“You could’ve at least said you were coming. You almost gave this monk a heart attack.”

The small blue delivery truck somehow made its way up the rough mountain road. Long branches stretched out in the early summer sun and scraped across the body of the truck without mercy.

Hae-som, who had been shrinking at the eerie sound, lifted her head like a turtle and answered,

“What kind of way of speaking is that for a monk? I heard you even got promoted to head monk.”

“You’d be upset if I treated you like a regular believer.”

“That’s true.”

A soft smile passed through the cab for a moment. He was the monk who had looked after her like an uncle ever since the days she lived as a child monk with the Yoo brothers.

She had not come to Hunam-sa after losing Eun-ho, but their bond had not faded.

“I heard you saw Eun-seong the other day. And you two had another fight. You’re both grown up now. What is there to fight about?”

“I don’t know either.”

Hae-som leaned back against the shaking seat and closed her eyes. The fatigue she had built up over the past few days sat heavy under them.

Maybe the tension of holding herself together while staying on guard around Jae-geon had worked better than sleeping pills.

The sleep that had started to come back for a while stepped away again after Eun-seong’s sharp words, and then vanished for good when Jae-geon’s calm face turned cold again.

Was he upset because she had dared to fall asleep with her head buried in his teacher’s teacher’s cookbook? Or had she done something else wrong while half asleep?

Like calling him Eun-ho by mistake in her hazy state…

She did not want to stay trapped in the past and let it shake her around like this anymore. Even if it hurt enough to carve at her heart, she had to widen the gap between Eun-ho and Jae-geon.

Yoo Eun-ho was dead. That was certain. So Jung Jae-geon could not be Yoo Eun-ho.

Jong-myeong watched Hae-som, whose red-rimmed eyes had gone firm with resolve, and turned the truck toward the entrance of Hunam-sa.

“Still not sleeping well these days? Your face looks thinner.”

“No.”

“That insomnia of yours really is stubborn.”

Jong-myeong could not keep talking. One cherished child monk had died, another lived with the pain of losing his brother, and the last one was trapped in a hell of sleepless nights.

He had an idea of what caused her insomnia. If she faced the truth, maybe she could get past it. But as long as she kept turning away from Eun-ho’s death, that would be hard. Jong-myeong swallowed the sigh rising in his throat.

That aside, what wind had blown her here and made her decide to visit Hunam-sa again?

“You haven’t called much lately. What brings you all the way to this humble place?”

Her lips worked for a while before they opened with resolve.

“The truth is… I saw someone who looks like Eun-ho oppa.”

“…Like Eun-ho?”

“I know he’s not Eun-ho. I know that’s impossible too. I’ve accepted that now.”

“But?”

“But I still can’t let go of the hope that he might be. I know I shouldn’t, but my heart keeps acting up.”

Hae-som, who had been staring down with a sunken look, let her gaze drift out with her breath.

Green moss spread across each mountain ridge, and pine needles that had fallen overnight rolled across the tiled roof of the main hall in the wind.

A gust of pine scent brought a face to mind—she could not tell if it was Eun-ho or Jae-geon. Her heart dropped again.

“So, Monk.”

A drop of drizzle tapped against the windshield, and Hae-som finally asked what she had come to ask.

“About Eun-ho oppa… how did he die?”

The smell of incense and burning wood mixed under the small bell pavilion. Low chanting and falling rain overlapped, and time seemed to slow into a knot.

Pulling down Eun-ho’s lantern from the row of lotus lanterns hanging from the main hall roof, Jong-myeong broke the long silence.

“A little while ago was Eun-ho’s death anniversary.”

At once, Hae-som understood why Eun-seong had been so on edge. The tears she had barely held back burst out and wet her dry eyes.

“I don’t know if you remember, but he had congenital heart disease.”

Eun-ho had always been short of breath and slow on his feet. He often gasped like a fish just pulled from water. Only after coming deep into the mountains, where the water was clean and the air was clear, had he been able to live with some peace.

That was why his parents had left the brothers at Hunam-sa. Hae-som had followed because of Eun-ho, and only because of him.

“I learned this myself while watching him, but that illness was like a time bomb. Heart failure, arrhythmia—there were all kinds of complications.”

That was no different from saying he died from his illness, and Hae-som sank deeper into sorrow. The mood dimmed like the gray sky.

As Jong-myeong hung the lantern back in place, he spoke like he was letting out a sigh.

“How awful must it have been. In a way, it must have been like your insomnia.”

No way to fix it. Something tightening around your mind every single day. You drag yourself through the day in a blur, and then another night comes when you still cannot sleep.

And when sleep does come, it is pale and empty like a white night.

…It must have been hell.

“But he looked peaceful at the end.”

That gave Hae-som a little comfort. If his last moments had been peaceful, then at least there was that.

Even so, that did not make saying goodbye easy.

It still felt like he might step out from the monks’ quarters where they had lived as child monks and call, “Miss Seong Hae-som.”

Like he might take in her whining with that gentle voice and pat her head.

But in the Hunam-sa where he no longer existed, only the rain kept falling.

The wind chimes hanging from the roof tiles gave off a sad sound.

The heavy mood showed no sign of lifting. The two of them left the main hall and walked side by side toward the monks’ quarters.

Jong-myeong turned a dead phone over in his hands, glanced at Hae-som, then called someone.

The ringing cut through the silence and brought a familiar voice.

“Yes, Monk.”

“You little punk. How could you let Hae-som come all the way out here by herself?”

Hae-som smiled without meaning to at the way he took her side and scolded Eun-seong, just like he used to when they were young. Hae-som would feel safe, and Eun-seong would feel wronged. Then Eun-ho would step in with a dry cough and stop their bickering.

Memories that had hurt too much to even touch slowly started turning back into memories.

Eun-ho’s thin back, like a branch. Eun-ho coughing hard but forcing himself to stay calm in front of her. His sad eyes as he watched his younger siblings throw snowballs and play…

At last, they came back into focus.

And strangely, that made Eun-ho’s death feel even more real.

“Why would I?”

“Why? Because it would’ve been nice if you’d both come down and seen each other. No matter what, go-stop is best with three people.”

“Then bring Yoo Eun-ho too. Can’t you do something like summon ghosts?”

“I’m too low-level for that.”

“Oh.”

“Besides, would that dull boy even know the fun of gambling? He only cared about picking up loose coins and stuffing them into a piggy bank.”

“Considering he was never far from death, I still don’t get why he was so serious about saving money.”

A quiet smile touched Jong-myeong’s mouth. He sat with Eun-seong’s last words for a while, then handed the warm phone to Hae-som.

“Make up with him before you come in. This monk will get the bedding ready.”

Maybe it was because of the fight from last night, but the air reaching through the phone felt awkward.

If she apologized first, it would feel like she was forgiving the harsh way he had talked about Eun-ho. But she had not done everything right either, so she still felt she should say something.

If Eun-seong had not started first, the talk might never have happened.

“Seong Hae-som.”

“Yeah.”

“When you come back to Seoul, call me. We’ll finish what we didn’t get to say.”

“Fine.”

“Seong Hae-som’s buying, right?”

“Pick something cheap and keep your conscience.”

She answered in a dry tone on purpose, but the line of her mouth had already softened.

After hanging up, Hae-som stepped out into the yard and handed the phone back to Jong-myeong with a small smile.

“I think I’m glad I came here.”

“Seeing this monk’s handsome face made you feel better, right? Back in the day, I made plenty of women cry. Then I fell for the Buddha instead.”

Hae-som answered the silly joke with a faint laugh, then glanced at the neat bedding that had been laid out. For some reason, she felt sure she would not be able to sleep.

Jong-myeong caught her troubled look at once and added,

“The internet works well here now too. If you really can’t sleep, try listening to the Buddha’s teachings on YouTube. Works fast.”

“You’re saying Buddhist scripture is boring, aren’t you?”

Jong-myeong hid a playful smile behind his pressed palms and put on a solemn voice.

“I meant that you should find peace in your heart. Namu Amita-bul.”

Moonlight stretched long across the floor after he left. Sitting cross-legged, Hae-som played the sleep playlist he had suggested and tried to meditate.

Tok, tok, rr-r-r.

The sutra chanting mixed with the wooden moktak beat sounded sleepy enough, but her mind stayed wide awake.

Maybe she should just go train in the main hall. If she did 108 prostrations, maybe she would be tired enough to fall asleep.

Following an old habit, Hae-som ran out into the yard of the main hall without even putting on shoes.

As if the Buddha had heard her wish to sleep deeply just for tonight, the thousands of stars fixed in the sky gladly lit her way like streetlamps.

The ground was soft and damp from the summer rain. It felt like a good start.

The incense smell, faint under the scent of flowers, grass, and earth, slowly grew stronger.

Realizing she was close to the main hall, Hae-som slowed her steps and evened out her breathing.

It was a kind of warm-up before climbing the forty-nine stone steps and doing 108 prostrations.

She took a deep breath and straightened from the waist.

Then she froze.

“……”

If this was not a nightmare, and not a dream—

then the man sitting with ease on what looked like the twentieth step, plucking at pine needles, had to be Yoo Eun-ho. Truly. Really.

Because Jae-geon could not possibly know about a remote hermitage like this, tucked away from the world.

“Seong Hae-som, you…”

It seemed that Eun-ho’s spirit, unable to fully leave this world, had drifted out from the main hall.

Ghost or goblin, it did not matter. Hae-som would have been content with even the smallest trace of Eun-ho.

The moment she made out the silhouette she had missed so much, tears pushed up into her eyes. Even as her vision blurred and flashed, Hae-som forced her eyes open again and again, desperate to keep him in sight just a little longer.

Even if it was only an illusion, please.

But while her heart longed to reach Eun-ho, her body sank helplessly into darkness, like a blackout swallowing her whole.

Thud, thud. No matter how hard she tried, not even her toes would move the way she wanted. The helplessness made tears rise again.

“Hngh!”

The body that had been frozen as if pinned by sleep paralysis was suddenly lifted into the air in an instant.