[sample translations]kim jin myung, the last holy book eng by LTI Korea Library

Sample Translations

Jin-Myung Kim

The Last Holy Book E ng l i s h

Book Information

The Last Holy Book (최후의 경전) Saeum Publishing corp. / 2010 / 6 p. / ISBN 9788993964189 For further information, please visit: http://library.klti.or.kr/node/772

This sample translation was produced with support from LTI Korea. Please contact the LTI Korea Library for further information. library@klti.or.kr

The Last Holy Book Written by Kim Jin-Myung

Author’s Notes On the Korean peninsula are found some of the world’s biggest, most well-preserved dolmens, and their numbers account for more than half of all dolmens around the world. Various Chinese history books and religious texts document that a land of noble men already existed in the east before the time of Emperors Yao and Shun (around 2400-2300 BC) and that a certain Chinese monarch visited the land to learn proper courtesy. In Mencius, King Sun was identified as coming from among the Dong-ee (“Eastern Bowmen”), and the Shiji (Historical Records) documents that the ancient emperors from the Yellow Emperor to Emperor Shun had the same family name. The “land of noble men in the east” and “Dong-ee” certainly refer to Korean folk, but texts of Korean history have not taken these seriously. It is a pity that knowledge of ancient Korean history has been lost, and that Koreans are unsure of their identity because of a 3000-year gap between the familiar legend of Dangun, telling of the foundation of a great country more than 5000 years ago, and the beginning of Korean history about 2000 years ago as described in textbooks. When I was looking at the paintings of ancient Egypt in the British Museum, I was surprised by what seemed to be yin-yang symbols filling all of the space around the paintings. I had thought that these symbols were derived purely from Asian philosophy, so their appearance in Egyptian paintings from 5000 years ago caused me cultural shock. That was not my only shock. When I learned about new research on the Sumerians, who lived even before the Egyptians, at the dawn of human history, something flashed through my mind.

The Sumerians are thought by some scholars to have been smaller than the western peoples around them, to have had black hair and a relatively flat back of the head, to have used an agglutinative language like Korean, and to have come from the east over the Zagros Mountains. These facts interlocked in my mind with the mysteries of ancient Korean history. There are several rather mysterious numbers in the world. There are 72 angels in Jewish Kabbalah mysticism and 72 pagodas in Javaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Borobudur Temple, and the kung fu of Chinaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Shaolin Temple amounts to 72 martial arts. There are 108 stone statues in the temple of Angkor Wat, and 10,800 bricks were required for a Vedic Agnicayana ritual. Also, the Rigveda consists of 10,800 stanzas, while the Rosicrucians decide upon the next step in their plans every 108 years, and Buddhism talks about 108 kinds of anguish. Such numbers not only appear in Asian mythology or architecture. Numbers like 72, 108, 216, and 432 often appear in various old texts and ancient architectural works around the world. I thought about the meaning of 666 appearing as the number of the satanic beast in the Book of Revelation. Why is this number 666? The Book of Revelation also speaks of 144,000 people who are saved. Why the number 144,000? Surprisingly, the number 144,000 also appears in Gyeok-Am-Yu-Rok, a point that was key to finding the Holy Text of Chun-Bu of the new religion Chun-Bu-Gyo. With all my heart and strength, I traced these mysterious connections unsolvable by science and reason. In particular, I focused my research on the time when Korean history and world history met, namely, asking if the time of Hwanin, before Dangun and Hwanung, had any connection to Sumerians and Jews. Astonishing. Simply astonishing. The ancient time of Korean history was mysteriously hidden yet clearly evident. The

Book of Revelation in the Bible and the Korean prophetic text Gyeok-Am-Yu-Rok had common ciphers, while the Jewish Kabbalah and the Korean Holy Text of Chun-Bu used the same numbers and principles.

I believe that a novel should be more truthful than known facts. Facts are the tip of the iceberg, while the truth lies hidden under water. Facts are visible but don’t show the truth, the rest of the iceberg. History is much the same. Last year, in my novel The Writings Forbidden for a Thousand Years, I showed the proven accuracy of the records in the book Dangun Segi, which had been in doubt, and disclosed that the name “Han” used for the Korean nation was already found in the Classic of Poetry (Shi Jing), a Chinese text documenting the time of ancient China 4000 years ago. Now I strongly believe that the study of Korean history should change direction. We should find out the identity of those three heavenly treasures, the Chun-Bu-In, that Hwanung received from Hwanin, and also the secret of the 81 characters of the Holy Text of Chun-Bu, which is regarded as most difficult to decipher. Also, we should find out the connection between Gyeok-Am-Yu-Rok, written before Christianity was introduced to Korea, and the Osiris numbers found in the Bible. We should disclose the reason for the same number of outer go board squares as the number of Chinese ideograms in Shin-Ji-Bi-Sa (a lost record from the Goryeo Dynasty that prophesies the future based on feng sui) and the same number of inner go board squares as the number of Chinese ideograms in Gae-Mul-Gyo-Hwa-Gyeong (scriptures said to be given by the founder of Goguryeo). And we should also find out the reason why these numbers, when multiplied together, become the Osiris number found in various places in the world. Tracing these mysterious numbers, we can illuminate the connection between Korean civilization and ancient world civilizations, as well as the root of Koreans, whose identity has

not yet been completely revealed. This novel was completed after deep reading and thought. In particular, going over all the extant interpretations of the Holy Text of Chun-Bu, I realized that the interpretations are not important themselves, but that through reciting, one can receive the textâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s spirit naturally. I want to express my special thanks to two of many scholars. First, Choi Dong-hwan has interpreted the Holy Text of Chun-Bu and Sam-Il-Sin-Go (Enlightening of the Three-One-God) based on elaborate material findings and deep insights, and anyone who tries to interpret the Holy Text of Chun-Bu has to go through his books. For readers interested in the Holy Text of Chun-Bu after reading this novel, I would like to recommend his Chun-Bu-Gyeong and SamIl-Sin-Go. The other scholar is Jo Ha-seon. A young man with a pure heart, he helped me approach the Holy Text of Chun Bu a step further with his Holy Text of Chun-Bu, Unveiled, showing new insights into the common characteristics between Kabbalah and the Holy Text of ChunBu. There are dozens of books written about the Holy Text of Chun-Bu, but I received the most inspiration from the books by these two. I want to express my thanks to Yi Dae-sik, President of Seum Publishers, and Han Myung-sun, designer of Best Collection Series, for their effort to make my manuscript easily readable and to bring it out this spring. I also want to express my appreciation to Kim Segwon, who always supports me with passion, and to Yi Seung-hyun and Kim Hwa-young for their help.

Spring of 2010, at the foot of Young-du Mountain in Jecheon

The Secret of 13

The internet. It is like Aladdin’s lamp. Everything exists there. No, not only things existing in this world. The real charm of the internet is that even something that does not exist in the world can be found there. Inseo, who was skilled in English from growing up in America during his childhood, happened to access an American site, The Secret of 13, while searching for the preColumbian history of the Americas in the 13th century. “It’s so pathetic!” There were so many stories about the Friday the 13th or the curse of 13th floor, all of which nauseated him, and any movie, game, or joke with such a title was usually little more than trivial. Growing jaded with the site, Inseo was about to leave it when something caught his eye.

Has Fermat’s Last Theorem really been proved? On the basis of research by dozens of mathematicians, Andrew Wiles took several hundred pages to prove the theorem, but is there no other simpler, ingenious way to solve the problem as Fermat must have done? Can’t history give us another genius like Fermat?

Inseo was not particularly interested but did not want to just skip a puzzle. He hated to think there was something he had not thought about. Fermat’s Last Theorem derives from the Pythagorean theorem, which states that the square of a right triangle’s hypotenuse is equal to the sum of the squares of the other two sides. Taking note of this theorem, Fermat asked if such a relationship existed not only for the

square but also for the cube, and he claimed to have proved this impossible. According to the Pythagorean theorem, if the three sides of a right triangle are the integers 3, 4, and 5, the sum of 3 squared and 4 squared is the square of 5. The Pythagorean school in ancient Greece discovered that many such triads of numbers exist. For example, there are 5, 12, and 13; or 20, 21, and 29; or in the case of bigger numbers, 99, 4900, and 4901. Even bigger numbers than these have been found using supercomputers, and more will be found in the future. But in the case of cubes, as suggested by Fermat, the question as to whether such natural numbers exist was not an easy one. For over 350 years, many mathematicians have tried to disprove Fermat’s Last Theorem, but have failed to do so. From such continuous failure, one could conclude that there are no such natural numbers, namely, that Fermat’s conjecture is right, but for mathematicians, proof is not so simple. Mathematicians cannot just say, “We tried to substitute all the numbers but could not find any that worked.” For them, logical proof is vital, and they always have to prove something right or wrong. That is characteristic of mathematics. Fermat had scribbled in the margin of a book that he had proved this theorem valid, but he had not included the proof. “I have a truly marvelous demonstration of this proposition which this margin is too narrow to contain.” This remark by Fermat, sounding so confident, left a sore spot in the history of mathematics. Mathematicians around the world latched onto this problem. Not only mathematicians, but also other renowned geniuses racked their brains trying to prove it right or wrong. The fact that there was such a theorem, and that somebody had claimed to prove it, was a challenge to them, but for several centuries, nobody could prove Fermat right or wrong. The challenge was not only for geniuses. Fermat’s Last Theorem was familiar to the

general public and students. People must have heard of it at least once in a mathematics class, and those confident in math might have taken on the challenge of proving the theorem right or wrong. In subway stations in New York City, one could find humorous scribbles like this on the wall: “I proved Fermat’s Last Theorem. But because a subway train is coming, I can’t write it down.” Anyway, even though people failed to prove or disprove the theorem, most did not think Fermat had lied. Fermat’s various scribblings in the margins of Arithmetica, a text stemming from ancient Greece, flashed with the inspiration of a brilliant genius. Even Euler, a king of mathematics, took 7 years to solve a theorem easily proved by Fermat. Most, therefore, could not take the claim as a lie. Even if Fermat had not solved the problem, people could not pretend as if nothing had been claimed. Regardless of whether he had proven the theorem or not, the fact that such a problem had been tossed to humanity was itself a problem. As long as there was a mathematical problem, the mathematicians had to prove it either right or wrong. But over the several passing centuries, all the geniuses of the world had to swallow their hurt pride. Even Gauss and Euler were no exceptions, so people like Russell and Einstein did not need to feel embarrassed. Inseo reviewed the influence of Fermat’s Last Theorem on the history of mathematics, and caught up by an unusual curiosity, he could not help knocking on the door of the site titled The Secret of 13: “Welcome to The Secret of 13. First solve this problem. Only to those who solve this problem will the secret of 13 be revealed.” After this somewhat unpleasant greeting, a problem was given immediately:

“A cicada becomes an imago after spending 17 years in the earth as a larva. But it dies within just a few days. Why does such a strange thing happen?” The site was enticing, but not friendly like other sites, and there was a weird vibe. The site had no commercial purpose, which led Inseo to imagine the site creator either a bored individual with a lot of time to kill or a nerd. The tone sounded a bit arrogant, but the question itself piqued his curiosity. Initially attracted by the strange atmosphere, Inseo thought about possible answers for a while, but finally closed the site. The three questions about cicadas, Fermat’s theorem, and the secret of 13 had been thrown out for people to think about, but none of the three was easily approachable. He could not fathom why these particular questions were asked, but the site creator must be someone of high intelligence. Losing interest in staring at the computer screen any further, Inseo turned it off. But when he did so, he felt his wounded pride sharply. Despite having encountered only a few riddling sentences at the site The Secret of 13, he was seized by feelings of inferiority over his lack of understanding. He threw himself fully clothed onto his bed. He had been treated as a genius from childhood and thought he could do anything if he wanted to, but his pride was now smarting. “What is the reason?” he muttered. “Why do they . . . ?” Getting back up, Inseo pulled an encyclopedia from the shelf. Thinking he might find something there, he skimmed the entry on cicadas, but to no avail. The life cycle was well described and illustrated with pictures, but no explanation was given as to why cicadas had to live as larva for 17 years in the soil only to emerge and die after a single summer.

The 17 Years of Cicadas

The next morning, Inseo went to see a biology professor. “You’re asking why a cicada larva spends 17 years underground?” “Yes.” “I haven’t seen you before. Are you a student in our department?” “No, I’ve already graduated.” “Oh? Is this a belated passion for learning? What did you study?” “History.” “History?” The middle-aged professor gazed at Inseo for a moment and said in a warm, affectionate voice, “I don’t know why you’re curious about this, but I actually have nothing to say. I don’t know the answer.” Inseo was silent. “I’m sorry,” the professor added. “No, that’s okay.” “Tell you what I’ll do,” the professor decided. “I’ll ask a colleague, an entomologist. You can contact me in a few days.” “Thank you.” As he left the man’s office, Inseo realized that his behavior, so abruptly visiting a professor he didn’t know, was likely seen as rather strange.

A few days later, though, the biology professor welcomed Inseo warmly. His answer, however, was the same as before. “I couldn’t find out why the cicada larva spends so much time in the soil. My colleagues didn’t have the answer, either. Even the entomologist didn’t.” “All right, professor. Thanks for trying to help.” “I’m sorry I couldn’t provide an answer.” Inseo bowed, left the office, and found a bench on campus where he could sit down,

reflecting that he hadn’t done this for a long time. He thought again about the strangeness of this quest. Why did the creator of The Secret of 13 pose a question that entomologists themselves couldn’t answer? Why was he himself drawn so much to this question? Inseo felt confused. Looking blankly across the relatively empty campus with only a few scattered students visiting the library during the vacation break, he sensed something within him changing as he focused his attention on this question. During his university time, he had indulged himself in reading various books of philosophy in his thirst for truth, unconcerned that other students and his friends were busy in the library preparing for final tests, national exams, or qualifying examinations for certificates. While his friends were studying in the library, he would lie on the grass under a tree or sit on a bench beside the university’s pond. Inseo had felt burdened by his parents’ worries over him, so when his father obtained a sabbatical year and headed for Canada, Inseo decided to become independent, and after seeing his father and mother off, he rented a small officetel to stay alone and seek truth. Despite his lengthy search, Inseo failed to find the truth of things, and even once considered going to a Buddhist temple for meditation. But he instead came to the conclusion that there is no truth, comforting himself that this conclusion lay at the core of modern philosophy. Since then, Inseo had maintained that indulging in what he liked and took interest in was truth enough for him, and he ignored whatever he knew nothing about, justifying to himself that he no longer needed to know those things of which he was ignorant. Moreover, now that he had graduated, he was trying to determine what career path he should take in life. But Inseo was unexpectedly drawn again to the question regarding the lifespan of the cicada. He decided the site creator must be an unusual person and that The Secret of 13 was not something hollow or simple. Inseo went back online to see the site again. Strangely enough, it was gone. “Huh?” he muttered. He tried the search several times, but the site had

vanished without a trace. Inseo was surprised, but he knew that people sometimes erased an old site to open a new one, or that some registered domains could be cancelled for various reasons, but he did not believe The Secret of 13 to be such a case. Inseo felt somehow empty. While being drawn to the strange question about cicadas, he had sensed, to his surprise, some changes within himself, so the site’s disappearance was a big blow. With great difficulty, he managed to contact the American InterNIC, which controlled dotcom domains, but the call proved very disappointing. “There was a sudden request to close the domain, so we did. We can’t give you any information about the site operator, who made the request and who also told us to release no details. If you’ve suffered any damages, register a complaint with the judicial authorities. We can provide information about a site operator only if an official investigation agency brings a court order.” Hanging up, Inseo felt helpless. In the world of the internet, everything seemed to be just under your nose, but if you looked deep, things got hazy. After wondering about this for a while, and why the site The Secret of 13 had disappeared, he suddenly recalled a friend who worked for the cyber police.

Seong-hyeon came to see Inseo immediately after receiving the phone call, but his first words were, “You look strange.” “What do you mean?” asked Inseo. “You have the face of a pessimist.” “Do I?” said Inseo. “I don’t even know why I’m doing this.” “Is something wrong?” asked Seong-hyeon. “Cicadas, it’s about cicadas.” “Cicadas?”

“Yes, the life of a cicada, the lifespan of that insect.” “What do you mean?” Seong-hyeon asked, looking serious, but after hearing what Inseo told him, he smiled. “Such a long time in the ground for so little happiness before departing this world, wouldn’t you say?” “Yes, exactly. What I’m interested in knowing is whether there’s a biological basis for spending such a long time underground. If there is one, what is it?” “It’s the natural course of things, isn’t it, just like mountains and streams? Why’s it so important?” “I sense there’s some important reason,” Inseo explained. “The site didn’t seem like a joke.” “Just forget it. Let’s go have some beer.” “I can’t understand why a cicada spends time of 17 years in the earth only to live one season as an imago. As for natural law, isn’t this very different from the case of other animals or insects?” “You’ve really fallen into this problem,” Seong-hyeon observed. “It’s not just the question about cicadas. The Secret of 13 itself is stuck in my mind. I feel something great’s behind it.” “Hey, everybody knows the number 13 is ominous,” Seong-hyeon reminded him. “The site, if it still exists, would just say something like somebody died, and it was on the 13th coincidently, or that the date of every massacre in history was the 13th, don’t you think?” “I also thought like you at the beginning,” Inseo admitted. “But as I thought more about the cicada, I sensed that the truth cannot be as simple and trivial as these things.” “What do you think the real story is?” Seong-hyeon asked. “I don’t know. But I do wonder if there’s some amazing secret we don’t know of in the world. Like how the cicada depends on a strange number that even an entomologist doesn’t

understand. I mean the number 17. I also think the number 13, which is so well known to people around the world, is as meaningful as the other number, probably more so. The site’s name was also The Secret of 13 . . .” “I really don’t understand what you’re saying. You haven’t changed. You’re still off the wall.” “Seong-hyeon, can you help me?” “Me? How?” “Find the person.” “What person?” “The one behind The Secret of 13.” “Is it so important?” Inseo nodded quietly. Seong-hyeon wrote down what Inseo had already told him. “It’s in America, not Korea,” he remarked. “Probably not so easy.” “The cyber police can handle it easily, can’t they?” “Maybe. I’ll at least try. Now, let’s go have some drinks.” The two hit the bottle hard, a long time having passed since they had seen each other.

Confusion Seong-hyeon phoned the next day. “Did you find out anything?” asked Inseo. “Who is he?” “I think the site must’ve been a swindle.” “Why?” “Everything was faked. The address and personal information turned in to the InterNIC were all faked. The money was paid in cash, and he refused from the beginning to reveal his

real name.” “I don’t think he’s a swindler. I can feel it. He’s unusual. How can we find him?” As if waiting for the question, Seong-hyeon replied, “How about this way?” “What way?” “Open a similar site.” “What do you mean?” “The site was The Secret of 13, so you open one called The Secret Number 13. Then wait and see what happens.” “You think it’ll work?” “I think it will. I don’t know the circumstances, but if you open a site this way, you’ll certainly get a reaction. Either from the site creator or from somebody connected.” “Sounds workable,” Inseo observed. “Is that a secret method you learned in criminal psychology?” “You might say so.” After their conversation, Inseo immediately opened an internet site. The procedure was simple. He registered a domain, paid the hosting fee, and made a simple web design to set it up. The only content on the site was the same question that had piqued his interest on the original website:

Do you know why a cicada lives 17 years in the ground, only to come out and die after just one summer?

From that day on, Inseo regularly checked the site’s visitors. But much to his regret, there were hardly any. People no longer seemed interested in the site. Inseo could only smile with chagrin.

But one day, among the rare comments, one drew Inseoâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s attention. The comment, adopting a jocular tone, said that the question seemed more suited for asking a highly advanced Buddhist monk than likely trolls on the internet. For the truly curious, a visit with such a monk would get better results than awaiting some response on the internet. Another netizen added a note under this comment, helpfully recommending Tongdo Templeâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Brother Jikwan, whom the netizen had once met and whose wisdom almost reached the sky. Inseo at first paid little attention to the suggestion, but he eventually decided he might at least try, and driven by his curiosity, he finally packed his backpack for travel, reflecting that a trip would be good in itself. Tongdo Temple was noisy with devotees and tourists when Inseo arrived. But the hermitage Geuk-rak-am, which came into view after an approximately 20-minute walk from the main temple, was unexpectedly quiet. It had a silent and peaceful atmosphere, and only the sound of wind rattling through the bamboo groves and the subdued tinkling of the wind-chimes were audible. Seeing a boy monk passing by, Inseo explained that he wanted to see Brother Jikwan and waited outside. But ten long minutes went by, and the boy monk had still not shown up. Impatient, Inseo cracked the door slightly open and looked in. A respectable-looking monk was seated within, his eyes closed in meditation, and the boy monk was kneeling before him. He noticed Inseo, so he came out, told him to wait longer, and went away. After about 30 more minutes, Inseo stepped close again and put his ear to the door. Hearing nothing, he opened the door slightly and saw the monk still sitting in the same position as before. Inseo then sought other monks, but could not find any, so he returned to Tongdo Temple. As he looked around the temple grounds, darkness fell, and he left to find a hotel nearby.

The next day, Inseo went back to the hermitage, and after following the boy monk for

more than two hours, he was finally able to meet Brother Jikwan. Inseo explained to him the question about the cicada. No sooner had Brother Jikwan heard it than he uttered an answer as if he knew every worldly affair. “It found the way of life.” “Venerable Sir, what do you mean?” “It found the winding way of life. Something praiseworthy for a small and insignificant creature.” “Do you mean that the 17 years is a way of life?” “Of course that’s it.” “Could you please explain a bit more?” “I don’t know more.” “Huh? You don’t know? You just said it found the way of life, didn’t you?” “I did. But I don’t know more than that.” “Venerable Sir, if you thought that 17 years was the way of life, there must be reason for that, don’t you think? Why is 17 years the way of life?” “Yes. Everything in the world has its cause. That you came to see me has a cause, and that a cicada lives underground for 17 years has a cause. But I have no insight into the cause, so I say I don’t know.” Inseo could not understand what Brother Jikwan meant. “Then why are you so sure that cicadas find the way of life through those 17 years?” “There are many ways to look at things. You can argue about cause and effect in detail, but you can also look and feel. Neither way is right or wrong. To you, I seem an ignorant person without education, while to me, you seem a poor fellow worn out by the worldly life.” Inseo gazed at the monk in disappointment. “Did you say your name was Inseo?”

Inseo nodded. “Inseo, I can’t tell you why a cicada lives 17 years in the soil because it’s beyond my ability. But in this world, true wise men exist who can answer every question. If you really want to know the reason, I can name a man who can tell you. Would you like to see him?” “Really? Is there someone like that?” “Ignorant monks like me exist in our world, but also great men beyond my reach. The monk I refer to doesn’t seek glory in this world. But if you go to him with your question, he might find it enjoyable.” Inseo began to realize the great vastness of the world. From his perspective, Brother Jikwan had already reached a high level of enlightenment. But since Brother Jikwan had called himself ignorant, Inseo was very curious about the kind of person the other great man would be. So he asked, “Will the great man be interested in a trivial problem like this? He’s such a great man of virtue.” “He will.” “Are you sure? This is just a trivial question about cicadas.” “For such a man, nothing is either too trivial or too important.” Inseo became more curious. “Is he your friend, Venerable Sir?” “No, I’ve never met him.” “How do you know about him, then?” “Ha-ha, I may not be a great, broad-minded man, but I can still sense those who know the law of life.” “Where is he now?” “At Mt. Baekdu.” “Hmm . . . If Mt. Baekdu is the place, reaching him will be too difficult. I’d have to go through China to reach it, and the mountains are high and rough, even unfamiliar . . .”

“Mu-ho, ho, ho,” laughed Brother Jikwan. Inseo immediately realized that he had spoken nonsense. Brother Jikwan was talking about the most mysterious person in the world, and he, Inseo, was talking about worldly issues. “Where can I find him on Mt. Baekdu?” “That’s what I don’t know. I’m not sure I could see him if I went. Maybe he exists as if not existing.” Based on how Brother Jikwan talked about the person, he must be someone very unusual. Suddenly, Inseo thought of Brother Seong-cheol, the highest-ranking Zen monk in Korea. Inseo wondered how to compare the monk whom Jikwan spoke of with Brother Seong-cheol. “Venerable Sir, is the person more deeply enlightened than Brother Seong-cheol?” “The way of the person I talked about is different from Brother Seong-cheol’s.” “What? Different how?” “That will be difficult for you to understand no matter how I try to explain.” “But I want to hear it.” Brother Jikwan sipped tea brought by the boy monk and gazed down the mountain. From somewhere, the plaintive cry of a wood pigeon was heard. The wind carrying the wood pigeon’s cry stirred the wind-chimes before quickly rattling and rustling on down the mountain. In Inseo’s eyes, the generous and relaxed face of Brother Jikwan resembled a bright moon. “What Brother Seong-cheol meditated upon while sitting up straight for eight years was the nirvana of the soul. To remain unshaken, one must realize that everything in the world is just illusion made by the mind. That’s along the same lines of the Buddha’s traditional teaching: ‘Everything depends on the mind.’” “Yes,” Inseo agreed. “That is the traditional belief. Did Brother Seong-cheol attain Buddhahood?”

“Mountain is mountain, water is water,” replied Brother Jikwan. “That’s what Brother Seong-cheol said,” Inseo recalled. “Oh,” said Brother Jikwan, “you know it.” “I once dipped into every religion and philosophy of the world seeking enlightenment.” “Ah, that’s laudable. You must still have a lingering aspiration for it. But if Brother Seong-cheol had seen you, he would have told you to concentrate on your study of computers instead of on this difficult question.” “My subject is history, but I’m also called a genius with computers,” explained Inseo. He didn’t usually tout his own talent, but in Brother Jikwan’s presence, he somehow felt comfortable revealing himself as he was. “Then you’re Brother Seong-cheol. If he attained Buddhahood, you’ve also attained it. If you’ve attained it, so has he.” It was a response directed completely away from Inseo’s question. But Inseo decided that Brother Jikwan had tossed him a koan after learning about his struggle to find the truth. “It’s a koan for me, isn’t it?” he said. “A koan? Hold your horses! I can give you one. The koan is what Brother Seong-cheol might have told you to do.” “Do you mean, ‘Concentrate on your study of computers instead of on this difficult question’?” “So you can at least earn enough to feed your belly.” “Is filling your stomach such an important koan? Didn’t Brother Seong-cheol overcome it?” After some reflection, Brother Jikwan explained, “Buddhist teaching is somewhat sad. Everything is empty, so you try to empty yourself. It can’t be done, so that’s why you try.” “What about the person on Mt. Baekdu?”

“He’s probably trying to fill a lot. Because he couldn’t, he tried. That’s the difference between the two.” Inseo could not quite understand, but did not ask further. “Anyway, Venerable Sir,” he concluded, “I doubt I can solve the cicada question. It’s very unlikely I’ll find myself on Mt. Baekdu.” “Well, things in the world happen through connections. Even if you wanted to go, you couldn’t if you didn’t have a connection, and you wouldn’t be able to see him there, anyway, without one. But if you have a connection, you can even get meat in a Buddhist temple.” “Thank you, Reverend. By the way, what’s the person’s name? Not the given name, the Buddhist name, I assume.” “Right. He’s called Jindoja, ‘The True Way.’” “Wow, his name already sounds great.” “Huh-huh-huh,” Brother Jikwan quietly chuckled. “Reverend, I might not go see him immediately, but I’ll keep his name in my mind. You never know, I might see him someday.” “Yes. If you have a connection, you might see him someday. Good-bye.”

In the bus returning to Seoul, Inseo reflected on something odd. “Why,” he mused, “did Brother Jikwan think that The True Way would be interested in a trivial issue like the lifespan of a cicada?” He could not understand it.

The Tantric Scripture Ulan-Ude, the capital city of the Republic of Buryatia, Russia, seldom saw foreigners. There were airplanes from Khabarovsk and Irkutsk, but they flew almost empty. A few rich residents were seen among the passengers, but foreigners were hard to find.

Buryatia, located along the eastern shore of Lake Baikal -- known as the clearest lake in the world -- had dense coniferous forests and was endowed with potentially great tourist attractions, but it had not yet opened its eyes to tourism. In fact, tourism did not easily fit into the long Siberia winter and the harsh climate, but above all, Buryatia lacked the investment money needed for attracting foreigners. But there was also something rare and precious in this country, something never found anywhere else. For the few people who knew the fact, the Tantric Scripture preserved in the museum here were Buryatia’s most precious treasure. The scripture contained more than religious teachings, for the old documents were also full of very valuable information about mysterious, ancient people. These scriptures, however, did not draw everyone’s attention. After the Academy of Russia presented the results of its research on the significance of these historical documents, people paid attention for a brief time, but interest soon died down since even scholars seldom visited Buryatia. Distant Siberia was such a cold, forbidding place.

“Oh!” came a trembling cry of shock from a small room of the National Museum of Buryatia. “Can this really be?” A subsequent voice was also full of astonishment. “Can something like this . . . ?” In the room stood two foreigners, a sight seldom seen in Ulan-Ude. Several dozen old books were lying on a table, and the two foreigners continued to utter exclamations. “Dr. Adams, is this believable?” “It is hard to believe, Dr. Turner.” “I’ve long expected this possibility, but as it now turns out to be true, I can hardly believe it.” “The Academy of Russia presented its research results on a few of the strange contents of the Tantric Scripture several times, but I didn’t expect those amazing contents to be described

in such detail . . .” “The difficulties we had in the last few years seemed to just melt away.” “Indeed, Dr. Turner.” “But what should we do with this scripture?” Dr. Turner’s eyes glittered oddly. “First, let’s take pictures and make copies but . . .” Dr. Adams’ voice sounded somewhat agitated. “But . . . there’s the danger of losing the originals, isn’t there?” “Exactly.” Each of the two had already secretly decided what needed to be done, though neither had broached the subject directly. But Turner soon revealed what lay in his heart. “The museum doesn’t pay attention to this scripture lying around. If these writings continue to be stored this way, they’re likely to deteriorate. So . . . what about taking them away ourselves?” “Yes, that’d be best. When we present our research results, we’ll have the whole world’s attention, and everyone from all sides will press us, demanding proof. They won’t be satisfied with copies alone.” Turner agreed completely, noting the ease with which this could be done. “Lucky for us, the guard never searches us, so let’s just take them in my bag.” Adams nodded quietly and looked around. Their eyes gleaming with their find, they slipped the writings into Turner’s bulky bag and left the museum with their usual nonchalance. The unsuspecting museum guard saluted Adams and Turner with accustomed friendliness. Next morning, Adams and Turner hurried to board their plane from Ulan-Ude for Khabarovsk, changing planes there, and then again at Japan’s Nigata Airport, flying on from there to New York.

The Secret Meeting Haloran, the New York Times lead reporter who had been investigating Bill Gates for a whole year over the lawsuit brought by the U.S. Department of Justice against Microsoft for allegedly violating the Sherman Antitrust Act, was sitting in his car on the phone and listening to one of his junior reporters on the investigative team. “Boss, I’ve lost him,” said the man. Haloran made a face as if he had bitten into a worm, and he spat out, “I know that already! You can leave now.” Haloran sat in his car after the tailing team had withdrawn, his mind blank, even neglecting to remove his infrared goggles for seeing through tinted car windows. He couldn’t stifle his anger at being shunted aside so completely. The Times needed to know the men Gates would be meeting that night, and the chief editor had put Haloran in charge of shadowing Gates because he was the star reporter, though one who usually dealt with homicides. Of urgent interest was the extent to which Microsoft had violated the Antitrust Act, if indeed it had, and knowing whom Gates would meet with in New York could offer clues as to how his lobbying was done. Of course, most lobbying was done secretly by the very best lawyers working for Microsoft, but whom Gates would meet with now in this final stage would be of utmost importance. So far, Haloran had successfully followed Gates while the man was visiting New York, and Gates’s appearance tonight revealing what he was doing would be very useful. But Gates had suddenly, unexpectedly, pulled away from the car Haloran was in and disappeared from sight. There must have been some reason for his action. Haloran felt it instinctively from his 20 years’ experience as a reporter. Sorry to see Haloran so upset, Michael, sitting in the driver’s seat, carefully suggested,

“How about a cold beer?” Haloran nodded quietly. There was nothing else to do. “But isn’t it strange?” he murmured, deep in thought, as if talking to himself. “What do you mean?” asked Michael. “Gates disappeared, but the others are there.” “The others?” “The ones Gates wants to meet. The ones we expected him to see are all present.” “That’s right,” Michael acknowledged. “The others were all in the conference room. Is it possible he’s meeting a woman?” “You think he’s crazy?” said Haloran. “To meet a woman in the middle of all the attention he’s getting here in New York? That’d be suicidal.” “What are we to make of his actions, then?” “Well, Microsoft’s threatened with being broken into pieces, and Gates came to New York for some other reason? Is that likely?” “Let’s have a cold beer and think things through completely.” “Okay,” Haloran agreed. “Let’s go to Jacksonville’s on 46th Avenue.” “Fine with me,” said Michael. As the car was about to cross the centerline and do a U-turn, Haloran cried out, “Hey, that’s . . . Stop!” “Why?” “Follow the car that just passed us!” “Which car do you mean?” “That one! Quickly! The Rolls-Royce!” After catching a glimpse of goggle-eyed Haloran, Michael quickly and skillfully steered his way through the other cars and then stepped on the accelerator. “Is that the Rolls-Royce

you meant?” he asked, indicating one up ahead. “Exactly,” said Haloran. “Keep them in sight, but don’t let them see us.” “Don’t worry. You know what I can do with a car, don’t you? By the way, who’s riding in the Rolls-Royce?” “Big Rothschild.” “Big Rothschild? The English . . .” “Right,” said Haloran, his face revealing a mix of expressions. “Hmm, I have a strange foreboding . . .” “What foreboding?” “Isn’t it strange to see two of the richest people in the world within an interval of five minutes on this quiet street? Or is that just coincidence?” Michael said nothing, so Haloran continued, “Of course, it could be chance . . . but no, it can’t be just coincidence. If it’s not coincidence, what does it mean?” “Well . . .” responded Michel absentmindedly, busily following the Rolls-Royce. Haloran then murmured to himself. “We can imagine a scenario. Bill Gates already anticipates Microsoft’s defeat. He then thinks of dividing the company, and so pulls in Big Rothschild as partner.” “Do they have any connection?” asked Michael. “Why pull in Big Rothschild?” “It’s just a scenario, but you’re right. We shouldn’t jump to a hasty conclusion. Anyway, you shouldn’t lose the car.” The Rolls-Royce seemed not to notice being tailed. The bodyguards of Rothschild, one of the world’s wealthiest men, were tired of playing hide and seek with paparazzi, so they always moved very secretly. Thus did the car this night have especially thick, tinted windows. Moreover, the guards had clearly devised a plan to shunt the paparazzi beforehand. But the Rothschild car had caught Haloran’s eye by chance because he happened to still be wearing

the special goggles that enabled him to see through the car’s tinted glass. Moreover, because he and Michael had encountered the car without a plan, Rothschild’s bodyguards did not imagine somebody following.

In front of a secluded mansion in New Jersey, cars arrived at intervals of a few minutes, let the owners out, and then drove away, probably to conceal the identity of the owners. “What do we do now?” asked Michael. “Let me out behind the house, and you leave.” “Are you going to send me a message later?” “Yes, I will. Don’t get too drunk. Zip your lips, too.” “Don’t worry.” Haloran got out and looked around, but saw nobody. Then, as he calculated that the men gathering there were using an ordinary mansion to avoid exposure, he decided to jump over the wall. He first turned off his pager and cell phone, carefully looked around, put what appeared to be a lighter at the wall’s base, and then switched it on. The apparent lighter, a device used by the FBI, had an antenna attached to indicate the flow of electricity and the presence of electronic signals. As Haloran had expected, the wall was not equipped with any special technology. Only a rotating camera installed by a security company was hanging nearby, but the angle of the camera was easy to avoid. Catching his breath and counting one, two, three, he jumped up onto the wall, adjusted his position, and jumped down into the yard before the camera turned back. He remained for a while with his belly and chest close to the ground. As soon as he felt sure there was no movement around him, he carefully crawled forward. The yard was quite big, but no guard seemed to be there. Haloran took out the lighter to check for electronic signals, but there was again no special technology installed.

Nearing a window, he glimpsed through a break in the thick curtains people gathering in the first-floor room, which adjoined a large patio. Haloran slowly crawled like an earthworm to the edge of the patio, then across its Arabic tiles till he could see the gathered group, one person after another. There were twelve of them in all. “Oh my God!” thought Haloran, unable to believe his eyes. In a big city like New York lived many people whose fame would make one gasp just to hear their names mentioned. But the twelve gathering there this night were such powerful people that the mere fact of their gathering would be the most newsworthy topic in the world. Among them was Gates, whom Haloran had lost while tailing. Big Rothschild, whom Haloran had happened to follow by chance, was also there. His foreboding had been correct. Haloran mused that he was dressed just right in a black suit. His wife, oddly enough, had suggested that morning that he wear the black suit, and even though he did not like it much, he had left home in it. Reflecting that his wife was a guardian angel, he took out a small notebook and started writing down names. “Rothschild, Rockefeller, Gates . . .” Then, carefully putting his lighter’s antenna to the window to use its function as a bugging device, he plugged the receiver into his ears. The twelve were sitting at a round table. Seeing them seated so, the “Group of 12 Ruling the World” occurred to him. “Are they those twelve?” he wondered. Lying before each of them on the round table was a book. As someone opened his book and started to read aloud from it, the others followed along in theirs with their eyes. After a while, they finally closed their books and started to pray with their eyes closed as one of them led the prayer. As the voice of the person praying became impassioned, the faces of the others grew highly elated, even fiercely red, till the voice died away, and the people, regaining their peace, breathed normally as their faces returned to their natural color. Through repeated mentioning by the reader, Haloran realized that the book was a Jewish text

of the Kabbalah. The prayer being finished, the butler came in and put away the books. One of the men then stood up. Haloran’s eyes glittered in the darkness. Focusing through the curtain, he saw Big Rothschild, who was practically the wealthiest man in the world and who represented the Rothschild family of England. Looking around the audience, he started to speak in a low but firm voice. “Microsoft should give more room to Linux and Google.” “Yes.” Bill Gates nodded. It was a strange conversation. “Increase market share gradually. Acknowledge not only Linux but also other small browsers. The American government has been seriously looking into the legal standing of monopolies since early 2000. This is also what ‘he’ thinks.” “I understand,” replied Gates. Haloran could scarcely believe what he was hearing. Does this make any sense? he wondered. Is there someone who influences the richest men in the world? Who is “he”? Where is “he”? “What about the Japanese Masayosi?” asked Grant Carner in a quiet but weighty voice. An investor in various investment banks around the world including Goldman Sachs, he was actually the wealthiest tycoon among the plutocrats. “Leave him alone for a while. The Japanese business world is still watching him suspiciously. He uses internet stocks’ rapid rise as seed money. He believes the stocks’ quick rise can compensate for the interest. But the financial burden is too great. With a somewhat unusual situation, his financial situation will collapse.” “Of course,” spat a raspy voice. “Masayosi is a rookie who never experienced the economic crisis of a recession.” The voice of ridicule belonged to Black Wells, the tycoon of the war industry. Haloran was surprised to see that even Black Wells was present at the meeting.

After some moments of silence, Big Rothschild again spoke. “I have met ‘him’ recently. He is now looking for the holy book containing the final wisdom.” “A holy book containing the final wisdom?” asked a voice. “Right. He said that there exists a holy book that complements the Kabbalah, and that this other holy book will be the last wisdom.” “A holy book that complements the Kabbalah? Is it a Buddhist text?” another voice asked. “No, he could not find the secret in Buddhism.” “Then the Koran?” asked yet another voice. Big Rothschild shook his head. “If not a Buddhist text or the Koran, what is it?” asked another voice. “Is there any book like that in the world?” “There must be,” Big Rothschild replied. “That’s what ‘he’ said. I don’t know, but if ‘he’ is right, this holy book must contain the wisdom about how we proceed.” “Oh Messiah . . .” someone sighed. As they began to stand up, Haloran crawled back across the yard, trying to calm his beating heart. He waited, quietly crouching at the base of the wall, then quickly vaulted over the wall as the camera rotated its lens away from him.

Warning After meeting Brother Jikwan, Inseo’s curiosity about the person called “The True Way” stuck in his mind. “What kind of person is he,” wondered Inseo, “if a high monk like Brother Jikwan compares himself to him as unworthy? Could The True Way answer the cicada question?” But for the time being, what captivated him most was the person who had opened the site The Secret of 13 and then suddenly closed it. Inseo’s own site, The Secret Number 13, set up to flush the person out, was drawing more visitors, but not yet the person being sought.

One day, however, as Inseo arrived home and automatically turned on the computer, he found an unfamiliar email awaiting him. His heart beating faster, he quickly opened it and found a surprising message in English:

You have done something useless. You might have put yourself in danger, so close the site as soon as possible.

Inseo could not entirely grasp the email’s significance, nor could judge what to do with a warning given by some anonymous individual who had visited his site and was warning him to close it. He first regarded it as a poor joke, judging from the contents, and tried to ignore it, but he could not easily suppress its warning. No, with the passing of time, he recalled the brief warning ever more strongly in his mind until, with belated insight, he suddenly realized, “That’s the person, the creator of the site, The Secret of 13!” The person was apparently in a position to cause trouble for Inseo. When he had first read the question about cicadas, he had tried briefly to track down an answer, but then decided to drop the quest; however, as time went by, he was attracted to it more strongly. It was the same this time with the email, for his curiosity was piqued, and he decided he should answer it:

I just want to know the secret of the cicada. Your site strongly stimulated my interest. I tried everything reasonable toward answering the question, but to no avail. I heard that someone on Mt. Baekdu called “The True Way” might know the answer, but I’m in no position to travel so far. My mind is now filled with curiosity about the secret of the cicada. Why did you

raise such a strange question at all? What significance does the question have? Strangely, one of Korea’s high monks took the question very seriously. Moreover, since encountering the question, my thoughts about the world have greatly changed. Please tell me the answer. And what do you mean by the warning that I’ll be put in danger? What you say sounds like a joke, but I believe it’s not a joke.

He sent the email in great excitement, but received no answer for several days. His friend Seong-hyeon read the warning message several times very carefully and grew very interested in the issue. “It’s a little strange,” he observed, “but the person doesn’t seem to have any malicious intent.” “I agree.” “It sounds rather like a joke, but you never know. If there really is something . . .” “You think I should take his warning seriously?” “I’m not sure. But if you close your site down, I’m sure he’ll never contact you again.” “I’ve also thought that, so I’ll wait and see. This might put me in danger, but somebody will at least contact me.” Drawing on Seong-hyeon’s reasoning, Inseo decided to ignore the warning. In fact, he saw no reason to take any action just because of some vague warning. The warning did not really bother him. But as days passed with no reply, Inseo grew disappointed to find his expectations unfulfilled. Most people would have given up at this stage, but Inseo did not, and one day, he finally received a message.

Who is the person called “The True Way” you mentioned? Can he really solve the

cicada question?

Inseo felt as if he were suddenly floating on air. The person wanted a response! But Inseo hesitated for a while wondering how best to answer. The person showed great interest in The True Way, but Inseo himself actually had no knowledge about the monk. He had simply written what Brother Jikwan had said, that The True Way could solve any problem. Inseo knew nothing of who The True Way was, how old he was, or even which nationality he was. But if he were to answer with complete honesty, admitting that he didn’t know much about the monk, the person would respond no more. After deep reflection, Inseo decided to tell the truth:

I heard about The True Way from a high monk in Korea. But I have never met him and don’t know anything about him except the name. Brother Jikwan, who told me of him, has not met him, either. According to what I heard from Brother Jikwan, The True Way does not exist as if existing, but exists as if not existing. He might be on Mt. Baekdu now. Brother Jikwan put him much higher than himself, though that might have been excessive humility. Brother Jikwan said that anyone having a connection with him will meet him on Mt. Baekdu, which is a rather large area. So, curious about the question of cicada, I first wanted to travel to Mt. Baekdu alone, but honestly, I’m not confident enough. I don’t mind if you contact me again or not, but I’m really curious about the cicada. Also about the site The Secret of 13. What is the secret of 13?”

Surprisingly, the answer this time came immediately after Inseo sent the email:

I want to know more about you. Please tell me everything you can about yourself.

As soon as Inseo sent the requested information, he received a response:

“A historian, an internet surfer?” All right, curious young Korean man, we’ll see each other in the near future. But it’s still better to close the site The Secret Number 13.