Lee Aseok sighed. Audibly.

  “See!?” Seo MinHyun cried, pointing. “He is sighing like he’s been betrayed by air itself!”

  Mu Yichen, still seated in silence, slowly turned his eyes to Lee Aseok.

  Lee Aseok, eyes now fully closed, had shifted into a new position: head leaning on the sofa’s edge, knees half-curled, arms crossed loosely as the holy sword continued to hover lazily in front of him like a faithful lamp.

  Seo MinHyun’s eye twitched. “Wait. Wait. I just realized something.”

  He stopped pacing and turned toward Lee Aseok with wide eyes.

  “Are you even awakened?”

  Mu Yichen’s eyes flicked up.

  Park Taegun, too, raised an eyebrow.

  Seo MinHyun clapped his hands once and looked between the others. “No seriously. When we found him in the west zone, we checked him with the device, right? He didn’t show up as awakened. I thought he was a normal civilian.”

  Mu Yichen went still for a beat. Then slowly turned his head toward Park Taegun.

  Park Taegun understood without a word.

  He walked away, returned shortly from upstairs, and approached with the compact awakening-measurement device in his hand.

  “Let’s confirm,” he said, pressing the glowing blue disc near Lee Aseok’s wrist.

  The device blinked once. Then stopped.

  Nothing.

  Seo MinHyun leaned in like he was watching a horror movie. “Still zero?”

  “Still zero,” Park Taegun confirmed.

  All three of them looked at Lee Aseok.

  Lee Aseok did not open his eyes.

  The holy sword continued to float, calmly radiating divine energy like it had no concern in the world.

  Mu Yichen’s brows drew together, his expression calm but faintly troubled. “He’s hiding it.”

  “Obviously!” Seo MinHyun threw his hands up. “But why? Is he some secret weapon? An experimental sleeper agent? Some kind of magically repressed anomaly?”

  “Unlikely,” Park Taegun said flatly.

  “I’m allowed to be dramatic, soldier man,” Seo MinHyun muttered.

  Ignoring the two, Mu Yichen turned toward Lee Aseok again. His gaze softened.

  There was something strange about it, the way Lee Aseok, now unmistakably tied to the holy sword, still felt... unreachable.

  Even now, in close proximity, he remained like fog over water: there, visible, and yet impossible to grasp.

  Mu Yichen leaned forward slightly. His voice came out low, gentle.

  “You’re chosen by the holy sword, Aseok.”

  Silence.

  The holy sword flickered faintly. It hovered just beside Lee Aseok’s shoulder like it wanted to nuzzle him. Like it wanted to be acknowledged.

  Lee Aseok didn’t react.

  His long hair fell over one side of his face, half-shadowed. His breathing was soft, steady.

  If it weren’t for the slight curve of his fingers over the cushion, he would’ve looked like a mannequin someone placed for display.

  Mu Yichen waited a few seconds longer.

  Still nothing. Not a twitch of the brow. Not the lift of an eyelid.

  Seo MinHyun leaned toward Park Taegun. “Is he dead?”

  “He yawned three minutes ago,” Park replied.

  “Oh. Right.” Seo MinHyun squinted. “He’s really committed to the bit.”

  Mu Yichen exhaled quietly, then sat back on the sofa, rubbing his temple.

  No response. No curiosity. Not even indifference, it was something deeper than that.

  A kind of internal barricade, like the world no longer existed for him unless it physically touched him. And even then, only maybe.

  Mu Yichen frowned.

  He didn’t understand.

  It wasn’t rejection. It wasn’t even fear.

  It was a detachment.

  As if Lee Aseok had long since given up expecting anything good from the world, and so the moment the world offered him something, he simply ignored it like a glitch in a broken machine.

  Seo MinHyun finally broke the silence again.

  “I don’t care what the sword says,” he muttered. “This guy needs therapy. Or a very aggressive cat to sit on his face in the morning.”

  Park Taegun was quiet, but even he looked faintly puzzled.

  “He must have high-level concealment abilities,” Park said. “That device hasn’t failed in years.”

  Mu Yichen’s voice was softer now. “But why hide it?”

  Park shook his head. “We won’t get answers if he won’t talk.”

  Mu Yichen let out a quiet sigh.

  He was the type of man who never raised his voice, never let frustration show. But now, seated across from the unbothered form of Lee Aseok, even he was beginning to show cracks in his composure.

  Lee Aseok was a wall.

  Not a wall that was cold and towering and threatening.

  But the kind that stood in a forgotten alleyway, grey and silent, absorbing every attempt at communication and offering nothing in return.

  A wall with no handholds. No doors. Not even a “No Trespassing” sign, because that would’ve at least been a response.

  Mu Yichen’s eyes lingered on the youth once more. Long hair falling messily past his shoulders. Eyes half-lidded, barely registering the existence of others.

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  A body posture that screamed, don’t bother me, yet still somehow managed to invite worry.

  He had stopped trying to talk to him.

  Seo MinHyun, who had been pacing again in the corner like a dramatic actor between takes, caught the moment Mu Yichen sighed.

  “…You really can’t get through to him, huh,” Seo MinHyun muttered, then slumped down into a seat with uncharacteristic quiet. The light-hearted spark in his voice was gone, replaced by something subdued.

  For a brief moment, the room fell into stillness again.

  Even Seo MinHyun, spotlight-seeking and theatrically unstable as he was, didn’t have the energy to fill the silence.

  On the other side of the living room, Lee Aseok shifted slightly.

  Not out of discomfort. Out of irritation.

  This entire situation was a nuisance.

  The sword, that damn sword..floated gently above him like it had bonded with him for eternity. No matter where he turned his face, it was there. Glowing softly. Shimmering like it was in love.

  Lee Aseok didn’t even want it.

  He wanted to go back to the west zone. That desolate stretch of ruins, far from civilization, where even wild monsters gave up trying to live.

  He missed his broken bedroll and quiet days under rusted roofs. Missed the silence where not even flies buzzed, where nothing breathed but him.

  He missed being alone.

  But now?

  Now, he was stuck in a mansion with three very loud, very persistent people, one of whom talked enough for five.

  And he couldn’t leave.

  Because of that damn sword.

  If he walked outside, anyone within a hundred-meter radius would see the floating gold artifact tailing him like a stalker in love. There was no hiding it. No pushing it away. No peeling it off and throwing it in a ditch.

  And worst of all..

  He was stuck with them.

  Lee Aseok internally sighed and stared at the ceiling. Was this divine punishment? Did he accidentally offend a god he didn’t know about? Was there a curse for being chosen against your will?

  He was almost convinced the universe hated him.

  Again.

  The silence dragged. No one moved. Even Seo MinHyun didn’t whine.

  Mu Yichen glanced sideways. Seo MinHyun had gone strangely quiet, sitting cross-legged on the floor, leaning back against the table like a dejected drama lead after a failed audition. His usual swagger was nowhere to be seen.

  Park Taegun, in contrast, stood near the wall with arms crossed, as if he’d rather be sparring with a monster than wasting another minute here.

  The silence stretched, taut like a wire.

  “I can’t believe I canceled my morning schedule for this,” Seo MinHyun muttered finally, voice a dramatic whisper. “I had an interview. I was going to wear a new jacket.”

  “Sit properly,” Park Taegun said, not even looking at him.

  “You’re not my mother.”

  “You sit like a raccoon digging through trash.”

  Seo MinHyun gasped. “Excuse you? This is a relaxed, artistic posture..”

  A sudden click of the front door interrupted him.

  The four of them turned in unison as the door swung open, revealing a winded man with disheveled hair and half-tucked shirt.

  Mu Haejoon looked like he’d run here from halfway across the city. His eyes scanned the room.

  Then landed on the floating sword.

  Then on the young man sitting cross-legged on the armchair, slumped like a ghost haunting its own body.

  Mu Haejoon stared for a full beat. And then, he laughed. A loud, breathless, stunned laugh.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Uncle,” Mu Yichen stood up immediately. “You came quickly..”

  “Obviously,” Mu Haejoon cut him off, waving a hand. “You said the holy sword chose someone. I thought you were joking. Or drunk.”

  Seo MinHyun raised his hand lazily. “He doesn't drink.”

  “I wish I drank,” Mu Haejoon said, still looking at the glowing sword. “Because this..this isn’t real.”

  He pointed a finger at Lee Aseok, whose face remained stuck in a half-lidded glare of absolute indifference.

  “That’s him right? That’s the one the holy sword picked?”

  “Unfortunately,” Seo MinHyun added. “We’re also confused.”

  Lee Aseok’s hand twitched. Like he might slap someone.

  Mu Haejoon exhaled through his nose and ran a hand through his hair. “God. This kid...”

  They all expected him to say something like get up, or introduce himself, or maybe even what the hell are you doing here.

  Instead, Mu Haejoon stared at the floating sword, then at the youth who looked like he’d rather be digested by a C-rank swamp beast than sit in this expensive, sunlit apartment.

  Mu Haejoon had trained over fifty swordbearers in his lifetime. He had seen all types. arrogant prodigies, weeping underdogs, overzealous fanatics, even a guy who tried to flirt with his sword. But nothing, absolutely nothing, had prepared him for this.

  Because this?

  This was just absurd.

  “I’m going to ask one question,” Mu Haejoon said, eyes fixed on the boy slumped on the couch.

  Mu Yichen subtly straightened his posture.

  Seo MinHyun stopped mid-mirror-check, hand halfway through fixing his bangs.

  Park Taegun didn’t move, but the twitch in his jaw meant he was listening too.

  No one had dared to ask it aloud, not even Seo MinHyun, who once asked a guildmaster’s daughter out during a funeral. There were lines even he hadn’t crossed.

  But Mu Haejoon was older. And frankly, he looked like a man teetering on the edge of losing it.

  “Why,” Mu Haejoon asked, “haven’t you held the sword?”

  The question echoed in the room like a dropped coin in a well.

  The holy sword still hovered obediently in front of the boy. A blade of legend. A weapon said to have been forged with divine light, touched by the will of the world itself.

  Every inch of its form shimmered with patterns, the kind that whispered stories of ancient heroes and long-lost glories. Just looking at it made most people's hearts flutter.

  But not Lee Aseok.

  He was half-slumped on the sofa, one hand dangling off the edge, the other arm lazily draped across his stomach. His eyes were closed like he was trying to pretend this was all someone else’s problem.

  Until he opened them.

  Slowly. As if he’d just been woken from a nap he didn’t want to take in the first place.

  His dull gaze fell on Mu Haejoon, and for a moment, just a moment, there was a flicker there. Recognition. Familiarity.

  And behind that, something darker. Sharper.

  Mu Haejoon felt it in his chest. That faint pang of guilt.

  In his past life, Mu Haejoon had taught him to hold a sword. I praised him when he improved. Scolded him when he hesitated. Protected him. Trained him.

  And when he needed him the most, Left him.

  Now, all that remained in Lee Aseok’s eyes was a kind of exhausted detachment.

  Like everything had already happened, and he was simply walking through the aftershocks.

  Lee Aseok’s gaze dropped to the sword.

  Then he spoke.

  “Too flashy.”

  The three younger men blinked.

  “What?” Seo MinHyun asked, voice a little too high.

  “My eyes hurt,” Lee Aseok said plainly, and then, as if that explained everything, he closed his eyes again and leaned further back into the couch.

  Silence.

  Dead silence.

  You could practically hear the holy sword humming in place, confused and devastated, like a dog whose favorite human just refused to pet it.

  Mu Yichen looked genuinely stunned.

  Seo MinHyun was gaping. “Did he just say... it was too flashy?”

  Even Park Taegun seemed momentarily thrown. His brow twitched slightly, his version of an outright gasp.

  “Too flashy,” Seo MinHyun repeated under his breath. “It’s a literal divine artifact. People write poems about how beautiful it is.”

  “No one asked,” Park Taegun muttered.

  “I’m just saying, too flashy? What does that even mean?”

  Lee Aseok didn’t answer.

  The sword gave a low, pulsing hum.

  It was subtle, but everyone heard it.

  Seo MinHyun stared at the glowing blade. “Wait... is it sulking?”

  “It can’t sulk,” Mu Yichen said calmly.

  “It looks like it’s sulking.”

  “I don’t think artifacts have emotions,” Park Taegun offered, still watching the sword with a wary eye.

  “Oh, come on,” Seo MinHyun pointed. “Look at it. It dimmed a little. It’s like it just got rejected by its crush.”

  “It does look... duller,” Mu Haejoon muttered, rubbing his temple.

  The sword hung lower in the air now, like it had lost a bit of its float.

  “It’s pouting,” Seo MinHyun said, horrified and delighted. “The divine holy sword is pouting.”

  Lee Aseok cracked one eye open and glanced at it again. The sword immediately perked up, glowing faintly brighter like a child catching a parent’s attention.

  “Still flashy,” Lee Aseok muttered and closed his eyes again.

  The glow dimmed.

  Seo MinHyun let out a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a whimper. “Oh my god, it’s heartbroken.”

  “This is a disaster,” Mu Haejoon said, exasperated.

  “This is amazing,” Seo MinHyun countered.

  Park Taegun looked at Mu Yichen. “Say something.”

  Mu Yichen inhaled slowly. He leaned forward, the tone still gentle. “Aseok. I understand it may be overwhelming. But if you could consider touching it, just once..”

  “No.”

  The refusal was immediate. Sharp.

  Mu Yichen paused. “…May I ask why?”

  “I said it,” Aseok replied. “It’s too flashy.”

  “You mean that literally?”

  Lee Aseok ignored him, as usual.

  Mu Haejoon crouched in front of him, frowning. “Look, brat..do you know how many people would kill for a sword like this?”

  Lee Aseok didn’t respond.

  “Hell, Seo MinHyun tried to bribe a museum curator for a replica.”

  “It was one time,” Seo MinHyun snapped.

  Mu Haejoon turned back to Aseok. “Just grab it. Complete the bond. You can wear sunglasses if it’s that big of a problem.”

  “I hate sunglasses,” Lee Aseok said.

  “Then close your damn eyes while holding it!”

  “No.”

  Mu Haejoon stood up, exasperated. “Is there anything you do want?”

  Silence.

  Lee Aseok opened one eye and looked at him.

  Then, softly: “Sleep.”

  Park Taegun sighed. “He has a point.”

  Seo MinHyun threw his arms up. “Oh great. Now the stoic statue agrees with the haunted ghost. What’s next? The sword starts crying?!”

  The sword pulsed again..dimmer. Fainter.

  “Oh god,” Seo MinHyun whispered. “It is crying.”

  Mu Yichen looked tired now too.

  Mu Haejoon stepped away and rubbed both hands over his face.

  Lee Aseok, unbothered, shifted into a more comfortable position and tugged a throw pillow closer.

  The holy sword hovered above him like a jilted lover, glowing dimly.

  And in that room, full of legends, prodigies, and one divine weapon, no one had the faintest idea what to do next.

  Except Lee Aseok, who was already halfway asleep.

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