It was late at night.
A tall, sturdy monk climbed the stone steps leading up a small hill. At its summit stood an ancient monastery.
The monk appeared to be in his sixties. Though faint wrinkles lined his face, he still retained a striking handsomeness. His physique was powerful, and his mere presence exuded an undeniable pressure.
Yet beneath that pressure was a calming aura that inspired a deep sense of security—like a great mountain capable of holding up the sky should it ever fall.
Within his eyes flickered a faint glint of royal majesty, commanding respect and obedience without a single word. He looked less like a monk and more like a king draped in the robes of one.
Over his shoulder, he carried something wrapped carefully in a blanket, while his other hand gripped a wooden staff.
The night was silent. The cries of cicadas and the rhythmic tapping of the monk’s staff against the stone steps seemed to hold a quiet conversation as he ascended the hill.
At the top stood the monastery, old yet majestic, carrying the weight of countless years.
Spirituality filled the air on this seemingly desolate hilltop. One could feel an indescribable peace and tranquility.
Two monks stood waiting at the entrance.
The first was a slightly burly middle-aged man with kind eyes. The second appeared to be in his late twenties, possessing a youthful face and a well-maintained physique.
The two monks stepped forward to greet the elder monk.
“Sir, where did you go so late at night?” the burly monk asked.
The abbot smiled faintly.
“I suddenly felt the urge to take a stroll.”
“Sir, what are you carrying?” the young monk asked.
The elder monk did not answer. Instead, he carefully handed over the bundle resting on his shoulder to the burly monk.
The moment the cloth was pulled aside, the monk’s eyes widened.
“Amitabha… this is a child!”
The burly monk exclaimed in shock.
He quickly placed a hand on the child’s forehead. His expression immediately changed.
“His body is burning up. He’s running a high fever.”
The young monk looked toward the abbot.
“Sir… this is?”
“I found him outside the orphanage while returning,” the abbot replied calmly. “He was moments away from being attacked by a rabid dog.”
He paused briefly before continuing.
“He is lucky that I arrived in time. Otherwise, he would have already become dog food by now.”
“Tejo,” the burly monk called out, “go wake the doctor. I’ll take the child to the clinic.”
“Yes!”
Tejo nodded and hurriedly turned to leave, but before he could take more than a few steps, the abbot’s voice stopped him.
“After his treatment is complete, bring him to my study to rest.”
The abbot spoke indifferently, before walking away without another glance.
Both Tejo and the burly monk froze in place.
The two exchanged bewildered looks, neither speaking.
After a brief moment, the burly monk carried the unconscious child toward the monastery’s clinic, while Tejo rushed off to wake the doctor monk.
*****
Copyright © [May] [2026] [The Rainy Imp]. All rights reserved.
Aren slowly opened his eyes.
A sharp buzz rang through his head. His entire body ached, and every breath that escaped his lips felt scorching hot.
His throat burned with dryness, yet no words came out no matter how hard he tried.
Blurred ceiling light swayed above him.
He seemed to be inside some kind of clinic.
Voices drifted in from nearby.
With great effort, Aren slightly turned his head. His hazy vision soon caught sight of two figures standing beside the bed.
One was an old monk with messy hair and heavy bags beneath his eyes, looking as though he had been dragged out of bed against his will. His face radiated pure irritation.
Beside him stood the young monk from earlier—Tejo.
“Can’t you see I’m too old for this kind of work?” the old monk grumbled. “Why drag me here in the middle of the night?”
“Stop whining, old man,” Tejo replied lazily while picking at his ear. “If you have complaints, take them up with the abbot. He’s the one who brought back this half-dead brat out of nowhere.”
“Tch.” The old monk clicked his tongue.
“Who even goes out for a midnight stroll and returns carrying some roadside child?”
“Our abbot does, apparently,” Tejo answered with a shrug. “So stop yapping and do your job, you quack.”
The doctor monk’s eyes twitched.
“Watch your mouth, brat. The next time you come crawling back with broken bones and twenty-seven stab wounds, this ‘quack’ might accidentally forget a knife inside your stomach.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say.”
“Tch.”
The doctor clicked his tongue once more before finally turning toward Aren.
“And you, brat… why did you have to collapse right when the monk passed by? If you wanted to die, couldn’t you have waited a few more minutes? Then I wouldn’t have lost my sleep over this.”
“Are you an idiot?” Tejo frowned. “Actually, forget I asked. You’re a quack to begin with.”
“What did you say, you little—”
“Who would sleep on the roadside willingly?” Tejo interrupted. “Can’t you see the marks on his face? Someone clearly threw him out.”
The doctor narrowed his eyes as he examined Aren more closely.
"Then it is those imbeciles who are at fault then. Can't they finish the job properly. Useless miscreants."
“Will both of you stop already?”
A deep voice suddenly interrupted the argument.
The burly monk entered the room carrying a bowl of steaming water and cloth bandages.
“Can’t you see that the child’s condition is serious?”
“Tch.”
Both Tejo and the doctor clicked their tongues in unison before looking away.
The doctor monk finally began the treatment properly.
He first checked Aren’s pulse before placing several fingers against pressure points along his neck and wrist. After examining the fever, he crushed a few medicinal herbs into a paste and applied it across Aren’s bruised cheeks and swollen wounds.
A bitter medicinal smell soon filled the room.
The doctor then prepared a syringe and injected medicine into Aren’s arm.
By the time the monk completed his treatment, Aren felt overwhelmed by exhaustion.
His eyelids gradually grew heavier.
The voices around him became distant and muffled, fading further and further away as darkness slowly consumed his consciousness once again.
"How is it?"Asked the burly monk.
"His condition is too critical. If it was anyone else even in this entire country, they would not even have a chance.
"This brat is extremely lucky. Because, I am the one who is treating him.” The doctor monk felt irritated. “That too free of cost.”
"Even then it is hard to say unless 2 days have passed. He needs time to stabilize his condition.
"If his time in this world still remains, he will survive."
Tejo snorted, "the boss himself rescued him. Of course he will survive."
"Ya ya whatever, I did what I could. I will leave to rest. This kind of night duty is too much for my old bones...."
Aren who could no longer hold it, finally his mind shut down.
*****
After an unknown amount of time, Aren slowly opened his eyes.
The fever had not fully subsided, and his body still felt unbearably heavy.
Sitting beside the bed was a girl around the same age as him.
The moment she noticed Aren opening his eyes, she hurriedly ran out of the room, surprised.
“Teacher! He woke up!”
Her voice echoed through the hallway.
Aren stared blankly at the ceiling.
‘Where am I…?
‘Who was that girl…?
‘I think I’ve seen her somewhere before…
‘Water…’
His throat burned painfully dry, yet he lacked even the strength to speak.
As his hazy thoughts drifted aimlessly, he suddenly recalled something.
She… might be from the same class as me.
Soon, several children around his age cautiously peeked into the room from outside the doorway. None of them dared step inside completely.
Curious eyes stared at Aren as though he were some strange animal.
“What are you lot doing here?”
A loud voice suddenly echoed through the hall.
“Go back to your studies!”
The burly monk appeared at the end of the corridor, instantly causing the children to scatter in panic.
“And you too.”
The monk turned toward the girl who had called him earlier, who was looking at her friends with schadenfreude when the monk scolded them.
She froze upon being singled out, the next moment, she stuck out her tongue mischievously before running away with a giggle.
The burly monk could only shake his head helplessly at her childish antics.
A faint smile appeared on his face before he entered the room.
Pulling over a stool, he sat beside Aren’s bed and gently helped him sit up slightly.
He then brought a cup of water to Aren’s lips.
Aren drank slowly and greedily, causing him to cough slightly. The cool water eased the burning pain in his throat.
Afterward, the monk carefully lowered him back onto the bed.
“Don’t worry,” the monk said gently. “You’re safe. This is a monastery.”
“Our abbot found you collapsed outside the orphanage and brought you here.”
“We’ve already informed both your orphanage and your school.”
“You still need rest, so go back to sleep.”
Hearing those words, Aren struggled to open his mouth.
“T… thank… you…”
The words came out hoarse and weak, as he once again succumbed to sleep.
The burly monk looked slightly surprised.
Despite his young age and terrible condition, the child’s first instinct had been gratitude.
A gentle smile formed on the monk’s lips.
But a moment later, looking at the mistreated child, a cold, murderous glint flashed across his eyes.
******
Inside the meditation hall, the abbot sat quietly before a scripture table, calmly reading ancient texts beneath the dim candlelight.
The hall was silent.
Not ordinary silence, but a deep stillness—like the depths of the ocean itself.
The burly monk entered alongside Tejo, their footsteps light and restrained.
Neither dared disturb the atmosphere.
The two stood silently to the side and waited.
Only after several moments did the abbot finally speak.
“Speak.”
His gaze never left the scripture in his hands.
The burly monk lowered his head slightly.
“It took three days, but the child’s condition has stabilized.”
“For the moment, he is safe.”
“He regained consciousness earlier today. The doctor said he only needs rest now. He should recover fully within a day or two.”
The abbot gave a faint hum of acknowledgment, still not looking away from the scripture.
The burly monk continued.
“I also investigated the child’s background.”
“His name is Aren. He was raised in one of the orphanages under our monastery’s care. It was previously managed by old man Niel on our behalf.”
“A few years ago, Niel once brought the child here for treatment due to a strange health condition. Even the old doctor couldn’t determine the cause.”
“Afterward, Niel continued raising him and later enrolled him into one of the schools operated by the monastery.”
The burly monk chuckled softly.
“As it turns out, he’s even in the same class as our monastery children.”
Tejo folded his arms beside him.
“But that’s not the strange part.” The burly monk continued.
“We checked the old medical records left behind by Niel during the child’s consultation years ago.”
A strange expression appeared on the burly monk’s face.
“Honestly… even I found it hard to believe.”
A brief silence filled the meditation hall.
“That child…”
“…is the son of the Nightingale.”
The page-turning stopped completely.
For the first time since they entered, the abbot stopped.
He slowly lifted his gaze into the distance.
****
After a long silence, the abbot finally spoke.
“That child…”
“Perhaps this was meant to be.”
His eyes remained fixed upon the scripture before him.
“It is unfortunate. She threw away the only person who may have truly loved her with sincerity.”
A faint sigh escaped his lips.
“If only she had not given up on herself.”
The light flickered softly within the silent meditation hall.
“Since he was born as her child… I hope, one day he will inherit her will.”
Tejo frowned slightly.
“Will?” he asked. “Did his mother leave behind some kind of inheritance?”
“I am not speaking of money.”
The abbot calmly turned another page.
Tejo and the burly monk exchanged confused glances, but neither interrupted further.
After hesitating briefly, the burly monk continued.
“This may sound cruel to say…”
“…but perhaps it was fortunate that you found him when you did.”
“Oh?”
The abbot responded indifferently.
“The child was delirious due to the fever,” the burly monk explained. “He kept muttering things like—”
‘It wasn’t me… it was the brothers… they’re doing bad things…’
“And several other incomprehensible words.”
“But more importantly…
“How could an orphanage abandon a child onto the streets in the middle of winter?
“And not just any orphanage—one operating under our monastery.”
His voice carried restrained anger.
“So I had Tejo investigate the matter.”
Tejo folded his arms and leaned against one of the pillars.
“What we found was interesting.
“After old man Niel died, the woman assisting at the orphanage took control of the place. Not long after, she brought in her lover.
“The two began using the older boys to distribute drugs through schools and nearby districts.
“Aren was probably punished for discovering something he shouldn’t have.”
The burly monk’s eyes turned cold.
“And behind it all are some young fools being funded by foreign forces.
“They understand they cannot step onto this land openly, so they are using these idiots as pawns.”
“If they succeed, they profit.”
“If they fail, they lose nothing but a bit of money.”
A sneer appeared on his face.
“Those fools understand nothing.
“They do not understand who protects this land.
“They do not understand why this nation remained untouched for so many years.”
The atmosphere inside the hall grew heavy.
“They do not understand…
“…the terror of those who uphold dharma.”
The burly monk’s usual gentle demeanor vanished completely.
“They do not understand what it means that a sovereign exists upon this land.”
“And as long as we remain here, outside filth will never be allowed to corrupt it.”
Tejo silently watched from the side.
After calming himself slightly, the monk continued.
“Even if we would have discovered it eventually, finding it early means fewer innocent people will suffer.”
“I will handle this matter personally.”
“One week.”
“We will wipe this filth clean and send a warning to those outsiders who dared raise their gaze toward this land.”
His eyes gleamed sharply.
“We will remind them why the righteous are feared.”
“Evil thrives when the good remain silent.”
“And on this land…”
“…the good are not silent.”
“No need.”
The abbot’s calm voice abruptly cut through the hall like cold water.
The burly monk froze.
“…Sir?”
“You will do no such thing.”
Silence.
The burly monk looked genuinely stunned.
“Then… when shall we act?”
“You will not act.”
The abbot finally closed the scripture in his hands.
“Leave everything as it is.”
“The foreign forces.”
“The young fools.”
“The orphanage.”
“Leave them all untouched.”
Tejo’s expression stiffened slightly.
The burly monk could no longer hide his confusion.
“But sir… if we ignore this—”
“You have already renounced the world.”
The abbot’s gaze remained calm and detached.
“Why involve yourself in worldly affairs?”
The burly monk fell silent.
The abbot continued.
“Once the child’s treatment is complete, send him back to the orphanage.”
“Afterward, continue your own duties.
“Just make sure that those who are good and loyal. Those who uphold dharma are protected.”
The burly monk looked as though he wished to argue further, while beside him Tejo merely blinked repeatedly in disbelief.
But the abbot gave them no opportunity to object.
“You may leave.”
The two monks bowed silently before withdrawing from the meditation hall.
The hall once again sank into a silence as deep as the ocean.
*****
The abbot remained seated before the scriptures, unmoving, yet, unable to focus.
After a long while he quietly murmured to himself.
“Nightingale… huh.”
A faint trace of nostalgia flickered across his eyes.
“Other than a few brief encounters, our paths never truly crossed.”
“If they had…”
“…perhaps I could have helped that child a little.”
“I hope she finds peace in her next life.”
“If only he could have a chance to spend some time with his mother. With each other.”
The old monk slowly closed his eyes, sighing.
“Fate is the cruelest of all things.”
The abbot lowered his gaze toward the scripture before him.
“A mother is a child’s first teacher.”
“From her, one learns how to see the world… how to live within it.”
“There are very few things in life through which one can truly repay their parents.”
His voice gradually softened.
“If only that child had the chance to understand what a mother’s love truly feels like…”
For a moment, the only sound within the hall was the faint crackling of candlelight.
Then, as though recalling something, the abbot spoke again.
“If I remember correctly… the house where she spent her final days was never among the properties she donated to the monastery.”
“It was left behind for that person.”
His gaze drifted into the distance.
“If only the child had been given the chance to spend some time there…”
“…to feel the traces she left behind.”
The abbot fell silent.
After a long pause—
“…perhaps.”
A faint ripple appeared within the calm eyes of the old monk. His lips curving into a slight smile.
Copyright © [May] [2026] [The Rainy Imp]. All rights reserved.
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