Inside the hospital room, silence ruled.

  Lee Aseok lay curled on his side, his hair spilling like ink over the white pillow.

  He hadn’t intended to sleep. He just wanted to close his eyes for a second. But exhaustion, as always, took him like a silent wave.

  He hadn’t meant to stay this long. He’d already decided: the moment he opened his eyes again, he’d leave. Return to the west zone. Hide himself in the silence of the ruins.

  He knew the signs of oncoming trouble. Every time he stayed too long in someone else’s world, disaster followed.

  Lee Aseok didn’t need intuition.

  He had experience.

  Too much of it.

  Even in sleep, his brows were faintly furrowed.

  Even in sleep, he seemed like he was ready to run.

  The hallway was quiet, lined with warm lights dimmed for the evening.

  The only sound was the soft hum of the air conditioning and Mu Yichen’s footsteps as he walked slowly toward Room 404.

  He’d said goodbye to his uncle, who had left with a storm of curiosity and suspicion.

  And now, Mu Yichen stood once again outside the room that had held his thoughts captive for the past three days.

  He raised a hand and knocked lightly.

  Silence.

  No response.

  Mu Yichen exhaled softly. He hadn’t expected one. He pressed down on the handle and stepped inside.

  The room was still.

  Inside, the figure on the bed hadn’t moved. Lee Aseok lay on his side, one arm lazily draped over the sheets, his long hair spilling like ink across the pillow.

  Mu Yichen approached quietly.

  His eyes moved to the untouched tray of food on the side table. A sigh escaped his lips.

  He lowered himself beside the bed and looked at the youth.

  Asleep, Lee Aseok no longer looked like someone the world had crushed.

  The permanent shadows under his eyes had softened. His expression had lost its habitual defensiveness.

  The gloom was gone.

  What remained was… stunning.

  Mu Yichen swallowed as his gaze hovered over the closed eyes, trailed down the bridge of the nose, and finally… stopped at the soft curve of his lips.

  He felt his heart thud sharply in his chest.

  Too sharply.

  Mu Yichen instinctively brought a hand to his chest, pressing against the rising heat in his lungs.

  His gaze didn’t move.

  The feeling was strange, foreign. Dangerous.

  Beautiful.

  He leaned a little closer without realising it.

  But just then,

  Bzzzzzt.

  His phone vibrated violently in his pocket.

  Mu Yichen blinked, startled out of the moment, and straightened.

  With a quiet sigh, he pulled the device out, glanced down at the screen, and slowly stood.

  He adjusted the sheet over Lee Aseok’s shoulder gently and walked out of the room, closing the door with practiced care.

  Out in the hallway, Mu Yichen answered the call.

  “Mu Yichen,” the voice on the other end sounded urgent. “Something happened.”

  Mu Yichen’s expression sharpened. “What?”

  “The Holy Sword. It moved.”

  Mu Yichen’s breath caught.

  “What do you mean moved?”

  “We’re sending the security footage now. It vibrated for several seconds before going still again. And it’s not just us. Every high-clearance guild master, every council branch received a ping alert from the central relic database.”

  A notification popped on his screen.

  Mu Yichen opened it.

  In the grainy night vision footage, the blade known as Heaven's Will, the holy sword sealed in the deepest vault of the HQ, shivered violently.

  A strange golden light flickered from its hilt before it abruptly stopped.

  Then silence.

  Mu Yichen’s brows furrowed deeply.

  The sword had been completely still since it appeared, but now it moved.

  Everyone knew what it meant.

  If the Holy Sword stirred, it meant something happened to its chosen one.

  The government was already in uproar.

  The sword’s reaction had triggered an internal alert system.

  Reports were being compiled. Guild leaders were forming emergency meetings.

  Mu Yichen’s mind, however, wasn’t with any of them.

  His eyes narrowed, and he slowly lowered his phone.

  “…You reacted,” he whispered, staring down the hallway toward the room he just left. “Why?”

  The news of the Holy Sword’s sudden vibration swept across the continent like wildfire.

  It had been silent since its appearance, utterly still since the day it chose its master.

  So, when the ancient relic trembled, even briefly, it didn’t just ripple across magical sensors. It fractured peace itself.

  Every guild, council, and research branch ignited into chaos.

  Who was the chosen one?

  What had happened?

  Was there danger? Was the contract broken?

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  Speculations spread like poison. Some claimed the chosen one had died.

  Others said a new successor was emerging. The balance of power was about to shift again, and the world was not ready.

  Inside a private chamber of the Mu estate, Mu Yichen stood before a vast holographic screen, watching the footage of the sword for the hundredth time.

  Still no answers.

  He rubbed the center of his forehead.

  It felt like something was there, right in front of him. He had brushed against the edge of a truth he couldn’t see.

  Something didn’t add up.

  The sword had reacted… and yet the world hadn’t changed.

  Mu Yichen narrowed his eyes.

  “…No,” he murmured, “it has changed. We just haven’t realised it yet.”

  But he chose not to act, not yet. The sword’s silence after its movement told him something else.

  Wait.

  The chosen one would surface. He was sure of it.

  In the meantime, duty called.

  With the Holy Sword stirring, his mother had summoned him home. Guild leaders required reports. The press spun theories by the hour.

  Seo MinHyun was dragged into political negotiations, much to his outrage, and Park Taegun had been deployed to stabilise border gates.

  Even so, Mu Yichen left behind a quiet command:

  “Watch Lee Aseok. Let him do whatever he wants. But if he tries to harm himself, stop him. Immediately.”

  Meanwhile, in the top-floor suite of the Mu-affiliated hospital, Lee Aseok had done nothing but sleep.

  Three days.

  No knocks. No visitors. Just silence, and food left outside the door like ritual offerings.

  He didn’t complain.

  If anything, he considered extending his stay.

  He laid on his side with his arm under the pillow, eyes barely open, letting the sterile ceiling blur into nothingness.

  His thoughts drifted, unanchored.

  Until…

  SLAM!

  The door burst open like it owed someone money.

  “AAARGH! I’M DYING! I’M ABSOLUTELY DYING!”

  Seo MinHyun stormed into the room like a hurricane in human form, dragging behind him a deeply unwilling Park Taegun and a sighing Mu Yichen.

  Lee Aseok blinked.

  Then turned his head to the wall.

  “My life is ruined! You…long-haired brat! Do you know how many hours of meetings I suffered this week?!”

  Seo MinHyun flung his arms in the air like a theater actor on his final performance. “Do you know how many emergency councils I had to sit through because some stupid sword trembled?! Huh?!”

  Park Taegun stepped around a chair and closed the door with a click. “It was one meeting.”

  “One very long meeting!”

  Lee Aseok didn’t move.

  Seo MinHyun stared at him. “Are you even listening?!”

  Lee Aseok closed his eyes.

  Seo MinHyun leaned in. “I’m talking about you, you know! You’re the one who passed out like a drama queen in front of a dungeon gate and triggered the apocalypse!”

  “MinHyun,” Mu Yichen warned softly, “don’t yell.”

  “I’m not yelling!” Seo MinHyun yelled, hands on his hips. “I’m venting! There’s a difference!”

  Mu Yichen rubbed his temple and gave Park Taegun a tired glance.

  “Don’t look at me,” Park Taegun said without emotion. “You knew bringing him was a mistake.”

  Seo MinHyun glared. “I heard that!”

  Lee Aseok rolled over on the bed, tugged the blanket over his head, and mumbled, “Noisy.”

  Seo MinHyun gasped. “Did you just call me noisy?!”

  Mu Yichen’s lips twitched. “…He did.”

  Park Taegun’s arms were already crossed. “Well. At least he’s alive.”

  Seo MinHyun paced the hospital room like he was being tortured, hands flailing as he complained to no one in particular.

  “I’m telling you, I’ve signed at least five hundred documents in the past two days! What am I, a chosen one’s babysitter?! I didn’t train for this! I have style, power, flair, not... bureaucracy!”

  He kicked an invisible rock and groaned dramatically, “And all for some chosen hero who hasn’t even shown up! Can you believe this?”

  Park Taegun stood near the door with arms folded, exuding calm that seemed to irritate MinHyun even more.

  “They should’ve warned us,” MinHyun continued. “Chosen ones might come with divine blessings, but they also bring disaster..bureaucratic disaster!”

  While he was still ranting, his gaze swept across the room and landed on Lee Aseok, who sat silently on the bed in a loose, casual hoodie and joggers, sleeves half-draped over his hands.

  His long hair was loosely tied at the back, and his face was blank, half-asleep, half-bored.

  Seo MinHyun’s voice softened slightly.

  “…Hey, long-hair. You doing okay?”

  Park Taegun also shifted, his sharp eyes studying Lee Aseok. “Are you recovering properly?”

  Of course, no answer came.

  Lee Aseok just blinked once, slowly, and looked at the window like he hadn’t heard them.

  Park Taegun sighed. Seo MinHyun grunted and sat on the windowsill, shrugging. “We’re really getting used to this cold treatment.”

  “It’s better than him jumping.” Taegun said bluntly.

  MinHyun shuddered. “True. Still gives me nightmares.”

  Mu Yichen, who had remained silent, looked at Lee Aseok thoughtfully. “Are you going back to the West Zone?”

  At that, Lee Aseok slightly tilted his head. A twitch of movement. A vague acknowledgment.

  Seo MinHyun scoffed. “Back to that ghost town? Seriously? You know it’s like a graveyard over there, no people, no light, no civilisation.”

  Park Taegun nodded. “There are quiet places outside the city if that’s what you’re looking for. You don’t have to live in isolation. And you’re not broke. You can live comfortably.”

  Still, no reply.

  Lee Aseok leaned back against the headboard, eyes closed, not sleeping, just done.

  Mu Yichen didn’t press further. He already knew it wouldn’t work. Words didn’t reach Lee Aseok.

  He didn’t reject people. He simply ignored them out of existence.

  That kind of silence was heavier than a thousand rejections.

  Just as a hollow silence settled in the room.

  BRRRRRRRT!!

  All three phones lit up and rang simultaneously. A shrill emergency ringtone blared in sync.

  At the same moment, an ear-splitting siren wailed through the hospital halls, piercing, sharp, and full of dread.

  Outside, red lights flashed across the buildings.

  A single announcement echoed through the speakers:

  “Attention. This is not a drill. A dungeon break has occurred. All personnel to emergency positions. Citizens, seek shelter immediately.”

  The shrill cry of the alarm tore through the air like a dagger.

  Inside the room, the change was immediate.

  Mu Yichen’s soft, gentle expression disappeared. His jaw tightened, his eyes sharp.

  Park Taegun, already leaning on the windowsill, straightened with practiced precision and pulled out his terminal.

  Even Seo MinHyun, for all his complaining, cursed and swiped open his phone.

  “Great. Just great,” MinHyun muttered through clenched teeth. “I knew this week was cursed.”

  Park Taegun’s eyes flicked over the notification. “B-rank gate. Sector 11C. The assigned guild failed to clear it before the cycle reset.”

  Mu Yichen stepped forward. “We’re going.”

  He turned toward Lee Aseok, who was still sitting on the hospital bed as if the entire world wasn’t falling apart outside the window.

  Mu Yichen met those half-lidded, indifferent eyes and said firmly, “Don’t leave the room. No matter what happens.”

  Lee Aseok blinked.

  Then turned his face away and lay down.

  That was it. No promise. No reply. Just that usual cold dismissal.

  Mu Yichen didn’t even sigh this time. He simply turned on his heel. “Let’s go.”

  Seo MinHyun grumbled as he followed. “Seriously. We should lock him in a cage next time. So much trouble for one guy who doesn’t even speak.”

  Park Taegun added calmly, “At least cages are useful. They keep things inside.”

  The three left quickly, professionalism cutting through the usual banter. Before heading out, Mu Yichen gave a single instruction to the team of bodyguards stationed outside:

  “Let him be. But if he tries anything reckless, anything, stop him.”

  The guards nodded.

  Back inside the room, Lee Aseok lay with his back to the door.

  His face was half-buried in the pillow, his long hair spread across the sheets like black ink in water. The wail of the alarms outside didn’t even make him flinch.

  As if none of it concerned him.

  As if this world had nothing to do with him at all.

  The guards stationed nearby glanced in. They looked at each other.

  “...Is he asleep already?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “Tch. That guy’s heart rate doesn’t even change. Is he really human?”

  Another replied, “All he ever does is sleep. Even the monsters might fall asleep if they saw him.”

  They chuckled, keeping one eye on the street and another on their feed. Still, their expressions turned grim as they watched the chaos unfold outside the window.

  Outside was a different story.

  Sirens wailed. Emergency announcements blared from speakers across the street:

  “All citizens, evacuate to the nearest shelter. Do not approach the gate zone. This is not a drill..repeat, this is not a drill.”

  People screamed as they ran. Police and emergency responders struggled to keep order.

  Children cried, mothers clutched their bags, and entire groups crowded into the stairwells of nearby buildings.

  The sky had darkened unnaturally around Sector 11C. A dull red light seeped from the massive crack that had split open in the middle of the street, the broken dungeon gate.

  From within, the faint, guttural growl of monsters began to rise.

  Hunters, those who were in the area or lived nearby, were already on the move, sprinting toward the break. A few muttered bitterly as they pulled on armor or summoned weapons.

  “Damn guilds. Useless idiots can’t even manage a B-rank properly.”

  “Which guild was it this time? Do they want to get disbanded?”

  “I don’t care. I’m not dying for someone else’s mistake.”

  Even so, they still rushed forward. Because that’s what hunters did.

  Meanwhile, the gate pulsed.

  And something began to crawl through.

  Back in the hospital, Lee Aseok finally opened his eyes.

  Slowly. Lazily.

  Like a man who’d slept too much.

  He stared at the ceiling, his reddish-brown eyes dull and unreadable. He listened to the sound of the sirens outside. The faint tremor of fear in the air.

  He blinked.

  Then closed his eyes again.

  “…Noisy.”

  Outside, the chaos only grew.

  No matter how many years passed, a dungeon break always brought the same old symptoms, panic, fear, and confusion.

  Hunters nearby barely had time to strap on gear before racing to the scene.

  The guild that had failed to manage the gate was already being cursed in every direction.

  "Idiots!"

  "Do they want to be disbanded?!"

  "This is why nobody trusts mid-tier guilds anymore!"

  And then…

  A new, sharper panic spread.

  The monsters that had poured out of the gate were not your usual ones.

  They flew.

  Bat-like wings. Needle-sharp talons. Glowing eyes and shrieks that pierced the ears. They swooped between buildings, crashing into windows, hunting like birds of prey.

  And without a solid formation of mages, especially wind-type support, the hunters on the ground were at a severe disadvantage.

  Explosions and screams echoed between the buildings.

  Just as it was getting worse…

  Someone shouted: “It’s Mu Yichen! Mu Yichen’s team is here!”

  Heads turned.

  Hope surged like a current through the crowd.

  every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Yes, every week!