Jongin is unable to get any sleep that night, tossing and turning in the uncomfortable bed in the guest house, and he’s up by dawn the following morning. He slings his pack over his shoulder and sets out, a spring in his step and fresh hope in his heart.

There aren’t many people up and about so early in the morning, but Jongin thinks it’s better this way. The less people there are to see him heading up into the mountain, the better.

He finds the right bus stop without much difficulty. The bus hasn’t started running yet; he’s still got about forty-five minutes until it’s supposed to arrive. Thankfully it’s a warm morning, so he makes himself comfortable on the bench and unwraps a kimbap he’d bought the day before at the convenience store.

His whole body is thrumming with excitement. He’s on is way. He’s really going to unravel the mystery surrounding Kyungsoo’s birth and adoption; hopefully he'll get more clues as to what happened to his best friend.

He’s getting antsy by the time the bus finally arrives, pulling up with a screech of brakes and a whoosh as the doors swish open. Jongin is already on his feet, bouncing with excitement and anticipation, so he jumps up the steps as soon as the doors open. The driver, an elderly, balding man with glasses, gives him a flat, bored stare as he puts his money in the collection box and takes a seat. There’s nobody else on the bus, so he has his pick.

The doors swish shut and they’re on their way.

Jongin watches the scenery pass by outside the window as the bus drives farther and farther into the mountains, up winding switchback roads, through thick forests. They make a couple more stops, through villages even smaller than Gangjeong. Though the driver dutifully brakes and opens the door at every stop, nobody else gets on the bus.

After a couple of hours, the bus pulls up to the stop Amber had told Jongin to get off at. He thanks the driver, who only stares at him in return, and climbs off the bus. Then the doors swish shut and the bus is gone again; Jongin is left alone in the wilderness.

Thankfully there is a sign pointing him towards a trail up the mountain, so, shouldering his pack, he sets off up the path with determination.

The day soon turns hot, and Jongin strips off his jacket and ties it around his waist. By lunchtime he’s drenched with sweat, and he takes off his shirt and uses it to mop the perspiration off his face and neck. He finds some shade and eats some more of the snacks he’d brought; he’d already exhausted and famished.  

Part of him doesn’t want to get up. His legs are aching and there’s a blister already forming on his heel, and he’s not even sure how much farther it is to the temple. He’s passed signs periodically pointing him ever further upward, but there are no measurements of distance on the signs. But he’s this close to finding answers; he’s not about to give up now just because he’s tired.

So, with a great deal of effort, he hauls himself to his feet, slips his arms through the straps of his backpack, and sets off again with fresh determination.

He begins to really worry when the sun starts to go down. He doesn’t have a flashlight, a tent, or any camping supplies. He’s not sure what he’ll do if he gets stuck out here on the mountain at night. It’ll be too dark to keep going – at any rate, he’s so exhausted from hiking all day that he’s not sure he’d even be able to. But he’s got no supplies to make an overnight camp.

He’s feeling the first dredges of full-blown panic when he sees lights in the distance. A surge of relief washes through him. He’s not sure if it’s the temple he’s looking for, but lights mean some kind of civilization. If nothing else, he can stay the night there and continue on in the morning.

So he picks up the pace, ignoring the pain in his foot from the blister – he’s pretty sure it’s close to bursting now – and walks towards the lights.

Before long it comes into view, and Jongin catches his breath.

It’s a temple.

With a fresh enthusiasm, he walks beneath the archway into the courtyard. There are a handful of Buddhist monks there, and they seem surprised to see him.

Jongin feels overwhelmed, almost panicky. “Excuse me,” he says to the monks. “Is this Seondeoksa temple?”

“It is,” one of the monks nods solemnly. “We don’t get many visitors way up here anymore. You must have traveled a long way.”

Jongin’s palms are sweaty; he quickly wipes them on his dirty jeans. “Please, is there a monk here by the name of Junmyeon? Kim Junmyeon? I really need to speak with him. It’s urgent.”

The monks exchange looks. Then one of them steps forward, bowing his head. “Follow me, please.”

He turns and heads towards one of the buildings situated around the courtyard. Jongin hurries to follow, his heart somewhere in the vicinity of his throat. It feels like he might throw up, though he’s not sure if that’s because of his exhaustion, his hunger, or his nerves.

The monk stops before a door and knocks politely. After a moment, someone within calls out, “Enter.”

The monk slides the door open and bows low to whoever is inside. “A young man is here to see you, master.”

“Send him in,” calls the voice, clear and melodic.

The first monk nods and stands aside, gesturing for Jongin to step into the room.

The man sitting inside is of an undistinguishable age; he could be either young or old, it’s impossible to tell. He’s sitting behind a low desk, writing on a piece of parchment with a calligraphy pen. He sets aside his pen and looks up when Jongin steps in, toeing his shoes off at the door. The first monk bows respectfully and slides the door closed behind him.

The monk sitting at the desk surveys Jongin with a calm, peaceful sort of expression. “How can I help you?”

“Are you Kim Junmyeon?” Jongin blurts out, heart pounding.

The monk folds his hands calmly in front of him; his hands, like his face, are unlined and delicate. Jongin can’t even begin to fathom his age. “I am. You seem to have traveled a long way to see me. It must be important.”

“It is.” Relief is washing through Jongin. Relief and hope. “Twenty-five years ago, you arranged an adoption for a little unnamed boy.” He wishes he still has the paperwork, but of course the Chief hadn’t let him keep it. “He was adopted by a couple in Seoul. I need to know everything you know about the boy and where he came from.”

The monk is silent for a moment, and Jongin is almost afraid that he’s going to be told off for demanding such information. Then the monk smiles calmly. “That, I’m afraid, is a long story. It’s best that it waits until tomorrow. You must be tired and hungry from your trip up the mountain; it’s no easy trek. Our fare here is humble, but I welcome you to take advantage of our hospitality for the evening. In the morning, we can discuss this matter.”

“But sir,” Jongin begins desperately. “It’s really important-!”

“As many things are,” Junmyeon agrees calmly. “But self-care is also important. We’ll discuss it in the morning.”          

Jongin stares helplessly at him, unable to argue further. It might be the longest night of his life.

So it's been forever and a day. Are you still there? If so, thanks! Sorry for being such an unreliable updater!

Sooo my little girl, Yuna, is almost two. Which is crazy to think about. It feels like she was just born yesterday. I'm also 22 weeks pregnant with baby number 2, which is also a girl. So, come April, I will have not one but two little munchkins. I am determinted - DETERMINED - to finish this story by then. I know I've said that before, but I mean it. It's going to happen. LOL we'll see