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They led us to an open space near the road.

It was a vast area that seemed to have been used for various purposes without any special designation.

“Hmm. A camping car.”

There stood a gigantic camping car.

It looked luxurious at first glance, like a double-decker bus converted into one; inside, where the curtains weren’t drawn, I spotted furnishings that rivaled a decent hotel.

On the surface of the bus, there was a prominently painted dagger-like pattern, with curves that looked more decorative than lethal.

“Khirpan, huh?”

Khirpan.

A symbol of Sikhism.

It’s a dagger that Sikhs carry with them, representing honor, strength, and indomitable spirit.

“Khirpan, khirpan,”

Jinseong paused for a moment, staring blankly at the camping car.

Bole so nihal, Sat Sri Akal!

The speaker shall be blessed.

Oh, the truth of the great God!

“God’s, eternal, immortal truth.”

As Jinseong observed the inscription on the bus, he nodded and headed towards the camping car.

Instead of stepping right in through the open door, he took off his shoes and socks.

He then placed the hideous necklace made of animal heads that hung from his neck carefully on top of his discarded shoes.

That was his way of showing respect for Sikhism.

“Seeker, here’s a turban…”

“It’s fine.”

But his consideration ended there.

Jinseong did not accept the turban and hat offered by the Sikh.

He wasn’t trying to be rude on purpose; he just had this habit from his mercenary days.

It was his custom not to accept items from strangers.

‘Especially clothing.’

He might accept food in a place that values hospitality, but…

It was better to refuse clothing altogether.

‘Food is often goodwill, but clothing isn’t always.’

Poison could easily be hidden in clothes.

Items may be traps using magic or alchemy.

There are ill-intentioned religious motives… often linked to human sacrifices and cannibalism, to name a few.

Or it might lead to disarmament or induce carelessness.

So, Jinseong didn’t accept what they offered.

“Please come in.”

The sage who invited him didn’t blame Jinseong for his choice.

He simply urged him in a polite tone.

Hearing this, the Sikhs seemed to distance themselves, as if their role was done here.

No.

Rather than being diligent as guides… yes.

They were giving space for the sage and Jinseong to converse comfortably.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Seeker… Park Jinseong.”

And Jinseong was able to face the old man inside the camping car.

A shiny bald head.

An extremely long white beard that drooped down to the floor.

Dressed rather shabbily with a simple cloth barely covering his intimate parts, which didn’t suit the luxurious camping car at all.

The name of that old man was…

“I too am truly pleased to see you, Ashutosh Singh.”

Ashutosh Singh.

In India, he was known as the ‘Sage of Flames.’

A shaman of the Sikh faith.

A seeker of the spirit.

One who walks with quiet flames.

A shaman from Sikh who could manipulate fire, he had made tremendous efforts to save powerless children during the Third World War before the return, earning titles such as ‘Flame that Protects Children’ and ‘Lantern that Safeguards the Future,’ gaining respect from many.

Posthumously, he was respected as a person of great influence in India, included in textbooks regardless of religion, race, or class.

And…

“It’s my first time seeing you in person, Seeker.”

“Ah, indeed. It seems so.”

Indirectly, they had once been connected through a shaman.

“The one message you delivered back then left a deep impression on me. Truly it did.”

“Indeed. I offered a bit of advice from my limited knowledge, and I am glad it led in a positive direction.”

In the past, in Russia, Ella had intertwined with a shaman.

That shaman had kidnapped Ella in order to give birth to another sister residing within her body and was about to perform the Ritual of Magic.

Before the return, the magic succeeded, leading to Ella’s demise and the birth of Anastasia.

However, due to Jinseong’s intervention, Ella lived, and Anastasia was able to acquire a new body.

At that time, Anastasia existed but was in a state of having not existed.

She was present but couldn’t leave a trace in the world because she hadn’t received a name, so Jinseong tried to bestow her one.

However, he did not wish for her to meet the same death as before.

Thus, he intended to give her a name that wouldn’t bind her…

Then that Sage of Flames, Ashutosh Singh, spoke through Anastasia and Ella:

“Der Gevatter Tod. Ha ha. What a brief yet powerful message it is.”

Godfather Death.

A topic on influence.

Jinseong did not overlook that topic and ultimately made a choice.

He blessed her, leading her down a path she had not taken and named her Anastasia.

“It’s just my small opinion. But it was the Seeker’s privilege to heed it and make a choice.”

Ashutosh slowly opened his previously closed eyes.

White eyes.

Had snow fallen on them, piling up?

His left iris was a whitish-gray.

With a focusless left iris that seemed coated by a white film moving along with his clear right eye…

There their gazes met.

White and amber irises.

The amber eyes met Jinseong’s.

“Seeker, Park Jinseong. I see flames in your eyes. I can see them clearly…”

It was a meeting of flames and flames.

The spark that resided in Jinseong’s eyes flickered, dancing like a moth drawn to the flame.

It swayed and burst into existence, only to vanish in an instant, just like that.

A tiny spark, even while bouncing in the wind, did not forget to burn itself, as if countless fireflies gathered to dance, moving magically and representing his mental imagery.

Flames, flames, flames.

Blazing flames.

Yet only potential, leaving visible traces.

It rises and vanishes, only to appear again.

Even so, its true essence resides deep within, igniting as immaterial flames, not substance.

“Ash and fire. Indeed.”

And Jinseong could also see the flames that Ashutosh possessed.

Eyes are the window to the heart.

If they had turned wholly white, what could that mean?

If one who holds flames has a white gaze, what might it signify?

His left eye painted a picture of ashes.

Burning and burning until finally becoming a white ash.

That piled-up ash was now challenging to clear away.

Overwhelming the space where flames ought to reignite, it crowded and filled every nook.

Thus, ashes settled in place, covering the gaze entirely.

However, that was ash caught in a window.

What lies behind that ash?

What could be beyond the opaque white window?

What kind of flames might be burning?

‘Light.’

The answer lies in his right eye.

That luminous amber, so clear it seemed to emanate warmth.

Was it a bonfire?

A hearth fire?

Was it a flame that warms the home?

A fire from the logs that brightens the darkness, keeping beasts at bay?

Yet its essence was for humanity’s sake.

It serves to sustain those who seek warmth and protect those in need.

Thus one can discern.

That fire is meant for humanity.

To help those yearning for warmth and protection, the flame finally burns away itself into ashes.

Ah.

O flame.

A fire that protects and assists, ultimately turning into ashes.

Jinseong began to understand a little of Ashutosh’s essence now, at this moment when they met face to face, something he hadn’t grasped before the return.

“Sage of Flames. Your essence is not fire; rather, it is everything that can be done with that fire.”

Ashutosh slightly smiled at Jinseong’s words.

Deep wrinkles formed, and his eyes curved into a gentle line.

It bore unspoken gratitude, filled with warmth for one who understood him.

“I too have a rough understanding of the flame within the Seeker’s heart. Your flame is close to a symbol…”

Ashutosh then shut his eyes briefly before speaking once more, after a moment of silence.

“Seeker, please stop going to China.”

He said.

 

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