How dare you!

"How dare you!"

Kang-seok blankly looked up at the well-built man who suddenly shouted, "10 billion won!" His expression was utterly indifferent. It was as if he were saying, So what if it's 10 billion?

"If 10 billion isn't enough, I can offer 11 billion—no, even 15 billion!"

"...?"

"Hmph! I'm telling you to sell me that Radiant Tathāgata for the sake of my young lady. Is 15 billion not enough?"

The man's booming voice, sounding like something out of a different era, echoed in Korean. It matched his large build.

Watching nearby, Yang Seon-gu stroked his beard. Clad in a silk hanbok, in contrast to others in monk's robes or casual attire, he shook his head.

"It's hopeless. Completely hopeless."

Judging by Kang-seok's expression, he was going to reject the 15 billion offer as well. What a sight. A look of amazement appeared on Yang Seon-gu's face.

Kang-seok should only be nineteen, if I remember correctly. How can someone that young be so resolute?

Whenever the Bloom Art Museum or I tried to make offers for his piece Father, Kang-seok wouldn't even pretend to listen. That alone showed his deep attachment.

Now, seeing him react the same way to the Radiant Tathāgata, it became clear—he had unwavering confidence in every piece he made.

What's going to happen this time?

Yang Seon-gu, unable to hide his curiosity, continued stroking his beard.

Wait... did he foresee this situation and act accordingly?

Recalling the week before, Yang Seon-gu gazed forward. His expression shifted, reflecting the strange and remarkable scene unfolding before him.

Monks, attending the academic conference to present or listen to papers, clasped their hands in reverence as though they'd arrived at a holy site. Nearby, Kang-seok stood surrounded by people practically begging him to sell them the Radiant Tathāgata.

On one side, a peaceful, moving atmosphere. On the other, a battlefield where money was brandished like a weapon.

How could this all be happening in one place?

Yang Seon-gu clicked his tongue.

"Ahem! Hem! Ahem!"

While he was deep in thought, the burly man cleared his throat and began retreating—his offer presumably flatly rejected.

Not even blinking at 15 billion… scary kid, Yang Seon-gu thought, blinking in admiration.

Suddenly, the man shouted at the top of his lungs:

"You think you're all that just because people praise you a bit? Let's see how much that thing actually sells for!"

The voice rang sharply in Kang-seok's ears.

Aha—he's Chinese.

The man hadn't been in monk robes, making it hard to place him earlier. But now he had revealed both his nationality and intentions before disappearing into the distance.

When he introduced himself, he had pompously claimed to work for a wealthy patron. But now he walked away with his head practically kissing the ground.

Kang-seok, watching his retreating figure, turned his gaze elsewhere, utterly uninterested.

Now, it was monks wearing the robes of Korea's Jogye Order who cautiously approached.

This situation had repeated ever since Kang-seok was introduced as the artist behind the promotional Buddha statue.

Yang Seon-gu, observing Kang-seok handle the situation with ease, recalled the events from a week ago—when the Radiant Tathāgata had just been completed.

The moment Kang-seok stepped back to admire the completed Radiant Tathāgata, the statue was revealed to the world through a camera lens.

The Buddha sat atop a lotus-patterned pedestal, known as a lotus base, in a pose of spiritual endurance.

His right hand was raised in the Abhaya Mudra, palm forward at shoulder height, while the left hand extended downward in the Varada Mudra, fingers pointed in the opposite direction, palm outward.

The Buddha's eyes were only slightly open, his shoulders draped in a full monastic robe.

Viewers who locked eyes with the Buddha through the screen were so entranced, they forgot to type comments and just stared.

The pedestal wasn't the typical flat base, but a tapered, stem-like shape, further amplifying the intense presence in the Buddha's gaze.

Terrifying, yet beautiful.

The truth reflected in his eyes captivated the audience, who only began furiously typing comments again after a long silence. The chat flew by in crashing waves, nearly freezing the livestream.

[(₩50,000) Where can I see this in person????][(₩15,000) Please tell us the exhibition addressㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ][(₩20,000) You've finished sculpting—now please say somethingㅠㅠ We want to hear your voice!][(₩1,000) This is insane. Seriously. Kang-seok is a god. Is he even human? I'm losing my mindddddd!!!!!][(₩50,000) Where is this happening?][(₩100,000) I want to see it in person.^^][(I want to see it too.)][(When is the exhibit? Please tell us :)]

Most comments begged for the location of the exhibition.

[(₩3,000) Don't get your hopes up. Kang-seok's never responded to live chat. He won't this time either.]

But then, Kang-seok, having just finished the sculpture, turned toward the laptop where chat messages flew in. He stood beside Yang Seon-gu, pulled down his headband like a towel, and wiped his face roughly.

Then, after quickly reading the messages, he nodded casually and returned to the camera.

With beads of sweat still on his face, he leaned into the camera and spoke flatly:

"This piece was made for Buddhist believers and scholars worldwide, so I can't disclose the location. I hope you understand."

After a slight bow, Yang Seon-gu had laughed heartily, stroking his beard.

What a kid. So little desire for fame.

It made sense.

The value of the Radiant Tathāgata would be recognized by those in the Buddhist community, and the promotional statue was made for them. From that standpoint, turning away fans was reasonable.

Still, artists usually crave attention, even secretly.

They want people to care about their work—and by extension, about them.

But Kang-seok genuinely refused to reveal the location to prevent crowds from blocking access for the monks and scholars who would understand the piece.

"This was a livestream of the carving process. I hope to see you again soon, if possible."

And with that, he ended the stream without hesitation.

His face said it all—this was enough, for now.

What if Kang-seok had revealed the address?

Even without it, people from China, Myanmar, Thailand, and other Buddhist countries had come, begging to buy the Radiant Tathāgata.

Imagine if regular fans had flooded in too.

Just the thought made Yang Seon-gu shudder.

This was Seoul National University's campus—easily accessible via public transit. A flood of people would've swarmed the place. Foreign tourists might've come just to see it.

In that case, this delicate coexistence of spiritual awe and marketplace chaos would've been shattered.

In the worst-case scenario, the crowd might've been so unmanageable that the World Buddhism Academic Conference would have been forced to shut down entirely.

Did he really think all that through in such a short time? Or was he simply sincere about wanting only monks and Buddhist scholars to see the work—and it just happened to turn out well?

Yang Seon-gu stroked his beard.

"Anyway… I guess he really doesn't plan to sell the Radiant Tathāgata?"

While Yang Seon-gu pondered, many had approached Kang-seok only to be turned away. Offers ranged from 1 billion to over 10 billion won, but Kang-seok responded to them all with the same apathy.

What is he thinking…?

Just then, a group of monks in gray robes with colored kashayas approached Kang-seok. Yang Seon-gu's eyes widened.

It was Bongeun Temple—the same temple that had greatly helped in bringing the World Buddhism Academic Conference to Korea.

Leading them was Ven. Beop-gyeong, the head monk, smiling like a Hahoe mask.

The scene hushed the noisy crowd like a reverent procession.

Without lifting a hand or even glancing sideways, Beop-gyeong walked straight to Kang-seok.

"It is an honor to meet you, layman."

Layman (處士):A Confucian term for a man of letters who lives in seclusion without holding office.

Among Buddhist monks, it's also a respectful title for non-monastic men.

Kang-seok gave a slight bow.

"Nice to meet you, venerable sir."

"I've heard you attend Cheonghwa Arts High School."

"Yes."

"Cheonghwa—'pure blossom.' My teacher, the late Ven. Wolgok, who was once abbot of Bongeun Temple, gave that name. Hearing you attend Cheonghwa Arts High… feels like fate."

Wrinkles deepened around Beop-gyeong's always-smiling eyes. Kang-seok nodded, following his gaze.

Then, the monk's eyes slid past Kang-seok to the Radiant Tathāgata.

Beautiful.

The soft glow, like a lotus lantern, and the brilliant colors stirred a greedy desire in him.

If we installed that at Bongeun Temple… Where would be best? Somewhere the laypeople could see it often? During the Lantern Festival or Buddha's Birthday ceremony… Bongeun would outshine all others…

And that dazzling Radiant Tathāgata would become a throne for his position as abbot—and perhaps the crown jewel of Bongeun Temple's thousand-year legacy.

Behind his serene smile, his mind clacked away like an abacus.

Someone once said:

A temple, whether grand or humble, need only serve as a space for offering devotion to Buddha.

But that was only partly true.

To survive amid the vibrant cityscape of Seoul, Bongeun Temple needed more than history. It needed allure, prestige, and beauty to attract newcomers.

Only then would new followers arrive.

Why else did cardinals and popes commission grand paintings during the Renaissance?

Because sermons are hard.

Ordinary people have short attention spans and difficult lives. The vibrant imagery helped them absorb the divine message, interpret it intuitively.

That was how Ven. Beop-gyeong saw it, anyway—plus, it didn't hurt to bolster his own power.

Wearing his most benevolent smile, he looked at Kang-seok.

"Layman, the Radiant Tathāgata you created for this conference… We can only be grateful. Surely, no statue could better embody the Buddha's teaching of 'be a light unto yourself, take the Dharma as your light.'"

"…Thank you."

Kang-seok tilted his head, struck by a strange sense of déjà vu as he looked at the kindly face in front of him. There was something familiar about this person—something reminiscent of someone he knew. But who? Just as he was trying to piece together where he might've seen someone like this before—

Beopgyeong bowed deeply and joined his palms together in a formal gesture.

"Sir, thank you once again for creating this promotional Buddha statue in support of the upcoming World Buddhist Academic Conference, for which Bongeunsa Temple is serving on the organizing committee."

"Ah…"

Before Kang-seok could say anything, Beopgyeong had already straightened up and gestured to the people behind him, a serene smile on his face.

"Therefore, I brought up the idea to our monks at Bongeunsa: that even if it may be a stretch for us, we should be the ones to step forward. We cannot allow the Gwanghwa Tathāgata Buddha (光華如來佛) to be neglected or poorly maintained, dimming its light and causing grief to Buddhist scholars and monks alike…"

The monks standing beside Beopgyeong nodded fervently. Their eyes were glazed over with reverence as they gazed upon the Gwanghwa Tathāgata Buddha, almost as though they were witnessing divinity itself. One monk even looked as if he might drop to his knees and start praying right there in front of Kang-seok.

Though it was slightly smaller than the main Buddha statue at Seokguram, which stood 5 meters tall including its lotus pedestal, this statue was still impressive, measuring 4 meters with its base. In fact, if you considered the relatively low base shaped like a spinning top, the Buddha itself wasn't much smaller than the 3.78-meter Seokguram Buddha.

With its mystical balance, the natural white onyx patterns that looked like clouds, and the subtle translucence that made it glow as though it were self-illuminating, the sculpture was extraordinary.

Though only a week had passed since its completion, it radiated the timeless aura of centuries, even millennia, of truth and wisdom.

It was clearly destined to become a priceless and irreplaceable masterpiece.

And more than anything, even if he were criticized or insulted for it, Beopgyeong felt that his temple—Bongeunsa—needed to have the Gwanghwa Tathāgata Buddha. He felt he could not go a day without seeing it, joining his hands in prayer before it, sometimes even performing 108 prostrations. In front of this statue, he could forget his worldly troubles, clear his mind, and cast away the 108 sufferings of the past, present, and future.

The Gwanghwa Tathāgata Buddha felt like it could make that possible.

So when Beopgyeong casually suggested that Bongeunsa should purchase it, everyone nodded emphatically. No matter the cost, none of them would regret it as monks of Bongeunsa.

"Everyone agreed, as though our minds were one. As a temple with such a long-standing history, we couldn't ignore the significance of shaping future history as well. So we have all decided to move forward together."

After saying this, Beopgyeong once again bowed deeply with joined palms, and the monks behind him followed suit.

Kang-seok simply watched everything unfold. His face was as unreadable as ever.

It seemed like a standoff between those who smiled and one who did not—until Beopgyeong spoke again.

"It feels inappropriate to assign a price to the Gwanghwa Tathāgata Buddha you've carved, but after much deliberation, we carefully came up with a figure. Would you take a look?"

Beopgyeong, the head monk of Bongeunsa, quietly handed him a sheet of paper.

A figure too sensitive to speak aloud.

Kang-seok nodded and took the paper. As Beopgyeong's fingers released it, the number came into view.

One… two… three… four… five…33,000,000,000.

Nine zeroes, and two digits in front.₩33 billion. (Approximately $24 million USD.)

Kang-seok was reminded of a Ming Dynasty Buddha statue that had been sold for ₩32.7 billion to a Chinese tycoon building a museum in Hebei Province. This offer exceeded even that—by ₩300 million.

Looking at the paper, Kang-seok slowly lifted his head.

Beopgyeong still wore that same mask-like smile and murmured quietly:

"We recently received a large sum of money… perhaps it was all for this moment."

They had just received ₩41.75 billion in compensation for 748 pyeong of land in Gangnam, once owned by Bongeunsa but lost due to bureaucratic fraud decades ago.

In Buddha's teachings, there is cause (因) and condition (緣). Surely this was an example of that. Beopgyeong smiled.

₩33 billion. It didn't feel like a waste.

With the Gwanghwa Tathāgata Buddha, Bongeunsa would be reborn as Korea's foremost temple. Beopgyeong, who had grown up alongside Bongeunsa, saw the temple as an extension of himself. He was ready to spend ₩33 billion twice, thrice over if it meant elevating Bongeunsa to that level.

Just as such ambitions surged through Beopgyeong's mind, ambitions more befitting a monarch than a monk—

Kang-seok's expression finally changed.

A troubled look.

"I'm really sorry, but… selling the Gwanghwa Tathāgata Buddha to Bongeunsa might be a bit difficult."

"...What?"

What—what did he just say? For the first time, the smile broke from Beopgyeong's face. Like a crack running through a Hahoe mask, his eyes narrowed to slits and his mouth flattened.

Kang-seok scratched the bridge of his nose and continued.

"There's a place I really want to lend the Gwanghwa Tathāgata Buddha to."

"...You mean lend it?"

Kang-seok nodded.

For the first time, emotion flickered in his eyes. A gleam of desire that rivaled even Beopgyeong's.

Beopgyeong recognized that look.The look of someone with a grand vision.

Just what kind of vision could possibly outweigh ₩33 billion?

Staring at Kang-seok, bewildered, Beopgyeong slowly, reluctantly nodded. If someone couldn't be moved by the highest offer, there was little else that could be done.

'We could forcibly seize the statue, but then we'd lose any future opportunities.'

Kang-seok was still young.

He'd made the Gwanghwa Tathāgata Buddha at just nineteen. He might go on to create even greater masterpieces.

And since he said he merely wanted to lend it, there was still a chance they could obtain it someday.

Think long-term.

Think broadly.

Think big.

Calming himself with that mantra, Beopgyeong nodded and withdrew. The other monks from Bongeunsa followed suit, and Kang-seok watched them for a long time before finally turning around.

For the first time, he moved.

His gaze locked onto a target with unwavering focus.

And with no hesitation, he took a step forward.

It wasn't long before Kang-seok's footsteps stopped behind two figures.

Two monks from Thailand: Ananda and Pandin. They were standing in awe, silently gazing up at the Gwanghwa Tathāgata Buddha. Just looking at it filled them with reverence and healing.

They hadn't even noticed the commotion on the side. In this moment, it was just them and the statue. In prayer, in stillness.

Then, a quiet voice spoke behind them.

"Hello. Do you happen to speak Korean?"

Just in case they didn't, Kang-seok had opened a translation app on his phone. But Pandin, who spoke a little Korean, turned his head at the sound.

His face was dazed with disbelief.

"A little. What is... the matter?"

As he turned around, he froze in shock at the sight of Kang-seok.

The sculptor. The very man who'd created the Gwanghwa Tathāgata Buddha, whom a wealthy Chinese visitor had tried to persuade—unsuccessfully—to sell it for ₩10 or ₩15 billion.

"You… you're the sculptor! Why are you talking to us?"

Pandin even used formal speech in his confusion. Kang-seok smirked slightly. He had been waiting for this—waiting for the orange-robed monks from Thailand.

"It's nothing serious. But… do you know of the White Temple in Thailand, Wat Rong Khun?"

"Wat Rong Khun? White Temple?"

The iconic white temple in Chiang Rai, designed by Thai artist Chalermchai Kositpipat. Pandin looked at Kang-seok, astonished that he knew about it. Even Ananda turned around in surprise.

"I was wondering… if either of you know someone affiliated with it."

Kang-seok wanted to display the Gwanghwa Tathāgata Buddha at the White Temple, Wat Rong Khun.

The White Temple—pure white to represent Buddha's purity—was not yet a fully recognized temple. Construction on the monks' quarters and auxiliary buildings wasn't complete. Once finished, it would become an official temple.

Why was Kang-seok asking them about it?

Because Pandin and Ananda had already been designated as the head monks of the White Temple once it was formally established.

What were the odds?

A Buddha's teaching flickered in their minds:All things are shaped by cause and condition.

Pandin, stunned, quickly whispered to Ananda in Thai.

"(Master, master!)"

Ananda, surprised, replied in Thai:

"(I am affiliated with the temple… but why do you ask?)"

"I am affiliated. Why you ask?" Pandin hastily translated.

Kang-seok smiled gently and said,

"I would like to lend the Gwanghwa Tathāgata Buddha to that temple."

"He wants to lend it to White Temple!" Pandin translated again.

"(What? Why?)"

Why?

Ananda stared at Kang-seok in disbelief.

And Kang-seok, the youngest among them, with the most enlightened expression of them all, answered:

"Because that is where it will look the most beautiful."

A reason only a sculptor could give.