Inside the Safe Zone, it was filled with iron and stone.

A statue made of iron.

A statue made of stone.

From the Stone Statue of Ksitigarbha to the giant cross made of iron.

It looked more like a place related to religion than the military.

This must be what a Pantheon looks like, gathering gods from East and West.

However, a closer look revealed that it was a space prepared for survival rather than for faith.

The countless ominous iron objects scattered around were coldly screaming that this place needed weapons and that one must confront something with those weapons, all while the selected people from various religions were dressed in military uniforms.

Those who operated under the title of Military Chaplain had holy water and purifying water in their belts, while electric shockers fashioned like chokers around their necks showed their resolve to subdue and exorcise evil spirits should possession occur at any moment.

Could it be because of that?

The faces of the religious individuals, who should be filled with faith and peace, were hardened by tension and fear.

The faces of the commander leading the soldiers and the military chaplain checking the exorcism supplies were filled with a sense of crisis—’a big problem will occur if we don’t check carefully.’

But perhaps because the sun was still shining?

The violence that should manifest when a person’s life was threatened seemed to be absent.

“Welcome to SP-103.”

Under the guidance of a smiling commander who welcomed them, they were allowed to stay in a seemingly tidy living quarter, enjoying meals prepared by the cooks as they checked around the unit.

Of course, the “checking” didn’t entail accessing military secrets like the armory or storage; it merely included areas like living quarters, fitness rooms, and cyber knowledge information rooms.

The personnel from the military rights center meticulously checked, through surveys and interviews, how the soldiers and officers were living, whether their rights were being violated, if they were not being used as expendables, and if they were exposed to cruelty. If any suspicious situations arose, they made efforts to determine the truth by digging through documents.

And while people from the military rights center were engaged in such efforts,

Jinseong remained detached from the group.

While the group conducted the surveys, Jinseong was busy inspecting the yoke.

When the group carefully examined the survey results, Jinseong was spreading salt in a sunny spot to absorb vital energy.

And when the group was conducting interviews, he stored holy water obtained from the military chaplain by mixing it with salt in a plastic bottle.

Only he stood out.

That sole individuality raised questions.

“What’s that person doing?”

“We have no clue.”

“I heard they placed a person from a big corporation here… But it’s not like they’re just sight-seeing, trying to build a resume, or goofing around… What are they up to?”

“Ah, just ignore it. You wouldn’t want to unwittingly get involved in whatever strange thing that is, would you?”

“But still, shouldn’t we at least know what they’re doing?”

“Who knows? It’s not like they’re planning terrorism… Maybe they’ve heard some odd superstition. I mean, they say a big corporation landed them here, so will they cause any trouble?”

“Cough.”

The people in the Safe Zone began to gaze at Jinseong with curiosity.

The commander openly inquired to the group about what Jinseong was, while the soldiers hesitated to approach him filled with curiosity, unable to muster the courage to speak with his bizarre appearance.

Meanwhile, the military chaplains kept a close watch, wondering if Jinseong was attempting to imitate magic and engage in strange activities.

“To my eyes, that young man’s appearance very much resembles that of a shaman. What do you think, priest?”

“It does seem to hold some peculiar traits reminiscent of shamans I’ve encountered while in Rome. But if you’re asking whether he’s actually practicing magic… well, I’m not sure. The shamans I know typically carry far more impressive items than those meager things.”

“Impressive things? There’s a huge golden pyramid over there; how can you call that meager? Are you implying that priests consider gold as worthless as stone?”

“Seeing gold as worthless should be something fitting for a monk who has transcended greed, don’t you think? Hahaha.”

The blue-eyed foreign priest suspected Jinseong was a shaman, while a monk in his thirties, who had fled from Tibet to Korea, looked at Jinseong’s attire with a strange gaze.

The two whispered to each other in Korean about Jinseong.

“The golden pyramid, that strange outfit. The possibility of him being a shaman is high. I heard he’s the second-generation heir of a chaebol… Since this place, the Safe Zone, is swarming with evil ghosts and spirits, they might have thought a shaman would be very helpful, hence his placement here.”

“I share the same view as you, priest. While this place is dreadfully horrific, it could indeed be a place a spiritual capable person or shaman would want to visit. After all, hell is subject to the heart; if one can let go of their pain and sorrow, any place can turn into paradise. Namu Amitabul, Kuan Yin Bodhisattva.”

“However, judging by his pretty face and seemingly well-built body, he looks like someone who’s just starting on the path of magic. His accomplishments likely aren’t very high.”

“Or he might have shown interest in magic while exploring various paths. With wealth and power, one can easily splash out and invest generously even from the very beginning.”

“If that’s the case, I hope he sees the harsh reality of this Safe Zone and abandons the path of magic. It would be truly cruel for a young lamb to walk a path filled with suffering that’s not genuine sacrifice.”

“Namu Amitabul, Kuan Yin Bodhisattva.”

Countless people discussed Jinseong.

During dinner, soldiers and officers gathered in the restaurant, chattering about Jinseong, while military chaplains checking equipment debated whether he was a shaman or not, and the personnel from the military rights center expressed their disdain, wondering which major corporation had inserted such a strange person into their midst.

But Jinseong didn’t pay any mind to their chatter.

He simply continued with what he had to do.

He skipped dinner, soaked the cloth he brought in saltwater, and repeatedly performed the grueling task of igniting Samādhi True Fire to dry it out completely. As the saltwater evaporated over and over, the cloth itself became pickled in salt, continuing until crystals of salt formed all over it.

He meticulously coated even the iron yoke until not a spot was left bare, shedding his tattered clothing before grinding several pills he had brought into powder, mixing them into water to form a muddy substance.

He utilized a thick liquid that bore a bitter smell and the scent of cinnamon to spread over the outside of the rags, and as they were all coated, he ignited Samādhi True Fire to quickly dry them. The rags then resembled raincoats that had rolled in the mud, and when Jinseong covered himself with them, he appeared almost like a beggar one would see in a developing country’s slums.

With the rags now in place, having completed his indoor tasks, he sprang up and headed towards the darkened outside, starting to turn each piece of firewood he brought into charcoal. The Samādhi True Fire rising from his hands swiftly dried out the wood, reduced its volume, and blackened it.

As he repeated this task, the volume of firewood he had brought decreased dramatically, fitting into just one sack.

Jinseong placed the sack filled with firewood and the now much reduced sack of salt on his yoke, topping it with the golden pyramid. He then securely tied everything with the cloth he had wrapped around the yoke, looking up at the sky.

The darkness had descended upon the sky.

In the pollution-free northern sky, stars were densely embedded.

The moon, hiding behind the clouds, twinkled faintly like it had been smashed to powder and scattered, some stars forming clusters while others twinkled separately, attempting to converse with him.

Jinseong gazed at the stars.

The North Star.

Constellations formed by stars connecting along invisible lines.

Unrecognized groups of stars scattered about.

Stars with only the names assigned by scholars.

And the pitch-black void between those stars.

He only observed.

And in his observation, the stars too observed him, and as they recognized each other’s existence, they bestowed upon him significant meaning.

The shifting clouds obscured the stars, and as the clouds—rich with the colors of the universe—dipped into darkness, they formed softer spaces to organize the scattered stars. Stars peeking through the clouds reduced to mere dots, and as those dots were connected, they formed the shape of a rat.

A rat.

An animal representing water.

It corresponds to the north and signifies the deep night.

The rat held a shape balanced neither to the left nor the right, standing upright.

This signified the very middle of the hour of the rat (子時).

Jinseong realized that this would be the perfect time to escape the Safe Zone unnoticed.