Gilsangcheon [Noun] <Buddhism>

A goddess who grants blessings and virtues. She is depicted with a beautiful face, wearing heavenly garments, and adorned with a crown. In her left hand, she holds a wish-fulfilling jewel. She is also referred to as Gongdeokcheon*,Gongdeokcheon-nyeo*,or Gilsangcheon-nyeo*.

The encyclopedia, which seemed to be at least a decade or two old, offered a brief two-to-three-line description followed by a surprisingly lengthy explanation in smaller print. Taeui vaguely recalled reading about her while going through collections of books related to mythology. A goddess who bestows blessings and prosperity. In Indian mythology, she is called Lakshmi and shares a similar nature. From what he remembered of the illustrations in Indian mythology books, she was depicted as a beautiful woman scattering wealth around her.

Taeui read the encyclopedia entry 3 or 4 times. He understood the definition—the essence of what it said about Gilsangcheon. She was a deity who bestowed blessings and virtues upon those close to her.

However, while he grasped the dictionary’s meaning, the intent behind Ilay’s words still didn’t sit clearly in his mind.

“—You, you’re Jeong Jay’s Gilsangcheon.”

That faintly smiling statement hadn’t been delivered as a mere joke. At the same time, taking it at face value felt somewhat far-fetched, yet it lingered uncomfortably in his thoughts.

It was a ridiculous notion. A goddess who grants blessings to those who worship her? If Ilay’s words were to be taken as they were, it almost sounded like he was implying that Taeui had been the one bringing fortune to his older brother. What nonsense. And yet, the thought nagged at him, refusing to fade.

However, Taeui had no sense of ever being such a figure, nor did he believe it was possible. One’s natural fortune was their own and theirs alone. How could a human possibly influence the luck bestowed by something non-human, even before one’s birth? Besides, if Ilay’s words were to be believed, everyone around Taeui should have been basking in fortune—but that wasn’t the case. Only his brother seemed to carry such extraordinary luck.

“—So, even with that calm innocent face, he’s got his own share of greed, huh? ……Still, I didn’t expect him to try and claim a Gilsangcheon for himself.”

Ilay’s words resurfaced in his mind. Taeui rested his chin on his hand, silently sinking into thought.

He didn’t have enough clarity to reach any firm conclusions, but the memory of Ilay’s words left him feeling oddly unsettled—both irritated and melancholic at the same time.

Claiming a Gilsangcheon. But the Gilsangcheon he sought wasn’t the person named Jeong Taeui.

Taeui clicked his tongue. Suddenly, it felt ridiculous to delve into the matter so seriously. In the end, Ilay’s ambiguous words remained floating in the air and unresolved.

‘Damn it. What’s his deal? Barging into someone else’s room, spewing nonsense, and pulling stunts like that……’

As he grumbled inwardly, Taeui’s face suddenly flushed bright red. The phrase ‘pulling stunts’ brought an uninvited memory of that moment rushing back to him.

The sensation of that pale deliberate hand sliding from his thigh to his groin, from there to his lower abdomen, and then trailing up toward his chest—it felt as if the touch had been etched into his body, resurfacing vividly as if it were happening all over again.

“Hey, hey, snap out of it.”

Taeui slapped his own cheeks a couple of times. He hit hard enough that the sharp sound echoed all the way to the other side of the library. His cheeks quickly turned red. Still, it felt much healthier to redden his face by slapping it than letting it flush from his imagination.

“…..Ouch……, that hurts.”

Tae-ui dropped his gaze back to the dictionary while regretting that he had hit himself too hard. Next to it was a small drawing of a fairy, resembling the patterns on a Bicheonsang*. It seemed like it was meant to depict Gilsangcheon, but it didn’t look like it would bring prosperity or wealth. Instead, the expression somehow looked pitifully forlorn.

A goddess who bestows blessings and fortune upon those who make offerings—there must be plenty who approach her just for that fortune. No wonder she looks so melancholic.

Taeui rested his chin in his hand and thought of his older brother.

Taeui was fortunate enough to find it tiresome to even speak again about his luck. However, in contrast, despite being twins, he was nothing but ordinary. He remembered hearing his mother tell his maternal grandmother with a tone of relief: “At least it’s fortunate that just because Jaeui is so lucky, it doesn’t mean Taeui is terribly unfortunate.”

The old folks often seemed to think that way. Perhaps excessive good fortune like that, because it consumed the luck of others. Having heard such remarks multiple times, his mother sometimes occasionally gazes at him with a worried look.

But thinking back now, perhaps that worry was of a slightly different nature.

His brother was not only incredibly lucky but also exceptionally smart. Because of this, he had been kidnapped and abducted several times. Yet, each time, his brother always returned completely unscathed.

At times like those, his mother would inexplicably stroke Taeui and softly whisper to him: “Be careful. Your brother will always come back unscathed, but you won’t.”

He had been too young to understand what she meant back then. As he grew older, he simply thought: ‘Well, my brother has always been lucky, so of course, he’d be fine.’

“—You know, you’re Jeong Jaeui’s Gilsangcheon.”

“…..What nonsense.”

Taeui let out a scoff.

“If I supposedly bring good luck to the people around me, shouldn’t I be the first to have some luck? But look at my fate. Why is it like this? Where’s the serial killer lurking nearby, or the stubborn guy with a sweet face trying to steal my chastity?”

Saying it out loud only made him feel more dejected. Nothing had gone right since he came to this island.

“…..Wait a second.”

Taeui blinked. Nothing had gone right since he came to this island. In other words, ever since his brother disappeared and he couldn’t meet him, everything had gone wrong. Which meant, maybe Ilay was only half-right. Or rather, maybe it was the opposite case entirely.

In truth, maybe he was just naturally unlucky, and it was only because his brother was by his side that he shared some of that fortune and managed to live like an average person. Yes, that explanation seemed more logical. After all, how absurd would it be for someone who supposedly shares luck with others to have terrible luck themselves?

However, Taeui frowned and shook his head.

No matter how he thought about it, he hadn’t spent every moment of his twenty-something years with his brother. Especially after enrolling in the military academy, where he lived in the dorms and only came home on weekends. Even after graduating from the academy, joining the military, and being stationed, it was the same. In fact, he’d only lived with his brother up until high school graduation. After that, they’d lived apart for years, except for a few months after his military discharge before coming here.

If sharing fortune required being together, then during the time they lived apart, his luck should have been absolutely terrible. Yet Taeui—despite running into an unlucky guy like Lieutenant Kim—had enjoyed a pleasant and lively time both at the military academy and in the army. His brother, too, had achieved remarkable accomplishments in places Tae-ui knew nothing about. Even while living separately, the two had each lived their own lives without any major issues.

“This just doesn’t add up, not at all….. And here I am, wasting my time looking into this nonsense.”

Taeui grumbled as he snapped the encyclopedia shut with a thud.

Maybe it was because of that pointless conversation, but he suddenly felt an urge to see his brother. Not that he had anything particular to say if they met. As usual, it would just be a brief greeting like: ‘You’re here?’, followed by some trivial small talk. Things like having plans with a friend tomorrow or how he got into a fight with a drunk on the street the other day.

It wasn’t as though his brother was indispensable. Even without him, there were friends he could confide in, seniors to share happy news with, and juniors who would drink with him to drown out his troubles. It didn’t have to be his brother. And yet, for no specific reason, he wanted to see him, just to have those trivial conversations.

Maybe that’s what family is, he thought.

Taeui pushed the encyclopedia aside and swung his legs idly while sitting in his chair. Come to think of it, his brother’s birthday wasn’t far off. It was his own birthday too, of course. On that day, he would probably have a chance to call his brother. If not on the exact day, then within a few days before or after, his brother was bound to call him. That’s how it had always been. When they lived together, they’d celebrate face-to-face. When they lived apart, they’d exchange birthday wishes over the phone.

But not that they made a big deal out of it. They would just call and chat about random things, and then, as if remembering it belatedly: “Oh, right, it’s your birthday!” Then they’d say: “Happy birthday. Yeah, you too. You too, hyung.” And after that, they’d go back to chatting about trivial things.

“Hmm—if I call home around our birthday, I wonder if he’ll be back.”

Taeui sat in the creaking chair, slowly rocking back and forth, and muttering to himself. Maybe his brother wouldn’t be back after all. It seemed like he was going to be away for quite a while. But even so, Taeui was sure his brother would call him. They hadn’t made any promises, and it wasn’t like a call was necessary, but he knew it would happen.

“Surely, it’s not that you’re not calling because you’ve cut ties, right?”

He suddenly frowned as the thought crossed his mind. Out of nowhere, he remembered something. A few months ago, before they parted ways, when they were still living together, his brother had said something the night before leaving. He pointed at their pinky fingers, and joked about cutting the red string between them. And then, with a playful gesture, he pretended to snip it.

Tui suddenly wondered why his brother had made a gesture of cutting their bond, but knowing how his brother sometimes did inexplicable things, he let it slide. Surely, it wasn’t the reason his brother had left.

Taeui abruptly stopped drumming his fingers on the desk. Another one of his brother’s cryptic remarks had come to mind.

“—Living life with too much luck can get boring. I need to experience a little misfortune, too.”

“…..”

Tae-ui stared blankly at the library ceiling. The once-white ceiling had aged, with stains scattered here and there. As his eyes traced the patterns of the stains, he fell into thought.

If what Ilay said was true…..

Did that mean his brother knew?

But what exactly did he know, to what extent, and in what way? Taeui had no answers to those questions. He couldn’t even begin to guess. He had no idea how he and his brother were connected, to what degree they were intertwined, or why things had turned out this way. It wasn’t just because they were twins—there were plenty of twins in the world, after all.

“Or maybe everyone around me just becomes luckier…..”

Taeui tilted his head and muttered to himself. Then he let out a small laugh. That didn’t seem likely. It was true that there weren’t any particularly unlucky people around him, but there weren’t many who could be called exceptionally lucky either. Only his brother seemed to stand out in that regard.

“Honestly. It’s like I’m suddenly supposed to be someone extraordinary.”

He murmured the words jokingly as he stood up. Lunch break was almost over. It was time to return to the regular routine of the day.

Normally, as an Assistant Instructor, Taeui would be expected to remain with the Instructor until the regular schedule ended. However, he didn’t see the need to go that far. The purpose of the assistant Instructor staying close to the Instructor was either to handle miscellaneous tasks or to assist if the Instructor encountered a dangerous situation. But the Instructor wasn’t working during the lunch break, so there were no tasks to assist with. As for the Instructor ending up in a dangerous situation? That seemed even more far-fetched.

The idea of Ilay Riegrow being in danger and needing Taeui’s help…..

The possibility of such a situation arising was unimaginable, no matter how hard he tried to picture it. If anything, it seemed more likely that Taeui would be the one needing help. How could someone like that monstrous human ever find himself in danger?

From the start, Taeui had made it clear that outside of regular working hours, he would come and go as he pleased. Ilay hadn’t insisted on him staying close, nor had he wanted him to. Ilay was the type who found it bothersome to have someone constantly hovering around him.

“Ugh….. I’ll have to see that grim face again.”

Taeui sighed as he pushed his chair back into place. Where and who might that monster be terrifying at this moment? Not that it mattered—it would still be somewhere within this facility anyway.

This afternoon’s schedule was empty. The most he had to do was desk work in the Instructor’s office; there wouldn’t be any lectures or sessions with the trainees.

Time for a breather. Whenever Ilay went out to give a lecture and Taeui stood in the back of the classroom to observe, he always felt a knot tightening in his stomach. He had to keep his eyes wide open, worrying that someone might get beaten to death at any moment. And after the lecture, the cold glares from the trainees weren’t directed solely at Ilay—they extended to Taeui as well. It was genuinely bad for his digestion.

Just as he thought, maybe he should head back to the Instructor’s office, and then get up. The library door opened, and 3 or 4 men walked in. Without paying much attention to them, Taeui picked up the encyclopedia to return it to its place. But he felt their gazes approaching and instinctively looked up. They glanced at him briefly.

It didn’t feel good. Their stares weren’t exactly pleasant, and lately in this branch, there weren’t many people in the division who looked at Taeui with anything resembling friendliness. Nine times out of ten, it’s something to quarrel about.

As expected. Just as Taeui tried to ignore them and turn his head away, one of them approached and blatantly started picking a fight.

“What’s this? Why aren’t you sticking close to the Instructor? Shouldn’t you be trailing behind him, ready to serve him, huh?”

“Yeah, shouldn’t you be heading to the Instructor’s lecture? If he catches you slacking off here, you’re gonna get chewed out.”

Taeui responded casually. Couldn’t they at least switch up their tired old repertoire when starting trouble?

Another guy stepped forward next to the one spouting the same tired lines. He seemed slightly more reasonable than his friend. Although his expression was just as unpleasant, he at least refrained from immediate mockery. Instead, he asked directly.

“Hey, Tay. I don’t know much since you’re from another team, but you don’t seem like a weird guy—actually, you seem pretty decent. So why the hell are you following around that lunatic?”

Taeui was so tired of hearing this that he didn’t even feel like answering anymore. He didn’t particularly want to explain, once again, that he hadn’t volunteered for the role of Assistant Instructor.

Normally, becoming an Assistant Instructor involved significant input from superiors, but the first step was always voluntary application. When a new Instructor was appointed, candidates were selected from the division through a process that began with their own willingness to apply. They never just randomly picked someone with no interest in the role.

Well, at least, that’s how it had been—until now.

From the moment his uncle called him to the Instructor’s office, the signs had been ominous. Back then, Taeui didn’t know a thing about how the system worked when it came to appointing assistant Instructors. He just assumed that if the higher-ups ordered something, you had no choice but to bow your head and comply. If he’d known that personal willingness was supposed to come first, he would have never gone along with it…..Although, even if he had resisted, who knows if his uncle would have let him off so easily. That man wasn’t exactly known for backing down.

Taeui let out a long sigh. Whatever the sigh meant, the 2nd guy, the one who had spoken more reasonably earlier, furrowed his brow.

“Everyone’s got their circumstances, sure, but still—why’d you have to end up in a position helping someone like him?”

It seemed like this guy thought Taeui had been blackmailed or had some other unavoidable reason for serving as Ilay’s Assistant Instructor. Honestly, it would be a relief if people believed that—it might even cut down on some of the trouble.

As the 2nd guy softened his tone and backed off a little, Taeui figured this encounter might pass without incident. But then the 3rd guy stepped forward and poured cold water on the situation.

“Joe, you’ve got it wrong. It’s not because of some circumstance. This guy’s been on that lunatic’s side from the start. You know, right? Back when those two guys – Kippenhan’s Instructor and Karl – died, the only ones at the scene were that lunatic and him. Doesn’t it seem suspicious that he was the only one who survived? There’s no way that lunatic would’ve let anyone live unless they were on his side.”

The 3rd guy was outright treating Taeui as an accomplice to murder. Standing in front of him and blocking Tae-ui’s path, they left him with no space to get through. Taeui simply stood there silently, listening to their accusations. He’d heard this particular suspicion before—not just once or twice, but many times from people who started trouble in similar ways. In the worst cases, he’d even been subjected to the insult of being called ‘just like that lunatic!’ a truly humiliating slur for any human being. To be lumped together with a monster who could even evade the Cluster bombs was beyond degrading.

Most insults went in one ear and out the other, but that particular one still stung—it had been so offensive he couldn’t forget it.

He glanced past them at the clock mounted on the wall behind them. Lunch break was almost over. These guys should’ve been borrowing books by now if that was their intention, and preparing for the afternoon schedule. What, were they planning to waste the entire lunch hour picking a fight?

“Not leaving?”

Taeui asked curtly. The group seemed momentarily confused, responding with a puzzled: “Huh?” as if they hadn’t understood him. Taeui repeated himself a bit slower this time.

“I asked, aren’t you leaving? Look at the clock, will you?”

He gestured toward the clock with a nod of his chin. But instead of checking the time, most of them ignored it—only one bothered to glance at the clock. The others seemed to take his short comment as sarcasm, their expressions turning more hostile.

“Oh, so you’re telling us to get lost, huh?”

People seemed to be really twisted. How could anyone interpret “Not leaving?” as “Get lost” was beyond him. Then again, when someone holds a grudge against you, everything you do will seem wrong, and everything you say will come across even worse.

Taeui glanced at the 2nd guy. He was glaring at him with an expression that was both uncomfortable and unpleasant. The more sullen the man looked, the more Taeui felt his own mood sour.

If nothing had happened, these guys probably could have been decent colleagues. Even the ones picking unnecessary fights like this usually had their reasons. If dig a little deeper, and find that most of them are close friends or teammates who have been seriously injured – sometimes even killed – during joint training with the European branch. Most weren’t irrational enough to pick fights for no reason at all with someone unrelated to their grievances.

Sometimes, you just don’t get along with someone because of your natural temperament, but even then, it wouldn’t lead to fights like this.

It would be a lie to say it wasn’t frustrating. Even though he planned to leave in six months, he still wanted to get along with his colleagues while he was here. Whether they were in the same team or not, he wanted to build solid relationships and end each day on a good note, just as he had with his squadmates in the army before he was discharged.

But no—he just had the rotten luck to get tangled up with that lunatic and to have an uncle like that.

‘Uncle, even if I leave in six months, I’ll never forget the fact that you threw me into the lion’s den for those six months. May you savor my grudge for a long, long time—like the deep venom of a snake….. Though, as you know me, even if it’s as deep as a snake’s, it’s useless since I won’t actually retaliate.’

“Tay, I’m telling you this for your own good—cut ties with that guy as soon as you can. You’ve only been with UNHRDO for a few months, so you probably don’t know yet. That guy is seriously insane. Just being near him could bring harm to you. He’s the kind of person who doesn’t hesitate to hurt even the ones by his side.”

The 3rd guy, still seeming genuinely concerned for Taeui, offered his advice with a serious expression.

The real pity was this man. If it weren’t for the current situation, he might have made an excellent colleague. Back in the army, guys like him had always turned out to be dependable comrades.

It’s disappointing. Both regrettable and unfortunate.

Not wanting to argue further or clash any more than necessary, Taeui simply nodded.

“Got it. Thanks for the advice. I’ll keep it in mind.”

It was moments like this that were truly exhausting—when colleagues were no longer trusted companions but bitter, wary figures to be guarded against. When the situation was neither something he could fix nor avoid, the fatigue was inevitable.

Fortunately, it didn’t seem like they were intent on dragging the argument out to the bitter end, and Taeui wasn’t interested in engaging any further. If he responded to every provocation, it would never end.

Just as they were about to walk past him with displeased expressions, something caught their attention. Their faces turned deathly pale, as if they’d seen a ghost, and they froze in place. One of them even stumbled backward in retreat.

Taeui stopped moving as well. He realized that their gazes had settled on something – or someone – right behind him.

“Jeong Taei, your social circle seems to be shrinking. How do you expect to get by like that?”

The slow, amused voice of a man spoke from just over his shoulder. Judging by the sound, he was less than a hand’s width away.

Taeui frowned. Come to think of it, this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Back then, it wasn’t during an argument, but rather during joint training with the European branch. He’d been quietly minding his own business in the library when someone had suddenly approached him from behind, scaring him half to death—even if he hadn’t shown it. Just like now.

“Ilay….. How long have you been standing there?”

Taeui muttered in irritation. He’d wondered earlier who that monster might be terrorizing during this peaceful lunch break, and it turned out to be right here.

Ilay extended his arm past Taeui’s waist and grabbed the encyclopedia Taeui was holding and lightly snatching it away. Flipping to the page Taeui had just been looking at, marked with a ribbon, he let out a faint chuckle: “A ha”

“Gilsangcheon, huh….. This drawing is too ugly. A woman like this wouldn’t even get me excited.” – Ilay said playfully, smirking as he handed the encyclopedia back to Taeui.

Then, noticing the group of men standing in front of him and glaring, he turned his gaze to them and said casually: “What’s this? Do you have business with me?”

Taeui clicked his tongue as he watched the men in front of him harden their expressions and glare menacingly at Ilay. Stepping aside to avoid them, he spoke to Ilay.

“They were here for me. It’s none of your business.”

At that, Ilay lowered his gaze slightly, his eyes cold as he looked at Taeui with an amused smirk, as if mocking him.

“If that’s true, then fine. But if they were here for me, it’s none of your business either. Didn’t I already tell you before? Don’t meddle. Or are you trying to make things unnecessarily complicated for both of us?”

It was the same face as always. To a stranger, it might even seem cheerful, with its faint smile—like the face of someone pleasant and approachable, clean-cut and amiable. He looked like the kind of person who wouldn’t change even after ten or twenty years. And there was one other thing about him that would never change: Those cold desolate eyes. No matter what, that chilling gaze would remain the same.

Taeui clicked his tongue inwardly.

Yeah, the 2nd guy—what was his name, Joe?—he was right. This guy was someone who could hurt even those closest to him without a 2nd thought. Whether it was his own Assistant Instructor, the person who spent more than half the day at his side, or even a childhood friend he’d played games with, if the situation called for it, he wouldn’t hesitate to snap their neck.

‘I’ve said it a hundred times already—getting involved with this guy was never my choice!’ The words surged to the tip of Taeui’s tongue. If it were possible, he would have loved to broadcast it over the entire division’s intercom: ‘I’m only doing this because I was forced to, so please stop picking fights with me!’

But there was a reason he couldn’t just blatantly declare: ‘It’s all because of that guy.’ No matter how things stood, as Assistant Instructor Taeui, he had the ridiculous duty of stopping anyone who tried to pick a fight with or harm Instructor Ilay Riegrow.

While Taeui stood wedged between the three men and the monster, quietly worrying about what might happen in the next few minutes, the men under Ilay’s gaze remained silent. Eventually, the 1st man broke the silence, speaking with a tone laced with sarcasm.

“Business, huh? If we really had business, it should’ve been with you. But since you’re the great Instructor, well, I guess all we can do is pick on the Assistant Instructor.”

It was tempting to commend his bravado, but courage and reckless stupidity were two very different things. In Taeui’s perspective, the 1st man speaking to Ilay like that was nothing short of asking for a trip to the hospital—a colossal act of foolishness against an unbeatable opponent.

Ilay finally laughed. Up until now, his usual unreadable expression had made it impossible to tell if he was smiling or not. But now, for the first time, he showed a glimpse of emotion. However, Taeui knew better—this laugh wasn’t like an ordinary person’s. These unlucky fools with no sense and no brains.

“I don’t hate people who pick pointless fights with me.” – Ilay said – “Sometimes, I even enjoy it. It can be entertaining. And I kind of like the guts it takes—something I don’t really have.”

Ilay stepped forward, a soft smile spreading across his face. His slow deliberate tone sounded almost as if he genuinely appreciated them. It was so gentle that it bordered on kindness, as though he truly meant his words.

Taeui decided to stay out of it. There was nothing to gain by intervening. If he stepped in, the men on the other side would accuse him of fighting on behalf of the lunatic, and Ilay would likely scold him with something more dangerous than words, asking if he really wanted to make things worse for both of them. Getting involved would only bring trouble, not a shred of benefit. He had no interest in playing the hero or satisfying some misplaced sense of justice in situations like this.

But just as he was about to take a few steps back and let things unfold, something unexpected happened—the 2nd man stepped forward.

Taeui frowned. He’d assumed the talkative first guy would be the one to step up, but instead, the quieter 2nd man took the lead. Then again, perhaps it wasn’t entirely unexpected. The world had a way of working like this: The person who caused the mess often shirked responsibility when it was time to clean it up, leaving someone else – usually someone with little stake in the matter – to be pushed into dealing with the fallout. Sometimes, it made Taeui wonder if fairness even existed in the grand scheme of things.

“Maybe fairness is just a fantasy dreamed up by those who long for communism…..”

Taeui muttered irritably, his lips twisting in disapproval.

Despite everything, he kind of liked the 2nd guy. If that man ended up beaten to a pulp and sprawled on the floor, it might actually make him feel a little bad. But even so, the idea of stepping in front of Ilay and that smiling face never crossed his mind. All he could do was sigh and resign himself to waiting for the inevitable unfortunate outcome.

And then, that’s it.

A short chime sounded, signaling the end of the lunch break. The sound wasn’t broadcast inside the library, as it lacked an internal PA system*, but drifted in from the hallway outside.

The men hesitated. Ilay, on the other hand, merely glanced toward the source of the sound, his expression as indifferent as ever. Taeui looked at the clock, then casually shifted his gaze to Ilay.

“I’m really not trying to meddle or anything.” 

Taeui murmured, idly fiddling with the worn corner of the encyclopedia as if the situation didn’t concern him. Ilay’s eyes turned to glance at him, his eyes sharp and far from pleasant. It was a look that clearly said: ‘Do we really need to create more unnecessary trouble for both of us?’

“Ilay, Instructor McKeen is notoriously persistent. Once he singles someone out, he makes life a headache for a long time. Not that I’ve experienced it myself—just something my uncle told me.”

Ilay looked at Taeui with a puzzled expression, as if wondering why he was bringing this up out of nowhere.

“This afternoon, McKeen has no lectures either. Which means it’ll just be you and McKeen in the Instructor’s office. If you mess around somewhere and give him the impression you’re late or slacking, it’s not going to look good. Of course, I’m saying this for your own good. Not because I have the slightest intention of meddling.”

**************

*Gongdeokcheon (공덕천), also known as Gilsangcheon-nyeo (길상천녀): is a figure in Korean mythology. In Indian mythology, she is referred to as Rakshmi, the wife of Vishnu and mother of Kama, the god of love. After being incorporated into Buddhism, she became a goddess who bestows blessings and virtues. 

Bicheonsang (비천상) refers to depictions of celestial beings, often portrayed as flying figures playing musical instruments or holding offerings, commonly found in Korean Buddhist art. These figures symbolize the transmission of divine music and messages from the heavens, embodying the harmonious connection between the spiritual and earthly realms. Bicheonsang are frequently featured in temple murals, sculptures, and decorative elements, serving both aesthetic and symbolic purposes within the context of Korean Buddhism. 

*PA system (Public Address system): amplifies sound for large audiences. It typically includes microphones, amplifiers, and speakers. Commonly used in schools, events, airports, and workplaces for announcements and alerts.