossed—
that would be cruel.
Using the lengthening pause, he shifted the subject again,
as though the heart of the conversation had always been elsewhere.
"Elder, how should I live now?"
His voice was quiet.
"With your long experience and transcendent martial attainment, can you not speak of the path? That is why I wished to meet you."
He paused, then added,
"It feels as though there is little left to do. Whether I act or do not act seems much the same."
Mukeoja turned his gaze toward the mountainside, where sunlight slanted down.
"Heh heh."
A short laugh escaped.
"You avoid the matter. Your heart is kind, child. You do not wish to say that I have not crossed the wall of Hwagyeong."
His eyes returned to Sowoon.
"So you turned the topic elsewhere. Is that not so?"
Mukeoja already understood.
Sowoon stood upon a different place than he.
The desire for confirmation had already cooled.
Seeing alone was enough.
It was like standing at the foot of a mountain and looking up—
one does not need words to confirm the summit.
It showed in Sowoon's demeanor.
His kindness made it clearer.
This was not why he had come.
Yet life often hands us confirmations we never sought.
A sigh slipped from Mukeoja like a thread unwinding.
The sunlight shone with unusual brightness.
That brightness felt almost unreal.
"I apologize, Elder. I merely… stand upon the path forward. To say yes or no seems meaningless. Rather, you are worthy of respect, and—"
Sowoon attempted to continue,
but the sentence would not settle.
Mukeoja gently cut him off.
"Enough."
A single word.
Polite—yet unmistakable.
"Unnecessary embellishment. I have no need of such things, child."
His voice was calm.
The bitterness had already passed.