Chapter 29
From inside the monitor, a brilliant light flooded out, drenched in gold.
No way...
Still staring at the screen, Si-woo pushed himself to his feet.
[Name: Plaque for the Great Light Hall at Wonkaksa Temple]
[Date of Creation: Year 11 of King Sejo of Joseon (1465)]
[An imperial calligraphy plaque personally written and bestowed by King Sejo, the 7th king of Joseon, when he founded Wonkaksa Temple]
[The front bears the words "Wonkaksa" in a vigorous hand that embodies royal dignity, while the back secretly hides the four characters "All Things Are Impermanent"]
[Miraculously preserved for over 500 years beneath the deep mud of the Han River, sealed off from oxygen]
[Now in a dangerously fragile state, as if it could crumble at any moment after exposure to the air]
[Estimated value: at least 20 billion won]
For a moment, Si-woo could only stare at the status window like a man struck dumb.
The famous Prince Suyang from the film Face Reader was none other than King Sejo himself.
The seventh king of Joseon.
The man who had deposed his young nephew, King Danjong, and seized the throne.
The cold-blooded ruler portrayed in films and dramas as the butcher who killed countless loyal officials, including the Six Martyred Ministers, before taking his seat on the throne.
He steadied himself and sent a direct message.
His hands trembled as he waited for a reply.
While he waited, he logged into the Joseon Annals database.
He was curious whether any record of it remained.
If the annals mentioned it, its value would only rise further.
He searched for "Wonkaksa Great Light Hall" in the search bar.
His eyes swept rapidly across the screen.
Found it!
He had worried there might be no historical source at all, but that fear was unnecessary.
There was more material than he'd expected.
[Volume 34 of the Annals of King Sejo, Year 10, Month 5, Day 2]
- When Prince Hyoryeong, Yi Bo, expounded the Perfect Enlightenment Sutra at Hoeamsa Temple... [truncated] ... King Sejo ordered Grand Councilor Seo Geo-jeong to record the whole affair. A temple was then built on the site of the old Heungcheonsa Temple, and it was named Wonkaksa.
[Volume 35 of the Annals of King Sejo, Year 11, Month 4, Day 7]
- Wonkaksa was completed. Its halls and pavilions were splendid and majestic, said to be the finest within the capital. The king personally wrote the calligraphy and bestowed the plaque; the signboard for the Great Light Hall shone brilliantly in gold.
The annals testified to it plainly.
Year 11 of King Sejo.
The day the temple was completed.
There had indeed been a plaque written by Sejo himself.
This was the kind of relic that would not seem out of place if it were designated a national treasure on the spot.
"It really existed. Just as the records said."
The annals vividly showed how much effort Sejo had poured into founding Wonkaksa.
He skimmed through other records as well.
One entry stood out.
[Entry from Volume 15 of the Annals of King Jungjong, Year 7, Month 5, Day 18]
- The timber of Wonkaksa was dismantled and distributed. The larger beams were loaded onto boats and sent down the river, but more than half were overturned or lost to the water.
This is it!
Wonkaksa had been dismantled during King Jungjong's reign.
And according to the record, it was highly likely that the Great Light Hall plaque had fallen into the Han River during transport.
Just then, a Byeolstagram alert rang.
Hastily, he checked the direct message.
With some time, Han Eun-hye sent the address.
The next morning, he rented a special-purpose van from the gallery and drove out to a quiet farmhouse on the outskirts of Gyeonggi Province.
As he gripped the wheel, the materials he'd researched the night before drifted through his mind.
Wonkaksa.
Today, only the site remained where the temple had once stood, now occupied by Tapgol Park in Jongno, Seoul.
All the wooden buildings were long gone.
Only the ten-story stone pagoda from Wonkaksa Temple Site stood in the middle of the park, testifying that the temple had once been there.
He parked the van in front of a tile-roofed house and got out. A woman who looked to be in her twenties saw him and bowed in surprise.
"You're Appraiser Kim Si-woo, aren't you? You look exactly like your photo. I didn't think you'd really come."
"Hello. I'm Kim Si-woo."
He offered a polite handshake.
"My grandfather is inside. Please, come this way."
Han Eun-hye led him into the old hanok.
In the yard stood an earthenware jar stand and a well weathered by time, while moss clung to the tiled roof.
"Grandpa, Appraiser Kim Si-woo is here!"
The old man seated on the wooden floor rose slowly.
He was past eighty, his back still straight, but the deep lines in his face carried the full weight of age.
"Welcome. I'm grateful you came all this way."
"Not at all. I'm the one who's grateful for the chance to appraise such an artifact."
The old man looked Si-woo over carefully, then nodded.
"Heh. A young man with good manners. I've read plenty about you in the papers. I've seen the articles about the independence movement relics more than once. Let's have some tea and talk."
The reach of the article had been greater than he'd imagined.
"Of course, sir."
He removed his shoes and climbed up onto the wooden floor.
"Eun-hye, bring some tea."
"Yes, Grandpa."
As Han Eun-hye headed for the kitchen, the old man motioned for Si-woo to sit.
"Truth be told, I didn't even know what kind of plaque I had, so I've just kept it in the storehouse all these years. Then my granddaughter showed me an article about you. She said she'd contact you, and before I knew it, here you are. Ha ha."
There was a note of hope in the old man's voice.
"Where is the plaque now?"
Growing impatient, Si-woo asked carefully.
"In the storehouse. Let's have tea first and take a look after that. It's sat there unchanged for decades; a few more minutes won't make any difference, would it?"
The old man chuckled, making a joke of it.
"You look more eager than an old man who's already past eighty and headed for the grave."
Si-woo laughed awkwardly, embarrassed.
"I'm sorry. I got ahead of myself."
"No, no. A young person ought to have that sort of passion. Hm hm."
A while later, Han Eun-hye returned with steaming tea.
Si-woo accepted the cup and took a sip, listening closely as the old man began to speak.
"My father worked at a ferry landing on the Han River when he was young."
The old man's gaze seemed to drift far away.
"Was it 1958? There was a year when the drought was so severe the bottom of the Han River cracked open like a turtle's shell. Once the water dried up and the riverbed was exposed, things that had been hidden for years came to light."
Si-woo straightened and listened.
"Back then, they found a blackened plaque buried deep in the mud near the landing on the north side of the river. My father dug it out, and he said it must have lain buried in the mud all that time without rotting."
The old man's voice remained calm.
But Si-woo's heart was pounding so hard it felt ready to burst.
"My father said it looked like a plaque he'd once seen at a temple. Even then, the writing was still clear. But he couldn't read Chinese characters, so he didn't know what it said. He meant to ask someone else, but he got busy with work, and by the time a few days had passed, the writing had vanished in an instant. I still remember my mother screaming that it was a cursed object and telling him to throw it away."
The characters on the plaque must have oxidized after being exposed to air following years of retaining moisture.
"And you kept the plaque all this time? You never asked another appraiser or contacted a museum?"
At Si-woo's question, the old man gave a wry smile.
"A long time ago, some fellow who said he was an artifact appraiser came to the village looking for old things, so I let him take a look. But all he said was that he didn't know what it was. Said the writing had all faded and was too hard to make out."
The old man slowly took a sip of tea and set the cup down.
The moment dragged on painfully long.
"He said it would cost money to appraise it. Said there were fees for all sorts of tests and examinations. After hearing all that, I just forgot about it and lived with it."
He let out a quiet breath of relief inwardly.
If the appraiser had been a real expert, he would have recognized the value even if the letters had been erased.
Just being a wooden plaque from the Joseon period would have been enough to make it precious.
Whether the characters were visible or not, someone determined would have tried every possible means to acquire it.
If that had happened, this chance would never have come.
"So the plaque must be in pretty poor condition."
"It is. I'm afraid to touch it, because it looks like it'll crumble the moment I lay a hand on it."
Regret colored the old man's voice.
"Still, it's a relief that someone famous enough to make the papers came. I hope I can find out what it is before I die. It was something my father fished out of the river, so I couldn't bear to just throw it away."
Si-woo set down his teacup and spoke seriously.
"I'll do my best to appraise it. May I take a look at the plaque?"
The old man rose slowly.
"All right, let's go see it. Eun-hye, bring me the storehouse key."
"Yes! Grandpa!"
The old man led Si-woo to the storehouse.
When the door opened, a blinding golden light burst forth.
The light slowly faded away.
In its place was a wooden plaque blackened by age and corrosion.
At first glance, it looked like an old piece of timber cut into a neat rectangular shape.
"May I touch the plaque myself?"
"Go ahead. Just be careful with it."
He took a pair of white gloves from his bag and slipped them on carefully.
Then he knelt down before the plaque, handling it with the utmost caution.
So this is it. I'm finally seeing it with my own eyes.
In his later years, Sejo suffered from a mysterious skin disease and, in his torment, turned to Buddhism with fanatical fervor.
According to old tales, the king was plagued night after night by auditory hallucinations, hearing the voices of the dead so that he never slept peacefully for even a moment.
Perhaps he believed the vengeful spirits of Danjong, the nephew he had killed, and the many loyal subjects he had executed were tormenting him in his dreams.
Wonkaksa, erected in the heart of Jongno, may have been a place steeped in Sejo's repentance.
He reached out and carefully examined the front of the plaque.
The surface was rough and uneven.
The grain of the wood had swollen, and cracks ran through it in several places.
The writing could no longer be read.
As it was, he couldn't explain anything.
"Could you wait just a moment? I have equipment in the car."
Si-woo rose and went outside.
From the van, he took out a portable infrared scanner.
It was a cutting-edge device capable of tracing even the faintest traces of ink still left on a surface.
Returning to the storehouse, Si-woo set the scanner in front of the plaque.
"What is that?" Han Eun-hye asked, clearly intrigued.
"An infrared scanner. It can detect the carbon traces in ink that the eye can't see."
He connected the tablet to the scanner.
The infrared beam pouring from the device began to sweep across the wood grain.
A rough black-and-white image appeared on the connected tablet screen.
"Ooh..."
Han Eun-hye breathed out in amazement.
The old man peered at the tablet screen.
Si-woo adjusted the sensitivity of the display in tiny increments.
"The surface has oxidized after being exposed to the air, so it only looks as if the writing disappeared. But the ink itself has soaked deep into the wood fibers."
As he adjusted the contrast, traces began to emerge from what had looked like dirty stains.
Yuánjué Sì.
Wonkaksa.
The three vanished characters appeared clearly on the screen.
It was Sejo's handwriting.
"Do you see it? It says Wonkaksa."
An exclamation burst from the old man's lips.
"Heh. Well I'll be damned. The writing really is there!"
"Now that we've confirmed the front, I'll check the back as well."
The plaque was too large for him to lift alone.
Han Eun-hye took the opposite side to help.
Slowly, they flipped the plaque over.
The back was even more corroded than the front.
Only faint traces remained on the rough wood.
He aimed the scanner at the back.
The infrared light began to sweep across the surface.
At first, it couldn't find any letters.
He moved the scanner to the outer edge of the plaque.
Found it.
At last, letters emerged faintly enough to barely make out.
So he really did hide the words. He hid them as secretly as possible.
First came the outline of the first character.
No.
Then the second.
Thing.
The third.
Last.
And the final fourth.
Forver.
Nothing lasts forever.
All things are impermanent.
- Everything is transient, and nothing lasts forever.
These were tiny words King Sejo had left on the back of the plaque five hundred years ago.
Si-woo drew in a deep breath.
Power, the throne, everything won through blood.
In the end, the Buddhist truth that none of it could be taken into death.
The final confession Sejo had left in his old age now lay right before his eyes.