About Two Years and Eleven Months Later
When the young novice rushed to inform Jiduck of the visitors at Moonlight Temple, the abbot dismissed the news with a wave of his hand. Jiduck paid no mind—none had ever disturbed the stillness he so carefully cultivated.
But the novice insisted, his tone more urgent than usual.
"They say they come with purpose. One of them claims she is of noble blood—a princess, no less."
Jiduck raised a brow. "There is a Senior Guest Monk assigned to such matters," he replied coolly. "Go to him."
"But… she is the Third Princess of the Jin family of Baekje."
He paused mid-step. The Jin household of Baekje… The name stirred memories long buried. Back when he was cast in shadow, he had sought their aid. If only they had intervened then… perhaps she could have survived. Perhaps, with their power behind him, he could have even become the ruler of Samul Gaya. But their response had come too late, and his father's youngest concubine had already met her untimely end.
That path had crumbled. The Jin family had vanished from his life like a dream fading with dawn.
Why now? After more than twenty years—why come searching for him now?
As abbot, Jiduck finally agreed to receive them in the temple's high guest hall. There, he found a modest entourage—far too modest for a royal household. And the so-called Third Princess asked not of temple affairs or formalities, but of a day nearly three years past.
Jiduck asked about Sir Pieng—whether he was well.
She didn't care for his question. Not only that, but she hadn't truly cared for Jiduck from the start.
Of course not, Jiduck thought bitterly. Why would the Jin family care for a man forgotten not only by Gaya but by Samul itself?
Jiduck chanted silently to Amitabha, steadying his mind. Slowly, the last remnants of his worldly attachments faded, and a sense of calm washed over him. He felt peace again.
But the woman—Gami—leaned forward now, her tone quickened by urgency.
"The man who came here that day…" she said. "He may have been my husband."
Jiduck's eyes opened slowly. He studied her face. Then she spoke the name.
"His name is Goi."
A name carved deeply into memory—a name he had buried beneath years of silence.
With a solemn voice, he recounted the tragedy that had unfolded at Moonlight Temple, his voice steady despite the weight of the memories.
To his surprise, Gami and her family showed little reaction. They listened, unshaken.
In hindsight, Jiduck understood. A man with such spiritual might—had he truly come only to save one monk in peril? Was that all?
As his story drew to a close, Gami and her family burst into laughter. Even Jiduck couldn't help but chuckle.
"I've seen many women captivated by my looks, but for a sacred tree to fall for me…" He shook his head, his tone turning solemn.
"Amitabha," he said. "To ask such things of one who has renounced the world—it was never possible."
Gami tilted her head, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "Perhaps you should have given her what she wanted, Master."
Jiduck raised a brow. "How could you suggest such disgrace to one who has taken vows? Even your husband, who saved my life, never spoke such words."
Her smile faded slightly. "Then you should remember the lives of your disciples who died because of your stubbornness. A single night's refusal cost too much."
His face grew stern, but he answered calmly.
"Are you insisting that all suffering stems from within? One, however, must not claim the world's burdens as their own."
Gami's tone turned cold.
"So it was the demon's fault, not yours?" she asked. "Is your own nirvana all that matters, Master? What about saving others? Isn't that also the Buddha's will?"
Jiduck's gaze sharpened. "Delusions arise from misguided attachments," he said evenly.
She leaned forward. "Will you hide behind the Vimalakirti Sutra now?" she challenged. "Those who act with purpose do not harm others to save themselves. They sacrifice themselves to achieve their goals."
Her words stung. Even Jiduck felt a flicker of surprise at the sharp edge of her learning. But he kept his voice calm and instructive. "To rebuke others unjustly only brings suffering upon oneself."
Gami slammed her palm on the table.
"True wisdom is proven in action, not words, Master!" she exclaimed. "Those who flaunt scripture often forget to live its truth."
The tension in the room grew palpable. Young Dui, bored by the heated exchange, tugged at his uncle Zeali's sleeve. Zeali, distracted by the brewing storm between Gami and Jiduck, leaned down as the boy whispered.
"Uncle… do you know why Brother Goi left home?"
Zeali looked into the boy's wide, innocent eyes. He gently tousled Dui's hair and whispered, "Sounds like our little Dui has heard something important."
Dui nodded solemnly, then glanced nervously at the adults before whispering again.
"They say he struck Sir Pieng, his father-in-law… with a blade. Left him half-dead… then ran away."
Zeali's eyes softened with sorrow. The burden in the boy's voice was far too heavy for one so young.
"Yes, child," he murmured. "That part… is true."
Dui's guilt eased slightly, knowing his uncle shared the truth. He whispered once more, "That's why I want to listen. I won't resent Brother Goi. I'll spend my life repaying the kindness of our sister-in-law for not abandoning us instead."
Meanwhile, Gami's voice rose to a shout.
"Enlightenment comes through action, Master!"
Jiduck tried to speak, but she stood abruptly.
"What kind of seeker clings so tightly to self? When you reach the gate of Nirvana, you'll face the high threshold paved with the lives of your disciples!"
Her voice boomed. Dui leaned close again and whispered to Zeali and Sui, "Sometimes… she scares me, too."
Moments later, Gami strode toward them, her fury unspent.
"Let us go," she snapped. "My foolish husband only saved the wrong one."
The three Woos bowed briefly to Jiduck, then quickly followed her out.
Stillness returned. The disciples stirred, but Jiduck raised a hand to still them.
"Enlightenment comes through action." Her words rang within him, like the echo of the great Buddhist Bell in the temple's heart. He felt a warmth spread through his body, a clarity he hadn't known in years.
He stood quietly for a long while, heat rising slowly within him—not from anger, but from revelation. Finally, he spoke.
"Yes… to know and to act must become one."
Then, turning to his disciples, he declared, "From today, I shall enter seclusion in wall-facing meditation."
As the sun bathed gently over the gates of Moonlight Temple, its golden light fell upon Jiduck's serene face—still beautiful, still resolute, even after all these years.