About Two Years and Ten Months Later
They sat together on a wide, flat stone just outside a quiet cave near Guidan Temple. Gami, her family huddled close, wrapped in silence, listening to the monk in red robes.
Beomso's words were gentle, but the weight of his story left them breathless. Not a single rustle, not a single cough disturbed the hush that followed his final sentence:
"…And now, within this very cave, Dongjin sits in meditation. Facing the wall. Seeking penance."
Only the whisper of wind among the trees remained for a long moment.
All the while, Beomso had been quietly watching Gami.
It was Sui who finally broke the silence. "Then… the Buddha that came to Master Dongjin in his dream—it wasn't real?"
Beomso quickly waved his left-hand side to side. "Not quite. Your brother Goi also believes Dongjin truly met the Buddha."
Still, his eyes never left Gami.
"That divine-looking layman of yours—he said the one who had gifted my junior those three relics must've been a demon. That he cursed Dongjin's mind the moment they met."
"What? A demon… gave him holy treasures?" little Dui asked, brows raised.
Beomso chuckled softly at the child's innocence. "Yes. They met on a ship returning from Kushan. Dongjin said the man was persistent, asked him endless questions, and eventually—Dongjin shared his dream."
Beomso glanced back at Gami.
"The man wept, moved beyond words. Then, claiming they were sacred relics from India, he offered Dongjin a rosary, a monk's robe, and a rice bowl."
Gami, flushed under the monk's gaze, turned her head slightly. "So the curse… was in the three objects."
Beomso nodded. "Goi turned his head, too—just like you. When Dongjin failed to describe the man at all. Nothing. Not even his face."
"…Except," he added, tapping his knee with his palm, "for one detail. He remembered golden bracelets on both wrists, each carved with dragons."
Beomso exhaled slowly. "That's when your husband said the curse must've begun—right when the gifts were accepted."
Then, with a sudden change of tone, he looked at Gami again. "You sigh often, don't you? A low fever at night? And you've been sleeping poorly, haven't you?"
Gami's eyes widened in surprise.
Beomso smiled. "It's the dryness in your lungs. The fire in your heart. The core of your heart has grown parched, and the yin of your lungs is thin."
Dui gasped. "Is my sister-in-law seriously ill, Master Beomso?"
Beomso gently placed a hand on Dui's head. "She is. It's a powerful illness… one born of deep longing for her husband."
He turned back to Gami. "You should steep lily bulb and sour jujube with ophiopogon root. Drink it warm, three times a day. It'll ease the unrest in your chest."
A pause passed. Dui tugged at Beomso's sleeve.
"…Though truthfully," Beomso added, chuckling, "I don't think she needs much medicine at all."
A breeze swept through the trees, quiet and cool.
Beomso looked down at his hands.
"Funny thing," he said softly. "They say husband and wife share one heart. Your Goi had the same symptoms. The same fire. The same dryness. You miss each other terribly."
For Gami and her family, that was the real cure. His words fell like warm sunlight, and with them, the ache lifted just enough to breathe.
Later, as they descended the mountain trail, the red-robed monk behind them, Gami suddenly stopped and turned her face to the sky.
"Cursed objects… and mind control," she murmured.
Zeali turned to her, hesitantly. "You don't suppose… our Goi was—"
Gami raised her left hand, silencing him gently.
"We don't know anything yet, Uncle Zeali."
And then, to herself, she whispered:
"Golden bracelets… with dragons…"
She walked on, quiet, as the wind rustled the leaves behind her.