Minho's voice was low, almost careful.
"I know you're angry that you didn't win the medal."
Nau Rin's tone remained steady, but her eyes sharpened like glass catching light.
"Yes, I was disqualified. That was my effort—every drop of sweat, every hour I gave up. But…" She paused, her jaw tightening. "I'm angrier at you than at that."
Minho blinked, caught off guard.
"I had no idea something like this would happen."
"Neither did I," Nau Rin cut in, her words swift and clean. "But you should have listened to the others. We followed along like little kids lured by candy, too blind to question where we were being led."
Silence settled between them.
Minho lowered his head, shame flickering across his face.
"You're right… I understand. You have every right to be angry with me. Be as angry as you want."
Nau Rin let out a slow breath, the sound heavy with something deeper than anger.
"You still don't understand what I'm saying."
Minho looked up quickly, unease creeping into his voice.
"What don't I understand?"
"You don't understand anything," she replied, the words final and unyielding.
She turned and walked away, her steps firm against the pavement.
From behind her, Minho's voice rose, breaking the fragile air between them.
"Then make me understand!"
But Nau Rin did not look back. She kept walking, her figure growing smaller until the distance swallowed her whole.
A pale shard of dawn slipped through the kitchen window at five in the morning, thin and metallic against the quiet room. Nau Rin stood alone in her running clothes, a glass of water cool in her hand, her reflection faint in the darkened pane.
At that moment, the bedroom door eased open with a soft click. Mrs. Go emerged, hair slightly tousled, her features still softened by sleep.
"Why are you up so early?" she murmured.
She poured herself a glass of water and leaned against the counter. Nau Rin moved to the table and sat down, folding her hands together.
"Your competition is over, isn't it? Why aren't you resting?" Mrs. Go asked gently.
Nau Rin lowered her gaze.
"I couldn't sleep. I thought I'd go for a run." She hesitated, her voice thinning. "Actually… I was eliminated."
Mrs. Go's lips curved into a warm, steady smile.
"It's all right. You did your best. That's what matters." She took a sip of water. "And there's no need to wake up this early. Try to get proper rest if you can."
Nau Rin nodded.
"Just for today. Oh—there's a Buddhist temple up ahead past the main road. It looks like only one monk stays there. It's very quiet."
Mrs. Go's expression shifted, becoming more thoughtful.
"A place without people… you never know. It's better to be careful. Perhaps you shouldn't go there again."
"He didn't seem like a bad person," Nau Rin replied softly. "And there's a spring there—water that comes straight from the ground. It's incredibly clear."
"Is that so?" Mrs. Go considered this for a moment. "Then let's go together next weekend."
Nau Rin shook her head.
"You probably wouldn't be able to. The stairs leading up to the temple are steep—very steep. And long. Almost a thousand steps, I think. Besides, it's not allowed to be taken away." She reached for a small container and slipped it into her bag. "I'll just go and come back. I might bring some of the spring water."
Mrs. Go sighed, concern threading through her voice.
"Even if he isn't a bad person, stay alert."
"I will," Nau Rin said.
With that, she slung her bag over her shoulder and stepped out of the house, the fragile light of morning stretching before her like an unanswered question.
She jogged at an easy pace until the staircase came into view again, rising like a spine along the hillside. This time she had run straight there without detouring, and the climb felt less punishing than before. By the time she reached the top, her breath came fast but steady, her hand resting briefly on the cool stone edge.
As she stood catching her breath, the monk stepped out from the temple grounds, robes shifting softly with his movement.
"How many steps are there exactly?" Nau Rin asked.
"Exactly one thousand," the monk replied, his voice calm and unhurried.
Nau Rin shook her head, doubt flickering across her face.
"No. I counted nine hundred and ninety-nine."
"I have climbed these steps my entire life," he said evenly.
"I've gone up them many times too. No matter how I count, it's nine hundred and ninety-nine," she insisted, a stubborn spark in her eyes.
A faint smile touched the monk's lips.
"Then perhaps you miscounted."
Nau Rin glanced around at the quiet courtyard, the wind brushing lightly through the trees.
"Every time I come here, there's no one. Is it just because it's early?"
The monk drew in a slow breath, something heavier settling into his expression.
"In recent years, more people have chosen to attend church instead. Fewer and fewer come here with each passing year." He paused. "Now, perhaps one or two visitors arrive from time to time."
"Ah, your marketing is weak," Nau Rin said lightly.
The monk looked at her, puzzled.
"Marketing… what is that?"
"It means promotion," she explained. "The Christian churches do their promotion very well. In our case, they show up at our door once a month to ring the bell, and they hold sermons every single week. Some even provide training for children. Their members donate regularly, too. Therefore, you should use some kind of media or means of communication to make your temple known to people."
The monk shook his head, a gentle frown on his face.
"To promote…? Faith is about seeking belief and inner peace."
"But if more people knew about your temple, you wouldn't have to sit here all alone. Wouldn't it be nice to have many disciples?" Nau Rin added. Then, pulling out a small container, she said, "By the way, may I take some of this spring water with me?"
The monk appeared thoughtful, his hand moving slightly in an almost imperceptible gesture. As Nau Rin poured the water, he leaned closer.
"So… how would you promote it?" he asked.
"You need something that makes the temple special," she said, carefully placing the water in her container. "A story, or a legend—people like that sort of thing."
The monk pressed his chin with his hand, eyes distant as he thought.
"There is an old story… would you like to hear it?"
Nau Rin set the container on the wooden table and sat down. The monk took a seat across from her, his posture calm but intent.
"When I was a child," he began softly, "I once heard this story from an elder monk…"
The temple seemed to hold its breath, the sunlight spilling softly through the windows, as the story began to weave itself into the quiet morning.