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An Evening on the MARU(Veranda) — A Quiet Conversation with His Mother
As evening fell, sunlight slanted beyond the western wall.
Park Seongjin sat at the edge of the wooden veranda, letting the breeze wash over him.
It was the same spot where, as a child, he had once sat swinging his legs while waiting for his mother.
Unlike the wind of Guwol Mountain, the air here was gentle and warm.
Footsteps sounded from the doorway, and his mother came and sat beside him.
“Seongjin.”
“Yes.”
“Fourteen seok came in last month.”
Seongjin turned his head.
“That’s an increase.”
“It is. Can you guess why? Were you promoted?”
“No.”
He paused, then smiled.
Fourteen seok was the stipend of a Byeoljang, an auxiliary commander.
It was not a share meant for someone who did not yet hold that rank.
For a left-wing archer to receive such grain meant someone had quietly taken care of it.
It had to be his senior.
Though he had refused openly, the matter must have been settled behind the scenes.
“My senior brother serves in the Signal Guard. It seems he looked after it.”
His mother nodded.
“So, not a promotion.”
“I declined it. I said I needed more study.”
“You declined?”
“I lack the ability. If I rose without merit, it would burden others. And myself even more.”
A brief light passed through his mother’s eyes, then settled into a calm smile.
“He is a grateful man.”
Seongjin looked down from the veranda.
“My senior brother has become a great general. For his war merits. His heart has been restless lately. I should have stood by him, but I went into the mountains to study instead.”
His tone was even, but the grain of his words was firm.
“The affairs of the world can be met again. The study of my own being had to be done then. Still… to take fourteen seok—I should return and thank him properly.”
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His mother watched him for a long moment, then brushed his shoulder with the back of her hand.
Trust, not words, rested in that gesture.
“You will know what to do.”
After a pause, she added gently,
“I believe you.”
They fell silent.
The evening wind flowed across the veranda, and the cries of wild geese drifted from afar.
A single line of thought extended quietly within Seongjin.
Before the Worldly Road — The Meaning of Manhaeng (萬行)
The reason his master had sent him down became clearer.
It meant to study within the world.
There was no fixed form, no set duration, no assigned subject.
The length of staying and the object of learning had to be measured by himself.
As he gazed at the evening light, paths unfolded in his mind.
First came Wang Pilsun’s merchant guild.
A place he had belonged to before enlistment, work familiar to his hands.
Familiarity meant safety and ease, but also weaker renewal of learning.
Next overlapped the image of Song Isul.
A life ??ed through service—
building bridges, repairing roads amid sparse meals and worn shelters.
Little reward, little desire.
Yet close to the study of the heart’s grain.
Another path emerged: the life of a soldier.
Answering the call, stepping into command, placing the nation at the center of each day.
Promotion and authority would open early, but duty would settle as weight, shaping one’s life.
The figure of his senior brother, Yi Injung, embodied that weight.
Finally, his master’s words remained:
“Practice manhaeng.”
To live ten thousand actions.
To seek the Way wherever life places you.
The weight of that phrase required more thought.
He murmured softly, as if to himself,
“If only you had pointed a little more clearly.”
No single direction surfaced.
The mountain’s way was concise; its compassion revealed itself only after turning away.
Knowing this did not prevent a brief tightness in his chest.
There was also the option of asking Yi Injung—
a reply shaped by court, army, and people would surely return.
He set that choice aside for the next chapter.
When the time came, the call would arrive.
Even if he stepped into the nation’s place then, the current would continue.
For now, it was time to seek answers to what he had learned within the world.
Many paths arose at once, and his heart moved among them.
At that crossing, one thing became clear:
the hand choosing the path now moved in rhythm with his own breath.
Gaegyeong Morning
Gaegyeong’s mornings were always red.
Sunlight spilled over market roofs like a silver veil across the streets.
Merchants shouted.
Steam rose from roadside cauldrons.
Seongjin walked slowly through the center of it all.
The smells of oil, dust, and currency overlapped at his nose.
Wang Pilsun’s guild stood as it always had—
vast warehouses, carts, and workers moving as a single organism.
Even after the war, time here kept its flow.
There was learning to be found here.
Along with an unpaid debt of courtesy from the war years.
At the gate, a servant recognized him.
“Oh—aren’t you Commander Park? Back from the battlefield, I hear.”
“Yes. Is Lord Wang Pilsun within?”
“He is. Quite busy these days.”
The servant led him inside.
Wang Pilsun sat in the inner room, thinner than before, his gaze sharper.
Several account books lay open beside him.
“Seongjin. It has been a long time.”
“It has. I regret not visiting during the war.”
“Returning alive is enough.”
Seongjin bowed deeply.
“Still, it weighed on me. I received much kindness and could not repay it.”
Wang Pilsun lifted his teacup.
“The grace of war is fulfilled by survival. Adding more would be improper.”
Silence filled the room with tea fragrance.
“What path will you take now?” Wang Pilsun asked.
“I will continue my study. This time, within the world.”
A smile crossed Wang Pilsun’s face.
“The world is densely layered with learning. People choose harsh boundaries to deepen it.”
“A good choice. What do you wish to see here?”
“I want to observe people. How the heart changes amid profit and exchange.”
Wang Pilsun nodded.
“A keen eye. The human heart is sharper than battlefields, more tangled than mountain paths. Disappointment will come—but beyond it, principle stands.”
He closed the ledger.
“This is a battlefield run by profit. Desire is the blade; trust is the shield. Learn here, and your worldly study will not be lacking.”
“So you will accept me?”
“I will. On conditions.”
“Please speak.”
“First: take profit, but loosen attachment.”
“I will remember.”
“Second: even in loss, keep your heart upright.”
Seongjin bowed deeply.
Wang Pilsun rose and looked out over the market bathed in light.
“Profit appears as numbers, but beneath it lies the grain of the heart.
Read that grain, Seongjin. That reading is study.”
