The sword floated, dim and sulking, in the golden afternoon light.

  It was a divine weapon, glorious, sacred, impossible. The kind of blade myths were built on, the kind that only ever responded to the chosen.

  And now it hovered quietly beside a long-haired youth who had called it too flashy and promptly gone back to sleep on a borrowed sofa.

  For the past ten minutes, not a single person in the room had spoken.

  Mu Haejoon, former Sword Master of the Azure Order, known across the continent for his sharp tongue and sharper blade, touched a hand to his chest like his heart physically ached.

  He didn’t sigh. Not out loud. But he sat down beside Mu Yichen like the gravity in the room had doubled.

  The silence held.

  And then, with the deep weariness of a man who had seen too much and was now seeing this, Mu Haejoon murmured:

  “Humanity had it hard. Too hard.”

  Mu Yichen, still calm as ever, nodded once.

  Seo MinHyun, for once not preening or talking about himself, let out a long breath and leaned back against the wall. “It’s not just hard. This is hell mode.”

  Park Taegun said nothing, but the faint clench in his jaw showed agreement.

  They all stared at the holy sword as it floated like a jilted lover over Lee Aseok’s head.

  Outside the room, the world was no longer silent.

  The video of the sword choosing the silent youth, glowing brilliantly and circling his head like a celestial halo had already gone viral.

  Across every hunter forum, news network, and social feed, the words “Holy Sword” and “Chosen Hero” were trending with the kind of ferocity usually reserved for celebrity breakups and monster gate disasters.

  And at the center of it all?

  A long-haired boy who had barely spoken in a year and claimed the world’s most sacred artifact hurt his eyes.

  Mu Yichen’s phone vibrated again.

  Then again. Then Seo MinHyun’s. Then Park Taegun’s.

  Their pockets were practically humming from the onslaught.

  Mu Yichen stared down at his phone’s screen, where over fifty missed calls, thirty urgent messages from government agencies, and a dozen news app notifications blinked in relentless order.

  He didn’t answer. He just sighed and looked at the boy on the couch.

  Lee Aseok hadn’t moved. One arm draped over his eyes, the other resting limply at his side. He might’ve been asleep, or pretending.

  Either way, he was aggressively ignoring the celestial drama unfolding around him.

  Mu Yichen didn’t speak. But his gaze lingered, unreadable.

  “It’s out of control,” Seo MinHyun muttered, swiping through his own notifications. “Every single guild is blowing up our phones. I even got a message from my ex. She said, and I quote, ‘tell me everything or I’ll slash your tires.’”

  “No one cares about your ex,” Park Taegun said without looking up.

  “I do!” Seo MinHyun pointed at himself. “Those tires are expensive.”

  Mu Haejoon exhaled through his nose and stood up. His back cracked audibly.

  He glanced at the three younger men. “They’ll come looking for him. The Guilds, the government, the Association, hell, even the Hunters’ Church.”

  Mu Yichen met his eyes. “I know.”

  “The video ended with you carrying him away.”

  “I know.”

  “They’ll assume he’s under your protection.”

  Mu Yichen didn’t respond to that one.

  Seo MinHyun finally tore his gaze from his phone. “So what? Do we go into hiding?”

  “You can’t hide divine light,” Park Taegun said calmly.

  Seo MinHyun rolled his eyes. “Oh great, you’re quoting scriptures now?”

  “It’s not a quote.”

  “It sounded like a quote.”

  Mu Haejoon raised a hand before they could launch into another fire-and-water bickering match.

  “Forget hiding,” he said. “You better prepare.”

  He started walking toward the couch, where the chosen hero of legend was still curled up like a disgruntled cat.

  Lee Aseok hadn’t moved from where he lay, curled on the sofa with one arm over his eyes like he was pretending the world didn’t exist.

  The holy sword still floated nearby, faintly glowing like a moth that had lost its flame.

  Mu Haejoon sat down beside him.

  He didn’t speak right away.

  He simply rested a hand on Lee Aseok’s thin shoulder and patted it lightly, awkwardly, like someone touching a relic they feared would break.

  Lee Aseok moved at last.

  He tilted his head, lowering his arm just enough to look at Haejoon.

  That expression, blank, quiet, barely alive, sent a sharp pang through the older man’s chest.

  “I don’t know,” Haejoon began softly, “what happened to you to make you like this.”

  His voice wasn’t stern now. It was quiet. Earnest. The kind of voice that came from someone who remembered brighter days.

  “But…” Haejoon continued, “I want you to know… it’s okay not to be okay.”

  Lee Aseok blinked.

  “If someone bullied you,” Haejoon said, a faint edge creeping into his voice, “tell me. I’ll teach them a lesson.”

  There was no humor in the statement.

  No patronizing tone.

  Just raw, simple sincerity.

  Lee Aseok stared at him.

  For a moment, his pupils seemed to dilate, his gaze darkening, growing deeper, distant. Like he wasn’t looking at Mu Haejoon anymore. Like he was seeing something else.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Someone else.

  The past rose like a tidal wave.

  Another time. Another life.

  Mu Haejoon, sword in hand, yelling at him to focus, to hold the blade properly, to stop crying like a child.

  Mu Haejoon, who once stood tall before a cheering crowd, who left him behind when things got difficult.

  Mu Haejoon, the man he had once looked at like a father. The man who, in the end, didn’t come for him.

  Lee Aseok tore his eyes away.

  He forced the memory back into the void it came from.

  He wasn’t going to remember. He wouldn’t allow it.

  These people weren’t the ones who lived through that life.

  They didn’t bear the burden of betrayal.

  Only he did.

  To them, he was just a strange boy the sword had chosen, a mystery wrapped in silence and long hair. Maybe they pitied him. Maybe they saw him as someone broken.

  But they didn’t know. They would never know.

  Mu Haejoon felt it then.

  A change in the air. Subtle, but piercing.

  The look in Lee Aseok’s eyes, before he turned away, had cut deeper than any blade.

  Not in a violent way. But in a way that made his chest hollow out, like he’d just lost something precious and didn’t know why.

  “…Aseok.”

  Mu Haejoon said his name. Quietly.

  There was so much more he wanted to say. So many things he didn’t understand but desperately wanted to.

  But before he could speak again, his phone buzzed violently in his pocket. The sound pulled him back to reality like a slap.

  Another emergency.

  Another voice on the other end of the line demanding answers.

  He looked down at the screen. Then sighed.

  “I’ll be back,” he said, rising to his feet.

  He waved his hand vaguely in the air like he was brushing away a swarm of flies.

  “Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”

  Seo MinHyun perked up. “No promises!”

  “Especially you.”

  “Unfair,” Seo MinHyun muttered. “Just because I have charisma doesn’t mean I’m reckless.”

  “You once tried to ride a wyvern bareback for a livestream.”

  “That was educational content!”

  Mu Haejoon stood by the door for a moment longer than necessary.

  He hadn’t meant to feel it. That flicker. That twist.

  But when Lee Aseok had looked at him, really looked at him, there was something in that gaze he couldn’t define.

  Not fear. Not resentment. Something deeper. A quiet grief wrapped in silence, like a mourning that never had the chance to cry out loud.

  It felt… like loss.

  The kind that comes not from death, but betrayal.

  Haejoon touched his chest absently as he stepped out, his phone still pressed to his ear, his attention torn between the person on the line and the boy on the couch he left behind.

  “I’ll come back,” he had wanted to say.

  But instead, all he could manage was a vague wave.

  And then he was gone.

  The next two days unfolded in chaos.

  News of the holy sword’s awakening spread across the internet like a brushfire.

  By the time Mu Yichen managed to reach his office, more than seventeen major guilds, three branches of the national government, and an alarming number of religious organizations had contacted him.

  Park Taegun handled most of the official damage control. He was, as always, ruthlessly efficient, communicating only what was necessary and stonewalling everything else.

  Seo MinHyun did several live streams pretending he had no idea what people were talking about, mostly as a joke but then also made sure to leak the “exclusive image” of the sword hovering over Lee Aseok to boost his viewer count.

  “You’re exploiting the kid,” Taegun had muttered.

  “I’m documenting history,” Seo MinHyun had replied, dramatically flipping his hair. “Besides, the sword looks fabulous on camera.”

  In the middle of it all, there was Lee Aseok.

  Their problem child.

  Their walking miracle.

  Their… roommate, somehow.

  Because even as the world spun in panic and urgency, Lee Aseok remained an unbothered island in the storm.

  He ate.

  He slept.

  He watched anime on Mu Yichen’s 75-inch OLED screen, cross-legged on the couch like he owned the place.

  And the holy sword followed him like a loyal pet.

  It floated beside him while he snacked on cereal.

  It drifted lazily above his head while he napped.

  It even gleamed brightly when he chuckled, quietly, once, at an especially ridiculous anime plot twist.

  At first, it made everyone nervous.

  Park Taegun had nearly drawn his weapon the first time he caught the sword drifting down the hallway.

  Seo MinHyun made the sign of the cross even though he wasn’t religious.

  But eventually… they got used to it.

  Just like they got used to the way Lee Aseok would wordlessly appear in the kitchen at 2 a.m. for ramen, or how he would silently fall asleep on the rooftop for hours without explanation.

  Still, none of them dared to leave him completely alone.

  So they rotated.

  One person stayed in the apartment at all times.

  Sometimes it was Park Taegun, who mostly ignored him and read military reports on his tablet.

  Sometimes it was Seo MinHyun, who would dramatically narrate his own life like a reality show host and occasionally try to coax a reaction out of Lee Aseok.

  “Look at this face!” MinHyun once announced, pointing at himself in the mirror. “Why do you never talk to me? Am I not beautiful enough? Is this emotional abuse?”

  Lee Aseok, chewing dry cereal, blinked once and replied, “Your voice is loud.”

  Seo MinHyun, momentarily offended, gasped. “He speaks! But also..rude!”

  The only one who got no reaction at all was Mu Yichen.

  No matter what he said, calm, respectful, even occasionally humorous.

  Lee Aseok never answered. Never even glanced his way.

  It became a strange habit, watching him.

  Like waiting for a storm to pass. Or maybe for a seed to sprout.

  On the evening of the second day, the sun was just beginning to set, casting golden light across the apartment.

  Mu Yichen stood by the kitchen island, scrolling through a dozen unread messages. Most of them were from government representatives now pushing for a formal meeting at the Association HQ.

  He set the phone down with a tired sigh.

  Across the room, Lee Aseok was curled on the couch, again. Hair messy, one sock missing, remote control resting on his stomach like a makeshift shield.

  The holy sword was, as usual, levitating at shoulder height. Occasionally, it spun like it was bored.

  Mu Yichen glanced over at him.

  “Tomorrow,” he said quietly, “we’ll go to HQ.”

  Lee Aseok didn’t react.

  Seo MinHyun peeked around the corner. “He’s gonna ignore you again,” he whispered in a not-whisper.

  Taegun, behind him, rolled his eyes. “Why are you hiding? You live here too.”

  “I like dramatic entrances.”

  But then..

  Lee Aseok shifted.

  His eyes, sleepy but focused, landed on Mu Yichen.

  And then,

  He nodded.

  Just once.

  And stood.

  And walked into his room.

  Silence dropped like a weight.

  Mu Yichen stood frozen, his expression caught halfway between stunned and amused.

  “…Did he…?” Seo MinHyun whispered, eyes wide.

  “He responded,” Mu Yichen said slowly.

  The corner of his lips twitched upward.

  “I didn’t imagine that, right?” MinHyun asked. “Like, he nodded. With his head.”

  “Yes,” Taegun said. “That is what nodding is.”

  Mu Yichen chuckled softly.

  Something about the moment was absurdly simple, but quietly profound.

  It wasn’t a conversation. It wasn’t a breakthrough.

  But it was a beginning.

  For someone who had kept the entire world at arm’s length, a nod meant more than a thousand words.

  Seo MinHyun leaned back dramatically against the wall. “Wow. We’re making progress. Should I bake a cake?”

  “I’d rather you didn’t,” Park Taegun said dryly. “Your cooking is a health hazard.”

  “Rude.”

  Mu Yichen just kept smiling to himself as he looked at the closed door of Lee Aseok’s room.

  Tomorrow there will be chaos again.

  But tonight… Tonight they had a small miracle.

  The sword chosen had nodded.

  And for now, that was enough.

  Inside the dim room, Lee Aseok sat on the edge of his bed. The walls were quiet, lit only by the soft glow of the floating holy sword circling above him.

  Its light was warm, gentle, like a loyal dog wagging its tail, eager to please.

  But Lee Aseok didn’t look at it with fondness.

  He stared at the sword the way one might look at a ticking bomb.

  Annoyed. Impatient. Unmoved.

  His fingers curled slightly around the bedsheet. Not out of fear, but restraint.

  This thing. This damned sword. It hadn’t left him alone since the moment it appeared..

  Like a parasite with loyalty issues. It hovered, followed, glowed brightly at his every breath, announcing to the world that he was the chosen one.

  As if he ever asked for it.

  Lee Aseok sighed softly.

  So much for staying under the radar.

  He tilted his head, watching the blade rotate slowly in the air like it was waiting for praise.

  In his past life, he had longed for this moment. Recognition. Validation.

  The idea that if he just tried hard enough, if he was useful enough, human enough, people would accept him. They would see him.

  He had bled himself dry for it.

  And in the end, they had all turned away.

  Now?

  He had no intention of playing that role again.

  A small chuckle slipped past his lips, quiet, dry, almost bitter.

  “…Funny,” he muttered. “Back then, I did everything to make them like me.”

  The holy sword gave a gentle pulse of light, as if wagging its tail.

  Lee Aseok’s smile vanished.

  This time, he would do the opposite.

  If the world insisted on calling him a hero, he’d make sure they regretted it.

  If the people wanted him to stand on the pedestal, he’d drag that pedestal down into the mud.

  If they thought the holy sword had chosen someone righteous, noble, a symbol of hope, then he’d make them hate him for it.

  Slowly, deliberately, Lee Aseok turned his eyes toward the sword. It drifted closer, almost affectionately.

  And for the first time since returning to the past..

  He spoke to it.

  His voice was quiet. Hoarse, from disuse. But firm.

  “I’m not your hero.”

  The sword paused mid-air.

  Lee Aseok continued, each word deliberate, like carving stone.

  “I won’t wield you.”

  A faint shimmer pulsed from the blade.

  “I’m not the chosen one,” he said. “I don’t care what you want.”

  The holy sword dimmed slightly, as if confused.

  “Follow me if you want,” Lee Aseok murmured. “But don’t expect anything.”

  His tone sharpened, not loud, but cutting in its clarity.

  “I won’t save the world.”

  “I won’t save anyone.”

  Silence settled in the room, heavy and absolute.

  The sword hovered there, unmoving. For the first time, it didn’t glow. It didn’t pulse. It's simply… stilled.

  Lee Aseok looked away, lying back on the bed.

  He stared at the ceiling for a long moment, then turned to his side.

  Outside, the world was preparing to bow to their next holy hero.

  But inside this quiet room, Lee Aseok had already made his decision.