Lee Aseok’s eyes swept the room slowly, gaze flat and dangerous. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, and asked in a voice that cut through the air like a blade:

  “So what?”

  The room stilled.

  His tone was as frigid as his expression. Emotionless. Mechanical. But laced with something darker.

  Everyone stared.

  Lee Aseok tilted his head slightly, his next words slow and deliberate.

  “What does humanity’s destruction… have to do with me?”

  No one answered.

  They couldn’t.

  The silence returned, but this time, it was heavy. Suffocating.

  Lee Aseok’s gaze moved to the military officer who had shouted earlier.

  “You talk about duty. Sacrifice. The end of the world,” he said. “But you talk like I’m part of it.”

  He smiled then. Or something like it.

  It was a cold, bitter curve of his lips, twisted just slightly upward. It didn’t reach his eyes.

  “I’m not.”

  Mu Yichen’s breath caught.

  Lee Aseok’s voice lowered, no louder than a whisper. But it filled the entire room.

  “I absolutely despise humans,” he said quietly, yet every ear in the room caught the words with perfect clarity. “And I’m happy to see them get destroyed.”

  The silence broke like glass.

  The meeting hall, filled with guild leaders, military officers, and government officials, all hardened, serious people used to facing the worst of humanity, froze as if they had been slapped across the face.

  Kang Juwon, who had been watching the scene unfold with mild interest, now stared at Lee Aseok in open shock. His scholarly demeanor cracked, revealing a flicker of something rare, true surprise.

  He had expected the new chosen one to be like the last, a noble, kind-hearted person willing to sacrifice anything for humanity’s survival.

  Not this.

  This boy sitting before them was nothing like that.

  Kang Juwon’s mind raced. The previous hero had been the symbol of hope and sacrifice; this one was cold, distant, and, worst of all, hostile toward the very people he was meant to save.

  Even Kang Juwon, who had dealt with countless manipulations and power plays, felt a chill. There was no joke here, no sarcastic bravado masking a fragile soul. Lee Aseok meant every word.

  Others shared the feeling, though none dared speak it aloud.

  What kind of crazy person has the holy sword chosen this time?

  The room’s tension thickened as eyes darted around, seeking answers.

  Finally, breaking the silence was a famous guild leader known for his tank skills, Guildmaster Han.

  His voice was grim, steady, like a drill sergeant’s. “Since the holy sword has chosen you, you must wield it. You must enter the Hell Gate. If you fail, the world will be destroyed along with you. This is the role you must accept.”

  His words echoed like a verdict.

  Lee Aseok’s smirk deepened into a chuckle, a dry, almost mocking sound that cut through the room’s heaviness.

  A soft, humorless sound, barely louder than a sigh, but it cut through the room with eerie clarity. He looked at the crowd of horrified, speechless people and said with complete indifference, “Then maybe you can just kill me.”

  He raised a hand and lazily gestured toward the holy sword, still floating silently behind him like a loyal ghost. “After my death, it’ll definitely pick someone better. After all, the bond is not complete.”

  The words hadn’t even fully settled before he moved.

  Before anyone could react, Lee Aseok reached out toward the polished handgun placed at the center of the table, a standard-issue military weapon brought in by one of the officers during security checks.

  No one had thought he’d touch it. No one imagined he’d actually use it.

  And yet, he picked it up casually, the same way someone might reach for a pen, and without hesitation..

  He placed the barrel directly against his temple.

  Click.

  The cold metal pressed into his skin.

  He didn’t blink.

  Didn’t flinch.

  Didn’t hesitate.

  Then…

  Bang.

  Or so it would’ve been.

  Two figures moved before the sound could register.

  One was Mu Yichen, blade in hand, the Moonlight Sun Sword flashing silver as he crossed the room in less than a heartbeat.

  The other was the holy sword itself, reacting on its own, slicing through the air with a sharp hiss like it had a will of its own.

  The gun in Lee Aseok’s hand split in two, falling to the ground in two neatly severed halves, still warm.

  Silence.

  The entire meeting room stood in frozen disbelief.

  No one had even managed to breathe before the action was over. Now they could only stare.

  Seo MinHyun groaned loudly and slammed his head onto the table.

  “Great,” he muttered, face pressed against the polished wood. “Wonderful. Amazing. I’m in a room with a suicidal lunatic. Can I go fight a gate now? Please? At least the monsters don’t shoot themselves mid-meeting.”

  Park Taegun rolled his eyes. “Shut up, MinHyun.”

  “You shut up! Why are you so calm? He literally just..!”

  Meanwhile, the rest of the room was still catching up.

  One guild leader took a shaky step back. Another had sat down without realizing, jaw slack.

  Kang Juwon, however, was still watching Lee Aseok with unnerving sharpness, his fingers thoughtfully tapping the armrest of his chair.

  Mu Yichen’s expression had shifted, subtly but unmistakably.

  The usual mask of gentleness and calm he wore had cracked, just a bit.

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

  He looked at Lee Aseok with barely contained anger, not loud, not theatrical, but quiet and burning like a sealed furnace.

  “What were you thinking?” he asked, voice low.

  Lee Aseok blinked slowly at him. “I was thinking about dying.”

  Mu Yichen’s hand tightened around the hilt of his sword.

  Lee Aseok stared right back, unreadable. “You don’t have to worry. I wasn’t being dramatic. I was being practical. You all want a hero, right? If I’m dead, the sword will choose again.”

  He sounded as if he were explaining the weather. Calm. Detached.

  He leaned back, placed his hands on the table, and added, “Problem solved.”

  “No, it’s not,” Kang Juwon said suddenly.

  All eyes turned to him. The guild master of the Mind's Eye guild smiled faintly, though his gaze remained sharp.

  “You think this is about the sword?” Kang said. “The issue is you. The sword chose you, and we don’t know why. But now we have to deal with you. Whether you’re suicidal, apathetic, or just exceptionally bad at public speaking.”

  Seo MinHyun gave a weak laugh. “Exceptionally bad at existing, more like.”

  Taegun kicked his chair leg.

  “Ow! Okay, okay, I’ll shut up, seriously, who gave Taegun legs like steel pylons?!”

  Meanwhile, Lee Aseok ignored them all and returned to his relaxed posture, as if none of the chaos had touched him.

  The two halves of the gun still lay on the floor, evidence of what had just happened, but he didn’t spare them a second glance.

  “Like I said,” Lee Aseok muttered, “if you want me dead, you can do it anytime. Just make sure someone else is ready to pick up the sword.”

  Another heavy silence followed his words.

  The weight of what he was offering, or rather, disregarding, hung over everyone.

  In a world plagued by gates and monsters, where every life was precious, where heroes were begged and worshipped and sometimes even forced into the spotlight… Lee Aseok sat there, half-bored, fully unbothered, and ready to die if it solved their problem.

  Kang Juwon tilted his head slightly, voice curious. “You really don’t value your life, do you?”

  Lee Aseok turned his gaze to him.

  “No.”

  One word.

  No hesitation.

  Kang stared, then slowly leaned back in his chair, exhaling. ‘Hah… This is going to be fun.’

  Mu Yichen still hadn’t moved.

  He stood next to Lee Aseok, staring down at him. His grip on his sword had loosened, but his expression hadn’t softened. His usually calm, unreadable eyes now burned with something darker.

  Seo MinHyun peeked out from behind his own hair. “So, um, are we just gonna skip past the part where he almost shot himself?”

  Park Taegun exhaled through his nose. “He didn’t.”

  “Yeah, but he tried! That’s not better!”

  “I stopped him,” Mu Yichen said quietly.

  Everyone turned to him.

  Mu Yichen finally moved, sheathing his sword with a graceful flick of his wrist. Then he turned back to Lee Aseok.

  His voice was soft. Dangerous. “Don’t do that again.”

  Lee Aseok blinked once and ignored him.

  Kang Juwon stared at the boy in white.

  No, man. Not a boy. Not with those eyes.

  Again and again, Lee Aseok defied expectation. Not with strength. Not with declarations of courage or heroism. But by doing the one thing no other “chosen one” had ever done.

  He looked at life like it was optional.

  Kang had seen hundreds of faces twisted in fear, despair, anger, madness. But this… This was emptiness.

  No flicker of survival instinct. No panic. No doubt. Just a flat line.

  In a world plagued with monsters and gates, people valued their lives like rare treasures. But Lee Aseok?

  He held it like it was disposable.

  Kang tilted his head and exhaled. “Unbelievable…”

  At the far end of the table, Mu Haejoon finally stood up, his face dark with frustration. His usual calm was cracked at the edges.

  “Lee Aseok,” he said, voice stern. “This isn’t a game.”

  Lee Aseok didn’t react.

  “You think dying solves everything? That throwing your life away is noble?” Haejoon continued, the anger in his tone now thinly veiled. “Then let me say it bluntly, grow up. Take your life seriously.”

  Lee Aseok finally moved.

  He looked at Haejoon with hollow eyes, then tilted his head slightly, like a confused animal observing a loud noise. “Why?”

  One word. Flat. Empty.

  “Because it’s your life!” Haejoon snapped.

  Lee Aseok blinked slowly, then stood up.

  He moved like a shadow.

  Graceful. Silent. Detached.

  His white uniform clung to his frame like ceremonial robes. The holy sword hovered behind him, but instead of making him look righteous, it made him look cursed.

  There was no light in his gaze.

  Only void.

  “I won’t be your hero,” he said simply.

  The room went still again.

  “I won’t carry that sword. And I won’t play the part.”

  “Aseok..” Mu Yichen’s voice cut in, calm but heavy.

  Lee Aseok ignored him.

  He smiled suddenly.

  A crooked thing. Not quite happy. Not quite sane.

  “I wonder,” he mused aloud, voice still soft, “if I helped the monsters, how long it would take before humanity disappeared.”

  The words hung like poison in the air.

  Everyone stared.

  Did he just say..???!

  Seo MinHyun jolted up from his chair. “Wait, what?! Are you hearing yourself? What are you, a drama villain?!”

  Lee Aseok smiled wider, amused at his own thoughts. “It’d be poetic. Everyone’s already so desperate to find someone else to carry the sword. If I hand it to the monsters instead, maybe it saves everyone the trouble.”

  “You’re insane,” Seo muttered, hand to his forehead. “You’re genuinely insane. The sword chose a lunatic. Great. Wonderful. Who cursed us?”

  “Enough,” Park Taegun cut in, tone sharp. “Stop saying things you don’t mean.”

  “But I do mean them,” Lee Aseok said, turning toward him. “I really do. I despise humans. Always have.”

  His voice never rose.

  He didn’t shout, didn’t rage, didn’t cry.

  That, somehow, made it worse.

  “I find them… unpleasant. Ugly. Loud,” he continued. “If the gates wipe them out, I won’t feel anything. Not guilt. Not sadness. Not even satisfaction. Just... nothing.”

  The words chilled the room like winter wind.

  Even Haejoon, who had been fuming a moment ago, now stood frozen.

  Lee Aseok looked the part of a hero, the glowing white attire, the divine sword, the youthful face. But with those eyes, that crooked smirk, and those detached words…

  He looked like a demon dressed in holy clothes.

  Not salvation, but judgment.

  Mu Yichen’s brows furrowed for the first time.

  Seo MinHyun whispered under his breath, “He’s actually serious…”

  Lee Aseok didn’t stay to argue.

  He turned away, walking leisurely toward the double doors. The room didn’t stop him. No one moved. They couldn’t.

  The pressure he left in his wake was suffocating.

  Just as he reached the door, he paused.

  Without looking back, he said quietly, “I’ll wait.”

  Everyone was tense.

  Wait for what?

  Lee Aseok answered them.

  “I’ll wait for you all to come and kill me. I won’t resist. It’ll be easier for everyone that way.”

  The words were calm.

  Like he was offering them tea.

  “I’d rather die than live among humans.”

  The doors creaked open.

  And Lee Aseok walked out, quietly, without fanfare, leaving the entire war council in stunned silence behind him.

  The holy sword, still floating behind his back like a sentinel chained to him by divine will, followed closely.

  No one dared stop him.

  No one dared speak.

  Except for one man.

  Mu Yichen stood up.

  He didn't hesitate. He moved, swift and silent, exiting the room just seconds behind Lee Aseok. His polished boots echoed down the hallway as he followed the pale figure ahead of him.

  The hallway was long and bright. Staff lined the sides, bowing in acknowledgment.

  “Sir Mu.”

  “Mr. Lee…”

  But Lee Aseok passed them like they didn’t exist. He didn’t blink. He didn’t look.

  He walked like a phantom gliding through the living.

  Mu Yichen nodded at them politely. His face was composed, noble, gentle, the picture of grace. But his eyes were locked on Lee Aseok’s back.

  What are you really thinking?

  Inside the elevator, the silence felt heavier.

  As the doors slid shut, the tension grew like a coil winding tighter.

  Mu Yichen finally exhaled softly and leaned against the side rail. “You shouldn’t have said that.”

  He wasn’t angry.

  Just… tired.

  He didn’t expect a reply. Aseok never responded.

  He only stared blankly, as if human voices were faraway static.

  But this time…

  Lee Aseok turned.

  Without a word, he stepped forward. The space between them closed with eerie quiet.

  Mu Yichen froze.

  The other’s face, eerily beautiful, ethereal, too pale, too still, was suddenly close enough to feel the faint breath between them.

  Mu Yichen didn’t breathe. His ears turned red instantly, a flicker of color betraying his composed demeanor.

  Then, Lee Aseok smirked.

  Not joyfully.

  Not cruelly.

  Just… entertained.

  “I’ll do even more,” he whispered, voice as soft as snowfall. “I’ll make everyone go insane.”

  Mu Yichen blinked.

  Not from fear.

  But from something else.

  His eyes rested on the boy standing across from him in the elevator, the strange flicker of madness still dancing in those reddish-brown eyes.

  It wasn’t loud or theatrical. No, it was quiet, the kind of crazy that slept with its eyes open and smiled when talking about death.

  It unsettled him.

  Not because it was dangerous.

  But because it was real.

  And so, without thinking, Mu Yichen slowly raised his hand.

  His palm gently covered those eyes.

  “Aseok,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  Immediately, Lee Aseok took a step back. Not out of fear, not out of shame, just… like a machine resetting its distance setting.

  He looked away.

  The elevator opened.

  Outside, the world was waiting.

  The moment they stepped out of the building, the air buzzed with noise. Reporters had flocked like moths to flame, crowding the entrance with cameras, mics, and hungry questions. Bright flashes lit up the entrance like a battlefield.

  The bodyguards, in perfect formation, were barely managing to hold them back.

  “There he is! The chosen one!”

  “Sir! Mr. Lee Aseok! How does it feel to be humanity’s last hope?!”

  “Are you and Mu Yichen a team now?!”

  “Mr. Mu! How do you feel about the holy sword chosen by someone other than you?!”

  A dozen questions fired at once, each louder than the last.

  Lee Aseok stood still, blinking slowly as if he were watching fish swim in a tank. His face remained unreadable, no surprise, no pride, no irritation.

  Just a blank canvas with cursed eyes.

  The holy sword hovered loyally behind him, floating with serene reverence, glowing faintly in the daylight. Its presence only made the crowd more manic.

  Mu Yichen, ever composed, subtly stepped forward and took hold of Lee Aseok’s wrist.

  It wasn’t forceful.

  But it was definite.

  He didn’t want to see that emptiness again. Not out here. Not in front of vultures disguised as journalists.

  He said nothing, only gave a nod to the head of security, and began walking them both toward the waiting black car.

  The bodyguards made way instantly.

  No one dared stop them.

  Until someone did.

  A young reporter with more ambition than sense stepped in front of the crowd, mic raised high.

  “Mr. Lee!” she shouted. “One more question! How do you really feel about being chosen as a hero? Is it pressure? Is it pride?”

  Mu Yichen’s grip on Aseok’s wrist tightened a fraction.

  He kept walking.

  But Lee Aseok stopped.

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