Mukeoja vanished like the wind.
Mukeoja (墨語子) turned more swiftly than when he had come.
He vanished like the wind.
No trace remained where he had passed.
No one could tell that anyone had come at all.
It was quiet, as if nothing had happened.
That had been the tenor of his life—
a life in which even after he passed, none knew he had passed.
Who, then, could question such a life?
It was concealment to the end.
Sowoon reflected.
The place one remains, the environment one inhabits—
these can bind a person.
Where one stands matters.
The time spent in the frontier fields of Haran.
The wandering days descending to Henan.
Without those stretches of road, the present self would not exist.
There are realizations that can be gained only by passing through certain paths.
Mukeoja did not even leave behind a lonely silhouette.
He came like the wind and disappeared like the wind.
Sowoon had wished to live among people.
To be treated the same.
To laugh the same.
To live as others live.
But reality differed.
People sought to learn from him.
To measure him.
To use him.
Perhaps that was natural.
Where strength is visible, people gather.
Yet Sowoon had imagined something else.
To live among others meant, to him, to live without standing out.
He had imagined hiding his name, moving to another city, living quietly.
He believed life might continue as before.
Mukeoja's life was one choice.
A path taken from a place that could not be escaped.
Sowoon did not wish to follow that path.
A hidden life resembled the old man's years too closely.
As one direction settled within him, his chest felt lighter.
He did not know what form it would take.
But he sensed that a new life could begin.
Teaching people here at Namsan was already a different road from before.
After meeting Mukeoja, that thought grew clearer.
He sat beneath the small canopy, head bowed.
Sunlight slid along the edge of the tent.
Jimin, whose name alone sounded gentle, approached.
"Young master. What weighs so heavily on your thoughts?"
"I was thinking of a new life. I intended to live hidden, but I see no need for that. It was merely a desire to avoid inconvenience. There is no reason to hide like a criminal."
Jimin laughed lightly.
"Why ponder so deeply over something so obvious?"
For Sowoon, it was a difficult question.
For Jimin, it was simple.
That gap felt strange.
What is easy for another becomes a towering wall when it stands before oneself.
Because one's own life is at stake.
Before one's own problem, a person grows sensitive.
Even trivial words sharpen.
"Do you know me?"
Within that single sentence lies the instinct to guard one's own life.
An unremarkable body.
An unremarkable day.
An unremarkable thought.
Yet those unremarkable things are everything to the one who lives them.
A person is precious not because his thoughts are grand,
but because of the living awareness that answers each moment—
that spiritual knowing (靈知).
It is not walking a solitary path that makes one precious.
Jimin's brief, sharp words struck deeply in Sowoon's chest.
"May one simply live as one wishes?"
His eyes wavered.
"I have heard that only sages can live as they please without straying from the Way (道), without violating propriety (禮). May I truly live so?"
Jimin sighed as she laughed.
"Young master, you speak like Confucius himself."
She tilted her head.
"Just live that way. Who will object?"
Her tone was casual.
"You've stuffed your head full of strange studies."
She brushed her hand as if it were nothing more to discuss.
"Jimin noona, then may I do as before? Kill someone, break something—if there is reason, is that acceptable too?"
Her words caught.
Yes—it was different.
She might say such things lightly because she lacked the power to carry them out.
But he possessed that power.
If he acted thus, would it not be wrong?
For the first time, Jimin began to grasp the weight of his struggle.
Sowoon believed that such questioning itself formed part of awakening.
That only when such thoughts connected could one truly step into the next world.
This was a time requiring deeper thought.
To sink inward and remain still might have helped more.
Yet such conditions were not granted to him.
People constantly approached.
They asked questions at every turn.
And when they felt somewhat ready, they demanded to test themselves.
There was no quiet left for him.