Chapter 93: The Stars in the Stillness

"Lee Jun-hyuk, Author."

As I was about to return to my room, Author Oh Jung-hee called out to stop me once more.

"Since earlier, your phone's been getting calls nonstop. It seems urgent, so you might want to answer."

The phone I got back after just a day had eight missed calls from Hong Joo-hee.

-Author! Ah, finally got through. So, I just got an urgent call from another drama production team on my way out. There was a fire at the set, so I think I need to go back.

"A fire? Was anyone hurt?"

-Fortunately, it happened at dawn, so there were no casualties. Please don't worry too much.

"Ah. That's a relief."

-I thought you might be uncomfortable staying at the temple, so I sent a few things by express delivery. They should arrive soon. You're doing all right, right?

"Well. About that..."

-I contacted President Seo, and he said your schedule has about ten days cleared. Just stay there for now, and as soon as you’re out, let's go for a counseling session together.

"T-Ten days?"

-Why? Not enough? Should I ask for more time off for you?

"No, definitely not."

I glanced back at the pavilion I'd just been in.

Watching the faces of the laywomen leaving after tea, I couldn't help but think, if my mother were alive, wouldn't she have looked like that?

"Well. I'll try staying for ten days. But after ten days, you really have to... really, really come get me, okay?"

For some reason, I felt like a child insisting on a pinky promise to be picked up after ten nights, making sure to get a stamp of promise.

But right now, unless I got such a promise, I felt like I might end up leaving the mountain without any gains at all.

-Yes, Author. I'll definitely come.

Only after receiving a definite answer from Director Hong Joo-hee did I hang up, clicking my tongue in regret.

---

"Hello, Author Oh. I'm Hong Joo-hee. It's an honor to meet you."

Hong Joo-hee gave a deep ninety-degree bow to Oh Hee-kyung, who had come to meet her at the entrance to the temple.

"You brought so much. You really didn't have to."

"Our author is, as you see, a total city boy from Seoul. I was worried whether he’d adapt to temple life, so I brought a bit of everything. Oh, and of course, there’s no meat so everyone here can share."

"Hoho. Author Lee is truly blessed with good people. Thank you. We'll enjoy it."

"But, can I ask why you suggested our author stay here for ten days? There really was a fire at the set, but I didn’t necessarily have to go myself. I feel a little bad for lying to him."

"Author Lee Jun-hyuk is a smart person."

Oh Hee-kyung, despite her petite frame, easily hefted a ten-kilogram sack of rice from Hong Joo-hee's car and spoke.

"In ten days, he’ll come to know the illness of his heart."

"The illness... of his heart?"

"Everyone has their own ailments. When and how you heal it is up to you. If he manages to do it now, he'll write even better in the future. Isn’t that what you want, Director Hong?"

"Ah. Well, that’s true. I just worry, since I don’t think he’s ever stayed in a place like this."

"Hoho. You sound just like a mother. He’s a grown man with a full head of hair, so don’t worry."

"Yes, sunim—Ah, I mean, author."

Hong Joo-hee almost instinctively called her ‘sunim’ out of respect for her presence.

Seeing Hong Joo-hee hurriedly collect herself, Oh Hee-kyung smiled kindly and turned away.

She, along with the other monks, carried up to the mountain the blankets, clothes, rubber shoes, boots, rice, rice cakes, cabbages, and tofu that Hong Joo-hee had brought.

Watching Oh Hee-kyung, Hong Joo-hee felt like she was meeting a sect leader straight out of a martial arts novel.

After all, she had called first and told her, "If you want to cure Lee Jun-hyuk’s slump, don’t show your face," a prophecy-like statement that was nothing short of extraordinary.

Being told exactly, "You’ll need this, and that, and this," saved her from worrying, and she was grateful for it.

To think the legendary Oh Hee-kyung actually lived as a hidden martial arts master in an unnamed mountain temple.

How on earth did Jo Min-sung know that Author Oh was here? She was amazed once again by his information network.

Shivering a little, perhaps because of the cold, Hong Joo-hee climbed into the driver’s seat.

She was briefly concerned that Lee Jun-hyuk might be up on that mountain, practicing self-cultivation and forcibly building inner power, but surely they wouldn’t beat him to a pulp to make him invincible in a week.

She shook off the uneasy feelings and gripped the steering wheel.

Meanwhile, Oh Hee-kyung returned to the temple and spoke calmly.

"Now then. These foods and daily necessities were donated by a company close to Mr. Lee Jun-hyuk. Let's be grateful and use them well."

"My, thank you so much. There’s really no need for all this."

"We’ll eat well, layman."

"Haha. Yes. Um, Author Oh?"

"Yes?"

I sidled up to Author Oh Hee-kyung and quietly asked.

"Is this everything Director Hong sent by express? A laptop, books, anything else?"

"Why would you need a laptop or books? Planning to write?"

"I get uneasy if I don’t write for a few days. I made a personal vow to write something, even just a few lines, every day. Even with just a phone, I could jot things down in the notepad. Well, not that I’m sure I’d be able to write anything."

Oh Hee-kyung, looking at me slyly asking for a phone, replied firmly.

"You won’t die."

"Excuse me?"

"You won’t be ruined. Not just because you don’t write for ten days. Your ego’s a bit much."

"Ahem."

Without further acknowledgement, Oh Hee-kyung turned away.

Even though I had spent the whole day at the temple, meditating, cleaning, drinking tea, doing all sorts of things, I was stunned to see that the sun was still up.

A day couldn't possibly feel any longer.

---

After evening prayers and dinner, I returned to my room and lay sprawled on the warm ondol floor, toasting my whole body.

The thought of having to wake up at four in the morning for another thousand prostrations already made my vision go dark.

With no phone or laptop, all I could do was think, but my body was so exhausted that even thinking was impossible.

Just lying there, blankly feeling the warmth seeping into my back and thighs—

Knock, knock—

"Author Lee."

Outside, I heard Oh Hee-kyung’s voice.

I hurriedly threw on a vest and went out.

"There are a lot of stars out. How about a walk?"

"Ah. That sounds good."

Not good at all.

Why would anyone want to take a walk in this freezing weather?

Especially when I need to get up at four in the morning, I should be sleeping as early as possible.

"If you go that way, there’s a really good spot to see the stars."

"Oh. Stars. I can’t see them in Seoul, so I guess I’m looking forward to it."

Not looking forward to it at all.

It’s not like I’ll get rice cakes from seeing stars.

They're just rocks floating in space. I'm far too jaded to be moved by them.

"Wow."

The black sky was densely packed with white stars, sparkling like jewels.

There were so many, it looked as if they might tumble down on top of me at any moment.

Back in my hometown, Sangju, I could see this many stars climbing up the hill behind the house.

As a child, I would lie down on a mat with my parents and gaze up at that scene.

"Aren’t they beautiful?"

"Yes. They’re beautiful."

"Hehe. I’m glad you still have enough feeling to appreciate the stars."

"Do I not look like the type?"

"Yes. I thought you’d think, 'It's not like seeing stars will help me write better, so what’s the point?' on the inside."

"Er, ahaha."

Stung, I coughed, but managed to laugh it off and escape the awkwardness.

"These stars are funny. Here in Mungyeong, they show their faces so clearly, but as soon as you go to Seoul, they disappear without a trace, don’t they?"

"Isn’t that because the air is bad in Seoul? And there’s a lot more light here."

At my logical reply, Author Oh Hee-kyung glanced at me.

"Yes, exactly. The stars stay where they are, but sometimes we see them, sometimes we don’t."

"Right, so it’s all because of air pollution and light pollution—"

"Gal!"

"?!"

"Ah, sorry. The dog over the mountain keeps barking."

"Ahem."

"Anyway, look closely."

"At what?"

"The stars. Watch carefully the ones that are sometimes visible, sometimes not."

I stared blankly at Author Oh Hee-kyung, who kept saying these mysterious things.

"Maybe it’s just me being an ordinary person, but I don’t really get what you mean."

"Let’s go to sleep. We have to get up again tomorrow."

Without any intention to explain kindly, Oh Hee-kyung spoke decisively.

Then she briskly strode down the mountain path by herself.

I followed after her.

The mountain was pitch black with not a single light, sending shivers up my spine.

"W-wait up, Author!"

---

A week had passed since I started the templestay.

Every day, I woke up at 3:50 a.m., did a cat wash, and attended the dawn prayer.

Now, I could even follow along with the monks’ chants pretty well.

Even with the thousand prostrations, I managed to spin my 108-bead mala three full times, finishing without a hitch.

My legs still trembled, of course, but thanks to tips from the friendly laywomen, I learned that if I braced my belly during the bows, my body hurt less, so my bowing form had become quite decent.

For some reason, I became a popular star at the dining hall.

Originally, it was self-serve, each person scooping food onto big, round, white plates,

But when it was my turn to get food, the dining hall laywomen would slip me an extra rice cake or a tangerine. Anyway, I always ended up with extra treats.

"Thank you, I’ll enjoy this."

With a light bow, I would eat (honestly, there was hardly anything left over), scraping my bowl clean with pickled radish as I finished my meal.

I would wash my dishes and utensils and put them away, then take a short walk with the three laywomen I’d become close to.

I’d gotten to know them well over the week through tea time together.

Listening to their life stories, I started joining in with advice and learning wisdom, which became rather fun.

"Laywoman Bomyungshim. I think your son will get married late."

"Married late? Oh come on, layman, even if it’s someone else’s life, that’s a bit much."

"Still, isn’t it better than him living with you, saying 'Make me food,' 'Clear my plate,' and so on?"

"Oh no! That’s not happening!"

"Hehe. Now you’re getting pretty good at teasing us, layman."

"Laywoman Hyungakshim, you’ll get through your cancer surgery just fine. You’ll be perfectly healed."

"Eh? How can you be so sure?"

"I pray for your health to Buddha every day while doing my thousand prostrations."

"Oh, my. If you say that, you’ll make me cry again!"

"So, layman, do you think you’ll be able to write now?"

"Hmm. I’m not sure. Without a phone or laptop, it’s hard to say."

"You have pen and paper!"

"Huh? You’re right."

"Dummy, such a dummy!"

"Wahaha."

Joking around with the laywomen always left me feeling lighter.

At first, I’d cleaned the outhouse completely suited up with a mask and gloves,

But now, I could do it with a light heart.

Fetching firewood for the furnace, prepping vegetables for meals, pounding rice for rice cakes, washing and drying the seat covers from the main hall, sweeping the yard with a broom taller than me—everything was new, but now, if I didn’t do these things, it felt like something was missing.

What I liked most about temple chores was that I didn’t have to think.

All this time, writing dramas, I’d never once had a moment when I wasn’t thinking.

Even on business trips or vacations, I’d always be agonizing over what drama to write next, or how to depict the next character.

This ‘absence of thought’ was the moment Author Oh said I needed.

On the night of the ninth day,

I climbed up to the spot where Oh Hee-kyung said the stars were clearest and quietly gazed up at the sky.

"Carefully watch the things that are sometimes visible, sometimes not."

A phrase that sounded like it could have come from a philosopher, ambiguous yet meaningful—I repeated it as I gazed at the stars in a daze.

Rustle—

I heard the sound of dry twigs snapping behind me.

"Who’s there?"