Mu Yichen glanced at him serenely.

  “I warned you last time not to eat things without checking.”

  “It looked like orange juice!”

  “It’s vinegar water. For digestion.”

  Seo MinHyun groaned and shoved the cup away.

  He glanced again at Lee Aseok, who was finishing his meal with absolute indifference, surrounded by a calm Mu Yichen and a stoic Park Taegun.

  It was surreal.

  The world outside was still in flames. There were calls from government officials, guild masters, and international reporters. Their phones hadn’t stopped vibrating all morning.

  And yet here they were.

  Eating pickled radish and rice like nothing had happened.

  Seo MinHyun slumped in his seat.

  He glanced at Park Taegun again, this time a bit more seriously.

  “You see it too, right?”

  Taegun didn’t look up. “See what.”

  “Yichen.”

  Pause.

  “The way he looks at him.”

  Park Taegun said nothing.

  Which, from Park Taegun, was confirmation.

  Seo MinHyun leaned back with a sigh.

  “Well, at least we’re all on the same sinking ship.”

  He glanced across the table again, watching Mu Yichen carefully refill Lee Aseok’s water glass, his face serene. Lee Aseok didn’t even blink in acknowledgment, just kept chewing.

  Seo MinHyun muttered under his breath.

  “That man is so doomed.”

  After the meal, the table was mostly cleared.

  Mu Yichen stayed behind, quietly collecting the dishes.

  Park Taegun excused himself to make a call.

  Lee Aseok leaned back slightly in his chair, rubbing his stomach.

  Seo MinHyun sat slouched across from him, arms crossed.

  He was still thinking about the “human suffering” comment.

  “You know…” he started slowly. “You really are a lunatic.”

  Lee Aseok didn’t reply.

  “I mean it,” MinHyun continued. “You’ve got issues. Real ones. Most people need therapy after what you pulled. You need an exorcism.”

  Still nothing.

  Seo MinHyun clicked his tongue and looked away.

  “…But fine. You’re eating. That’s… something, I guess.”

  Lee Aseok stood up and walked past him again.

  Seo MinHyun flinched, expecting another insult.

  But Lee Aseok paused.

  Then muttered quietly..

  “You looked stupid eating that fruit.”

  Seo MinHyun blinked.

  “Was that… a joke?”

  Lee Aseok walked away.

  Seo MinHyun’s eye twitched.

  Park Taegun who sits next to him hears MinHyun muttering to himself.

  “I am being emotionally bullied by a living ghost.”

  Seo MinHyun stared across the table at Park Taegun.

  Then at Mu Yichen.

  Then back at the empty chair where Lee Aseok had sat just five minutes ago, finishing his rice like he hadn’t just dropped a national scandal into their laps and walked off.

  Seo MinHyun let out a long, weary sigh.

  “God, we’re screwed.”

  He slumped forward, face in hands.

  Across from him, Park Taegun tapped his fingers against the table rhythmically, already calculating the logistical nightmare ahead.

  His jaw was tight, as if he could already hear the dozens of guild voicemails and the military high command screaming in his inbox.

  He broke the silence first.

  “The government won’t give up. Neither will the major guilds.”

  Seo MinHyun gave a short laugh. “Yeah, and that lunatic won’t give up either. You saw his face. You could set fire to his bed and he’d just roll over.”

  He turned his gaze to Mu Yichen, who was still sitting with his hands folded neatly, gaze calm.

  “So, oh noble leader, any thoughts? Or are you gonna say something cryptic and hopeful again?”

  Mu Yichen didn’t react to the sarcasm.

  Instead, he said gently, “The holy sword chose Lee Aseok for a reason.”

  Seo MinHyun stared.

  Mu Yichen’s eyes didn’t waver.

  “I’m certain,” he added quietly. “That reason will reveal itself in time.”

  Seo MinHyun opened his mouth.

  Then closed it.

  Because deep down, he could feel it too. That weight around Lee Aseok wasn’t just anger or trauma. It was the kind of heaviness that meant something dangerous, something inevitable.

  Still, Seo MinHyun frowned. His pride wouldn’t let him be silent.

  “…I don’t like him,” he muttered.

  Mu Yichen didn’t respond.

  Park Taegun didn’t even look up. Everyone knew it was the opposite.

  Seo MinHyun leaned back and crossed his arms. “I don’t know why. Maybe it’s his face. Or his stupid voice. Or the way he ignores everyone like we’re NPCs in a video game.”

  He paused.

  Then added more quietly, “…But I want to know too. Why did the sword choose him.”

  The next two weeks were chaotic.

  Chaotic in the way natural disasters were.

  First came the calls. Endless, formal, politically worded calls.

  Then the visits.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Representatives from every major guild, division heads from Hunter Authority, military envoys, and high-ranking government officials, all made the pilgrimage to the apartment building that now felt more like a demilitarized zone.

  Lee Aseok greeted exactly none of them.

  Correction: he met them.

  But that was about it.

  He answered the door wearing slippers and a hoodie with a crack in the shoulder seam.

  Didn’t bow.

  Didn’t shake hands.

  Didn’t sit when offered to talk.

  He would stare in silence.

  Then walk away.

  Or worse, ignore their presence entirely like they were an inconvenient dream he’d chosen not to acknowledge.

  Some tried flattery.

  Some tried force.

  One guild leader attempted guilt-tripping.

  Lee Aseok calmly stared at him and said, “If you’re going to cry, cry somewhere else.”

  Another raised his voice.

  Lee Aseok tilted his head and said, “Kill me or leave.”

  The man had stormed out.

  Mu Yichen watched most of these encounters from the kitchen.

  Park Taegun took notes, silently.

  Seo MinHyun, who had started out enjoying the drama with popcorn, gradually went from entertained to stressed to spiritually exhausted.

  The final straw was the check.

  A well-known guide association president had shown up with flowers and a proposal.

  Lee Aseok, without blinking, handed him a sealed envelope.

  Inside was a signed check.

  Amount: 3.7 billion won.

  Memo line: Please go away.

  The man had stood frozen at the door for a full thirty seconds before muttering, “I… I can’t do this,” and leaving like a war survivor.

  News spread fast.

  Social media lit up with theories.

  “Did the chosen one just BRIBE the guilds to leave him alone???”

  “Check that handwriting, he wrote it with a gel pen. In green ink. Is this a performance piece???”

  “Honestly if I was that rich and mentally done, I would also throw money at my problems.”

  “Legend.”

  “My new role model.”

  The rest of the world didn’t find it so funny.

  The international press demanded statements.

  Rumors of Lee Aseok’s mental stability circulated like wildfire. Some called it a breakdown. Others called it rebellion.

  There were conspiracy theories that the government had brainwashed him and failed.

  One even accused Mu Yichen of plotting a coup.

  Still, through it all, Lee Aseok remained unchanged.

  Every morning, he sat on the same sofa.

  Sometimes watched anime.

  Sometimes he just stared into space with a dead expression, like his soul was lagging behind his body.

  And every single time someone knocked on that door, he responded with one of two options:

  “Kill me.”

  Or:

  “Leave.”

  The message was clear.

  He had no intention of playing hero.

  By the end of the second week, even the most persistent guilds had given up.

  Not because they’d found peace.

  But because they looked into the dead eyes of Lee Aseok and realized:

  It wasn’t worth it.

  One guild rep had walked out muttering, “I’d rather die fighting a hellspawn than speak to that man again.”

  Soon after, even the government quietly scaled back their efforts.

  Lee Aseok had become an urban myth.

  A holy sword wielder who threatened high-ranking officials with death, bribed billion-won cheques to get out of meetings, and spent his days watching anime in a hoodie that had definitely not been washed in three days.

  And yet,

  The sword still hovered beside him.

  Floating gently.

  Glowing faintly.

  Like it was happy.

  This was the real issue.

  Because throughout all recorded history, the holy object only ever chose one person. One bond.

  One wielder. And after that wielder died, so did the holy object. It vanished without a trace.

  But this time…

  This time, something was off.

  Lee Aseok hadn’t accepted the bond. He hadn’t completed the pairing. He hadn’t even touched the sword since the day it chose him.

  And still, it hovered beside him like an obsessed pet.

  Which led to the second problem.

  If Lee Aseok died… would the sword disappear?

  Or worse, would it go berserk?

  It was a question no one could answer.

  And yet, watching Lee Aseok sitting cross-legged on the couch, blank-eyed and halfway through his seventh consecutive episode of a magical girl series, Mu Yichen could only sigh.

  The chosen one looked more like a shut-in than a hero.

  Park Taegun walked past, glanced at the TV, and said, “Didn’t he already watch this one?”

  Mu Yichen nodded.

  “He said he likes the background music.”

  Park Taegun didn’t respond. Just stared for a moment at Lee Aseok, who hadn’t moved in an hour, then kept walking.

  Seo MinHyun was lying on the floor next to the coffee table, an ice pack over his forehead like he’d just lost a war.

  “I think I’ve aged twenty years,” he murmured.

  Mu Yichen looked at him. “You’re not even twenty-five.”

  “Exactly,” Seo MinHyun groaned. “I’m going to die young. All because of your chosen one.”

  Mu Yichen ignored the jab.

  Instead, he exhaled quietly and said, “The guild master of Shadow Guild requested a meeting.”

  There was silence.

  Then:

  Seo MinHyun blinked.

  “…You mean..”

  Mu Yichen nodded once.

  “Mother, Qin Yue.”

  Seo MinHyun’s hand dropped the ice pack.

  His entire soul visibly left his body.

  “Why?” he asked weakly.

  “Because she’s the only one left,” Mu Yichen replied simply.

  “…Why now?”

  “Because she’s angry.”

  Seo MinHyun made a noise halfway between a laugh and a sob. “Of course she is.”

  Qin Yue was not just Mu Yichen’s mother.

  She was the founder and guild master of Shadow Guild, one of the most powerful independent guilds in the nation. Ruthless, intelligent, and terrifying.

  Once known as the “Iron Widow,” she could strike down monsters and politicians with the same grace.

  And now she wanted to meet Lee Aseok.

  Alone.

  Seo MinHyun sat up slowly.

  His voice was hoarse.

  “Yichen. Please. For the sake of national peace. Don’t let them be in the same room. Do not let a woman who once leveled a city block because someone insulted your haircut and meet a man who threatened to stab a colonel because he was too loud.”

  Mu Yichen didn’t answer.

  Which was already an answer.

  Seo MinHyun lay sprawled on the living room couch like a man freshly defeated in battle.

  “My life,” he moaned, dragging a pillow dramatically over his face, “is full of misery.”

  Park Taegun, seated across from him at the dining table with military-straight posture, didn’t bother looking up from his laptop. “You’ve said that three times today.”

  “And I’ll say it again when I hear the front door slam tomorrow,” Seo MinHyun replied, muffled through the pillow. “We’re really letting those two meet in private?”

  Mu Yichen sat quietly beside the bookshelf, sipping tea like a scholar contemplating war strategies. His gentle, composed face gave away nothing, but his silence weighed heavier than words.

  Seo MinHyun rolled onto his side to face him. “Yichen. You sure this is a good idea? We’re talking about your mother. The infamous Qin Yue. The woman who punched a B-rank into unconsciousness for using her name in a joke.”

  Mu Yichen’s smile was mild. “She hasn’t done that in years.”

  “That happened last year.”

  Mu Yichen paused. “He had it coming.”

  “Are we really letting them meet in private?” he asked no one in particular, his voice dripping with theatrical dread. “That’s like locking two predators in a room and hoping they learn to hug.”

  No one responded.

  Lee Aseok sat on the floor, eyes half-lidded, his knees drawn close with a cup of instant noodles in his hand.

  The holy sword floated lazily behind him, occasionally spinning a slow circle as if it, too, had given up on the world.

  Across the room, Park Taegun sat stiff-backed in a dining chair, reading a document. Unbothered. Efficient. Typical.

  Mu Yichen, meanwhile, was by the window, arms crossed, watching the rain drizzle down the glass like he was calculating the future through patterns in the storm.

  He finally turned and broke the silence.

  “You’ll meet her tomorrow?”

  Lee Aseok nodded.

  He didn’t need to say it out loud. Everyone in the room already knew what that nod meant.

  He knew.

  He knew Qin Yue, Mu Yichen’s mother, Guild Master of the Shadow Guild, was the last line of defense.

  The government, the guilds, the entire alliance of “reasonable authority” had already tried negotiation, threats, diplomacy, bribes, and even a gift basket from the Ministry of Awakened Affairs.

  None of it worked.

  Now they were sending her.

  Qin Yue.

  A woman whose reputation alone caused minor earthquakes among cabinet members.

  Lee Aseok smirked. It wasn’t warm. It wasn’t even polite.

  It was the sort of smirk you gave when watching an avalanche roll down the mountain toward a village you didn’t particularly like.

  He stood up wordlessly and walked back to his room.

  Seo MinHyun watched the door close and let out a dramatic exhale.

  “Well,” he muttered, “guess I should start writing my will.”

  Park Taegun glanced up from his datapad. “You don’t own anything.”

  “I own trauma,” Seo said solemnly. “And drama. Lots of drama.”

  Taegun rolled his eyes.

  Mu Yichen remained by the window, arms crossed. He watched Lee Aseok’s retreating back, a quiet sigh slipping past his lips.

  He’d tried. Truly.

  For weeks now, he’d tried to get close to Lee Aseok, offering help, conversation, training, even cooking.

  But it was like trying to befriend a boulder. A cold, silent boulder that occasionally stared through you like it remembered your sins from a previous life.

  And yet, the mystery only deepened.

  Who was Lee Aseok really?

  Why was he so indifferent and so alone?

  Why did he flinch at nothing… but look like he’d already lost everything?

  The next day.

  Top floor of the Shadow Guild Headquarters.

  The entire floor had been cleared.

  Sunlight poured in from floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across polished marble. At the far end of the room, a sleek, modern company table sat by itself, small, cold, and imposing.

  On the black leather sofa nearby, Mu Yichen, Seo MinHyun, and Park Taegun sat side by side.

  Three of the top-ranked hunters in the country.

  And none of them spoke.

  Park Taegun looked like a statue. Arms crossed, posture stiff, eyes sharp.

  Mu Yichen sat with his fingers laced, calm, and unreadable.

  And Seo MinHyun..was quietly vibrating in place.

  “This feels like a funeral,” he whispered. “Except worse, because I might be the corpse.”

  “No one is here for you,” Taegun replied flatly.

  “That’s what makes it worse! She won’t even notice me before she destroys my self-esteem.”

  A few meters away, at the small company table, Lee Aseok sat with his back straight, arms at his sides, posture oddly graceful for someone who seemed to have no interest in being perceived.

  Across from him sat Qin Yue.

  If Mu Yichen was the embodiment of noble restraint, then Qin Yue was the woman who taught him what restraint was.

  The meeting room was silent.

  Lee Aseok sat rigidly, his posture unchanging as his gaze flicked to the holy sword floating beside him.

  It hovered, unblinking, the legendary blade that had chosen him, yet now, as if reflecting his mood, it seemed reluctant, almost childish.

  Aseok’s eyes narrowed, and a slow, almost imperceptible scowl crept onto his face.

  The sword, as if sensing his displeasure, wavered mid-air, then began drifting, slowly, petulantly, toward the farthest corner of the room.

  It hovered there, nestled beside a coat rack like a sulking child who had been sent to timeout.

  No one spoke.

  Seo MinHyun’s mouth hung open in stunned silence, while Park Taegun merely raised an eyebrow, expression unchanged but clearly registering the bizarre spectacle.

  Mu Yichen sat quietly, brows furrowed, watching Lee Aseok’s every move.

  Qin Yue, the Shadow Guild’s formidable guildmaster and Mu Yichen’s mother, sat across from Lee Aseok, her arms crossed, her sharp eyes fixed intently on the motionless figure in front of her.

  “This sword,” Qin Yue began, voice cold and clear, “does not belong to you.”

  The words landed like thunder.

  Lee Aseok’s body stiffened. He met her gaze calmly.

  “Then kill me,” he said simply, voice low but steady. “So your son can have it.”

  For a heartbeat, the room froze.

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