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.

  He wouldn’t become who they wanted.

  He wouldn’t become who the sword wanted.

  And if they kept pushing?

  He’d become the kind of person they couldn’t bear to look at.

  He closed his eyes.

  The sword hovered silently above him, like a star slowly flickering out.

  Lee Aseok’s fingers curled faintly on the blanket at his side. The memory was vivid.

  That moment in the final battle, Hell Gate cracking wide behind him, mana burning his veins, and the sword, his sword, flying across the battlefield to land gracefully in Mu Yichen’s hands.

  He had stood there, breathless and disarmed.

  And all that had been left in his hand… was a broken, rusty iron rod he had picked up from the ground.

  That had been the weapon he used to kill the final boss.

  Not the Sword he always loved.

  Not the so-called holy relic.

  Just a piece of trash metal.

  He didn’t even keep it afterward. It had turned to ash in his hand. Along with his body.

  Lee Aseok exhaled quietly through his nose. The light from the sword shimmered against the wall, bright and noble.

  He preferred the rust iron rod.

  Turning his body slightly, Lee Aseok adjusted his blanket and lay back down, pulling the covers up to his shoulder with a lazy motion.

  Sleep tugged at him again.

  Tomorrow, the vultures will circle. Guilds. Hunters. Association officials. Big titles with bigger egos.

  All eager to claim the sword’s wielder as their prize. They would ask questions. Try to recruit him. Probe, push, pry..

  He would deal with it.

  He would annoy them.

  That was the plan, anyway.

  The holy sword remained silent, unmoving.

  In the dark room, the only sound was Lee Aseok’s soft breathing as he drifted into slumber.

  The room was dark, quiet.

  Only the soft sound of breathing broke the stillness. Lee Aseok lay curled under the blanket, one hand resting freely on the bed, pale fingers lax in sleep.

  The holy sword floated inches above the floor, its once radiant light now dimmed to a faint glimmer.

  There was no more theatrical shine, no humming glow that demanded reverence. It moved with the hesitant weight of something not entirely alive, but not quite dead either.

  It approached carefully, as if afraid to wake him.

  Just as the blade reached the edge of the bed, its tip hesitantly drifted toward Lee Aseok’s open hand…

  The fingers moved.

  In a subtle, almost unconscious flinch, Lee Aseok pulled his hand away and tucked it under the blanket, his face still slack with sleep.

  If the holy sword had a face, it would’ve been frozen in shock.

  There was a brief pause, the kind of stunned silence even weapons could somehow manifest.

  Then, as if sulking, the sword slowly backed off. Its glow dimmed entirely until it looked more like an expensive piece of decorative steel than the world’s most coveted relic.

  It floated to the corner of the room, settled there quietly, and didn't move again.

  That should’ve been the end of the night.

  But sleep didn’t come easy for Lee Aseok.

  Soon, his brow twitched. His body shifted under the blanket. Then again.

  Again.

  Small movements. Tossing. Turning.

  A grimace crept onto his face, barely perceptible in the shadows. His breath hitched, just once, before evening out again.

  He dreamed.

  Of ash. Screaming. Of the weight of a rusted rod in his hands.

  Of burning mana and cracked skin and the holy sword gleaming in someone else’s grip while he stood forgotten in the blood-soaked mud.

  It was the kind of dream that didn’t let go easily.

  The sword in the corner didn’t glow. It didn’t move.

  It simply stayed there.

  Motionless, as if trying not to disturb the boy who once clung to it so desperately.

  The nightmare lingered until almost dawn. Only then did Lee Aseok still breathe the evening out into a deeper rhythm. His body relaxed. He slept, finally, without twitching.

  And the sword remained right where it was.

  In the next morning….

  Mu Yichen stood in front of Lee Aseok’s door, dressed in a sleek black formal suit. A silver pin on his chest gleamed under the hallway light, signifying his rank and station. His posture was composed, expression polite as always, but his eyes were conflicted.

  He checked the time again. 8:15 a.m.

  They had to leave by 8:30 to make it to the meeting at HQ.

  He raised his hand, hesitated.

  Then lowered it again.

  The hallway was quiet save for the sound of soft footsteps echoing behind him.

  Taegun wore a fitted black suit, his military roots obvious in the sharp creases of his sleeves and the polished sheen of his shoes.

  His expression was as calm and impassive as always, as though being early and overdressed for a bureaucratic meeting was just another mission.

  Beside him, Seo MinHyun adjusted the cuffs of his white suit jacket, flashy with gold accents that screamed “look at me.” A ridiculous diamond brooch sparkled at his chest, shaped like a phoenix.

  “Yichen,” MinHyun drawled, sipping an energy drink instead of coffee today. “Let me guess. The lazy sloth hasn't awakened yet?”

  He stopped beside Mu Yichen and narrowed his eyes at the closed door.

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  “...He’s still in there?” he asked, blowing on his coffee.

  Mu Yichen gave a small nod, arms crossed, gaze unreadable.

  “Did you knock?” MinHyun added, glancing sideways.

  “I was about to,” Mu Yichen said mildly.

  “And?” MinHyun took a long sip, then raised a brow. “You’re afraid of the crazy guy too, huh.”

  Mu Yichen gave him a look. “No.”

  “Sure. That’s why your hand froze midair like a rookie actor on a first stage debut.”

  Behind them, Park Taegun’s calm voice cut in. “You’re one to talk. You flinched yesterday when he passed you in the hallway.”

  “I thought he was going to say something!” MinHyun said defensively. “That’s psychological warfare, I was mentally preparing for battle..”

  “You tripped over your own feet.”

  “It was a strategic retreat.”

  Mu Yichen sighed lightly. “We don’t have time for this.”

  MinHyun leaned his shoulder against the wall and let out a dramatic sigh. “I mean, sure, we were all too busy preparing yesterday. Government briefings, security drills, press filtering, guild alignments, normal stuff for an upcoming summit that’ll decide the fate of national-class weapons and global threat rankings.”

  He paused, then pointed at the door.

  “But our new roommate? Moved exactly three times in forty-eight hours. Once to the bathroom, once to the shower, and once to change the channel on the anime he was bingeing.”

  Even Taegun, normally expressionless, let out a short breath that might’ve been a suppressed scoff.

  “He watched an entire show,” MinHyun continued, “thirty-four episodes, back to back. Fell asleep with the remote in his hand. How does a man that skinny survive on orange juice and air? And when did the holy sword start babysitting couch potatoes?”

  Taegun checked his watch.

  8:26.

  “Four minutes,” he said simply.

  “I say we roll dice and offer the loser as tribute,” MinHyun declared. “We throw them into his room and hope he doesn’t vaporize them in his sleep.”

  Mu Yichen, still unreadable, looked at the closed door again.

  “It’s not that he’s just lazy,” MinHyun went on, voice light but eyes sharp. “It’s the disrespect. The leaders will expect someone dramatic, elegant, maybe glowing. You know, floating sword prodigy kind of thing. Instead, they’re going to get… that.”

  He pointed at the door like it had personally offended him.

  Taegun nodded slowly. “They already investigated his background. Expecting results.”

  Mu Yichen added, “But nothing in the reports will prepare them for him.”

  MinHyun grinned. “Because those reports are just data. They don’t include the fact that he called the world’s most sacred relic ‘shiny trash’ yesterday while microwaving instant noodles.”

  Yichen stayed silent.

  Taegun folded his arms. “He’s unpredictable.”

  “That’s one word for it,” MinHyun said cheerfully. “I’d go with: mysterious, rude, dramatic, apathetic, sleep-deprived, possibly immortal, anime-obsessed..”

  “MinHyun.”

  “..and a little bit cute when he sleeps with one sock on and one sock off. What?”

  Both Taegun and Mu Yichen turned to him at once.

  “I checked on him yesterday when he didn’t come down for lunch!” MinHyun defended himself. “I thought he was dead! He wasn’t. He was watching cats fall off tables on his tablet. “

  “Enough,” Yichen finally said, sighing.

  “Alright,” Seo MinHyun grinned, clapping his hands together once as if announcing the start of a dramatic stage play. “This is going to be an interesting show. Can’t wait to see how the old geezers react. Now, the real question is..” he spun on his heel with an exaggerated flourish, “..who’s going to wake up the Sleeping Sloth?”

  His grin widened, full of devilish anticipation.

  Instantly, both Mu Yichen and Park Taegun turned their heads toward him.

  Taegun’s stare was stone-cold and unblinking.

  Yichen’s gaze was gentler, but just as firm.

  MinHyun blinked, visibly confused. “Wait. Why are you..”

  Taegun raised a brow.

  Yichen tilted his head ever so slightly.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” MinHyun took a step back and pointed to himself. “Me? Absolutely not. I like living. I’m very attached to my face, thank you.”

  He shook his head, the motion dramatic and quick, like his life depended on it. “No way. You guys saw what happened yesterday when I told him to go outside and touch grass. He stared at me like I was a fly on a dung pile.”

  “You’re a coward,” Taegun said calmly.

  MinHyun froze.

  The insult registered.

  Slowly.

  Painfully.

  “You take that back.”

  “You’re a coward,” Taegun repeated, just as expressionless.

  MinHyun’s jaw clenched. “You know,” he said through gritted teeth, “normally, I’d say it’s not worth it. Normally, I’m the bigger man. But fine.”

  He turned around in one sharp step and marched toward Lee Aseok’s door.

  Behind him, Mu Yichen silently lifted a hand and gave Park Taegun a small thumbs-up.

  Taegun returned it with a quiet nod.

  Neither of them said a word.

  MinHyun, of course, missed the entire exchange.

  He stood before the door, muttering under his breath. “Coward, huh? Let’s see you call me that again after I survive the wrath of Sleepy Sword Boy. Not like I need validation or anything. But also, how dare he.”

  He knocked. Once.

  No response.

  He knocked again, louder.

  Nothing.

  MinHyun pressed his ear against the wood.

  From the other side: silence.

  No rustling. No muttering. No faint breathing.

  “Unbelievable,” he muttered, stepping back. “How can someone look that pale and still sleep like a corpse?”

  He tried the handle. It turned.

  “…It’s unlocked?”

  He looked back at the other two.

  Yichen shrugged lightly.

  Taegun tilted his head toward the door. “You started it.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  MinHyun pushed the door open.

  The room was dim. The curtains hadn’t been opened. A faint trail of morning light filtered in through the edges.

  Lee Aseok lay in bed, wrapped in a blanket that had somehow twisted around his legs like vines. His face was blank, mouth slightly open, one arm thrown over his forehead.

  And right beside the bed, hovering like a shadow in the soft light, was the holy sword.

  It glowed faintly.

  MinHyun took a step forward.

  The sword turned.

  And pointed directly at his face.

  He froze.

  A single finger rose to his lips. “Shhh.”

  That wasn’t spoken aloud.

  But MinHyun understood it.

  Instantly, he closed his mouth.

  He hadn’t even said anything yet.

  Behind him, Mu Yichen and Taegun stepped into the room, just in time to see MinHyun standing like a statue in front of the floating relic.

  The holy sword didn’t lower.

  Instead, it turned slightly toward them.

  Then, in one smooth, fluid motion, it floated to the door.

  And opened it. Wide.

  The unspoken meaning was obvious.

  Leave.

  The three men stared at the holy sword.

  The holy sword stared back.

  If it had eyes, they would’ve been narrowed in disapproval. If it had a mouth, it would’ve said, Do not disturb the child.

  Without a word, the three of them stepped back.

  Slowly.

  One by one.

  As soon as they were out, the sword floated backward.

  The door closed gently with a soft click.

  Silence returned.

  The hallway felt suddenly colder.

  For a long moment, no one moved.

  The three men stood in the hallway in stunned silence, staring at the closed door like it had just insulted their entire bloodline.

  Inside, nothing stirred.

  Outside, three of the country’s most formidable awakens stood defeated.

  “…Did we seriously just get kicked out by a sword?” Seo MinHyun finally muttered, the words dry and hollow. “A sword?”

  No one answered.

  “I wasn’t even that loud,” he added, as if trying to reason with the universe. “I mean, I didn’t even get the chance to yell. I was thinking of yelling. Is this sword psychic or something?”

  Mu Yichen let out a quiet chuckle, the kind that came when disbelief had long since given up and left him only with quiet resignation. “I’ve laughed more in the last three days than I have in the past three years.”

  Park Taegun didn’t speak. He simply looked at the clock mounted on the hallway wall, then turned on his heel and walked to the living room. With the calm of a man facing a battlefield, he sat on the sofa and crossed his arms.

  Mu Yichen followed him silently and sat beside him. His formal coat was still perfectly unwrinkled, but he didn’t look like someone expecting punctuality anymore.

  Seo MinHyun stood rooted in the hallway for another long second, then remembered the glowing sword and shivered slightly. Muttering something about “dignity” and “revenge,” he trudged over and slumped onto the other end of the couch.

  They sat there. Waiting.

  Minutes passed. Then an hour. Then more.

  Calls began pouring in. Texts. Pings. Notifications.

  Guild leaders. Government officials. Reporters. Assistants. Secretaries. Angry, confused, frustrated.

  The meeting was supposed to start at 8:30 AM.

  Now, it was approaching 1 PM.

  Each of their phones vibrated and rang in an endless rotation of disaster.

  Seo MinHyun’s perfectly styled hair began to unravel, one strand at a time. By 12:30, it looked like he had fought a small wind demon and lost.

  His expression slowly changed from overconfident amusement to disbelief, to barely veiled despair. At one point, he barked into his phone, “Yes, he’s still asleep! No, I’m not making that up! Do you want to knock on his door and get sliced by an antique with a superiority complex?!”

  Mu Yichen, still calm, placed his phone face down and rubbed his temple with quiet elegance. He wasn’t frustrated per se. Just…exhausted by the absurdity of it all.

  Park Taegun remained still as a statue, but the faint furrow between his brows deepened each time a call came in. The call logs on his phone were a battlefield of red missed calls and blue ‘urgent’ tags.

  MinHyun tossed his phone onto the coffee table like it had personally betrayed him. “I know we joke about the world going crazy, but this is next level.”

  No one contradicted him.

  He sat back, arms stretched over the couch, staring up at the ceiling like it might drop an answer from the heavens. “This is karma, isn’t it? For all the times I skipped morning drills.”

  Yichen sighed, his eyes drifting back to the hallway.

  The door to Lee Aseok’s room remained closed. Peaceful. Untouched. As if time inside operated on a completely different set of rules.

  The holy sword hadn’t moved either. Or at least, they assumed it hadn’t. None of them dared check again.

  “Do you think…” Yichen began, tone light, “that he’s awake and just… still lying there?”

  MinHyun’s eyes twitched. “Don’t joke about that.”

  “I’m not joking.”

  “If that’s true,” MinHyun said darkly, “I will file a formal complaint. I don’t know where, but I will file it.”

  Taegun’s brow twitched. “He’s not doing it out of malice. He just doesn’t care.”

  “Which is worse,” MinHyun snapped, raking his fingers through his now-wild hair. “At least malice implies motivation. He’s just… existing. Sleeping like a king while the rest of us drown in political fires.”

  Yichen leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, fingers interlocked. “I don’t think he sees any of this as important.”

  MinHyun’s mouth opened in protest. Then closed. Then it opened again.

  “…Which is insane,” he muttered at last. “We’re talking about the meeting. The Alliance. The world’s strongest guilds and governments all in one place. They’re probably throwing chairs by now.”

  “Probably,” Yichen said with a faint smile. “And we’re sitting here, because of a boy and his sword.”

  “Don’t call it his sword. The sword has agency. The sword has standards. The sword has..”

  “Better discipline than you,” Taegun said.

  MinHyun gawked at him. “I am too emotionally drained to even respond to that.”

  Taegun raised an eyebrow. “Then don’t.”

  “Why do you always have to….”

  Click.

  The sound of the door unlocking was soft, but it might as well have been thunder.

  Three heads whipped toward the hallway.