Jun-ho exits at the Jinbu IC and turns his car toward Odaesan Mountain.

  Since it has recently snowed, the mountains of Gangwon-do are covered in a soft white glow.

  If he were simply heading to Hajodae Beach, there would be no need to cross Odaesan,

  but perhaps due to his age, he feels a sudden urge to drive this road again—a path soaked in old memories.

  To get from Seoul to Hajodae Beach today, one no longer needs to cross the Daegwallyeong Pass.

  It has become much more convenient; once you pass the East Seoul Tollgate and take the Seoul-Yangyang Expressway,

  you can arrive at Hajodae in as little as an hour and a half. In the past, however, the common route to the beach required passing through the Daegwallyeong Tunnel.

  Winter in Daegwallyeong, an area sitting between 800 and 1,000 meters above sea level, consistently stays 5 to 10 degrees colder than other regions.

  The cold is so severe that the 2018 Pyeongchang Winter Olympics were held in Pyeongchang, which encompasses this very pass.

  Jun-ho loves Hajodae Beach. Whenever he travels there from Seoul, he always takes the national highway that exits at Jinbu IC and crosses Odaesan.

  This is partly because it is an area where he lived in the past. He lived there during the early Joseon Dynasty.

  At the entrance of the Daegwallyeong Tunnel, he drives toward Woljeongsa Temple.

  As he moves deeper into the mountains, the drive demands sharper focus. It is winter, and Jun-ho knows all too well how slippery and dangerous this road can be.

  He stops his car at the rest area located at the summit of Jingogae. Once he clears Jingogae, the road turns into a downhill slope, making the driving much easier. J

  ingogae is a "long, exhausting pass" in every sense of its name.

  The rest area at the summit is often chilly and shrouded in fog even in summer, but the refreshment of stepping out and taking a deep breath of the cold mountain air is beyond words.

  Jun-ho parks his black 2012 Grandeur HG300 and steps out.

  Perhaps because he is now sixty-five, the blast of cold air that hits him the moment he opens the door feels unusually overwhelming.

  ‘I must really be getting old. To think I can't even withstand the cold of Jingogae.’

  Jun-ho feels that while his mind remains young and sharp, his body cannot keep up with its pace. Does the human brain only respond properly when it is young and healthy? His own brain is constantly upgraded and does not age, yet he wonders if his thoughts are aging along with the decaying shell of his physical body.

  Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

  Holding a cup of coffee from the rest area, he gazes blankly at the parking lot submerged in cold mist.

  Then, a man he met exactly forty years ago in 1986—at this very Jingogae rest area—suddenly comes to mind.

  --------------------------------------

  The man was a twenty-five-year-old youth who made a living driving a truck. The two met for the first time in this parking lot. The young man was crying inside his truck. It wasn't common to see a young man weeping alone, but perhaps it was possible that day because there were no other vehicles in the lot except theirs.

  It was a 25-ton Hyundai truck, fully loaded with cargo. Because the driver's seat was so high, the tears might not have been easily visible,

  but the sound of sobbing was clear enough to be heard. Jun-ho could not just pass by. The emotion he has guarded most importantly throughout his life is Cheuk-eun-ji-sim—the heart of compassion and pity for others. If not for that heart, the world would already look entirely different. Furthermore, finding humans with an abundance of such compassion is a very important task for him.

  Jun-ho knocks on the truck door. The young man rolls down the window.

  "You look like you're crying... I don't know what happened, but..."

  "No, sir... you don't need to worry about me."

  Recognizing that Jun-ho is an elder, the youth tries to reassure him instead. In 1986, Korea had a much stronger culture of respecting elders than it does now.

  "Young man, don't be like that. Come down. If you aren't busy, let's have a cup of coffee."

  Jun-ho speaks almost as if making a request.

  As the story unfolds, it turns out the man lives alone with his mother, who suffers from both lung cancer and dementia. The hospital bills are unbearably high, and life is always on the edge of a cliff. Though he is a driver for a transport company, his wages are low and he has no special skills. To make matters worse, he fell asleep at the wheel that day and caused an accident; the cargo spilled out and was completely damaged. The compensation for the damages is entirely his responsibility.

  After hearing the whole story, Jun-ho asks him:

  "Young man, do you know what Cheuk-eun-ji-sim is?"

  "Yes... I know."

  "Then, do you have that compassion within you?"

  "I do... but I’ve never had the chance to use it," the young man answers with his head bowed.

  "I see... if that's the case, I will help you. Will you listen to a proposal of mine?"

  Jun-ho gave him financial aid and presented a very special offer. Eventually, the two reached an agreement.

  -----------------------

  Leaving the memories of the 1986 Jingogae rest area behind, he starts the car.

  Leaving Jingogae behind, Jun-ho drives toward Hajodae via National Route 59.

  After navigating bumpy unpaved sections and passing through Eoseongjeon Village, he finally arrives at Hajodae Beach an hour and a half later.

  He parks his Grandeur in a corner of the lot overlooking the water.

  The Grandeur HG. By 2026 standards, it is a fifteen-year-old car. In Korea, where it is common to trade in a car after ten years, Jun-ho is still driving this one. It isn't because he is poor.

  On the contrary, he possesses wealth that is difficult to even conceptualize.

  He simply likes this car. Every time he drives it, the choice not to flaunt his financial power serves as a reminder to himself of how he has controlled his own "desires."

  

  ‘Hajodae never changes. This vast sky, the beautiful white sand, the clean air...’

  He entered a raw fish restaurant with a panoramic view of the beach. He took a shot of soju and dipped a slice of fresh flounder into spicy red chili paste.

  The instant the flavors hit his tongue, a wave of profound happiness surged through him, his brain drenching itself in dopamine.

  On a large TV mounted on the restaurant wall, news footage showed an unidentified object hovering in the sky above a city square in Country R.

  Every patron in the restaurant looked up simultaneously, their faces etched with a growing sense of dread.

  Jun-ho also raised his head, his eyes narrowing as he took in the screen.

  ‘Ah... why now... Is she starting to lose control of herself? I’ll have to go see her personally.’

  Jun-ho looked like a man who knew exactly what those entities were—and exactly what they were doing.