I Became an Ego Sword

I opened my eyes.

…I opened my eyes?

An unfamiliar ceiling stared back at me.

Office fluorescent lights, morning sun stretching long beside them.

Hang on. Something's weird here.

I am a sword.

Swords don't have eyes. They don't close them or open them, and they sure as hell don't sleep.

For three straight years I had been wide awake, day and night. Watching the good stuff, the bad stuff, the filthy stuff — that was the whole job description of being a sword.

But just now, I had definitely been asleep. Deeply, thoroughly asleep.

"…What the hell?"

A voice came out.

A voice… came out?

"Huh? Huuuh? A voice…? Eueh…?"

I tried saying it a few more times into empty air.

I had no idea what was going on, but every time sound left my mouth, goosebumps raced down my spine.

Well, yeah. It had been three years. Three years since I'd spoken out loud.

"Eueh…?"

But… something was off. This wasn't my voice.

It ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was getting fuzzy, but my voice used to be lower than this. Deeper. A man's voice. What was coming out now was some kind of…

"Ah, ah. Mic check. One, two."

A little girl's voice?

And a really young one, at that.

A cold premonition climbed my spine, but I forced myself to ignore it and looked down.

Hands. Small, white hands.

"H-hands…!"

Real hands that wriggled and flexed when I told them to.

Open, close. Squish, squish.

"Holy shit, that's insane…! Hands! Actual hands…!"

A dream? No — swords can't dream in the first place!

I had no idea what any of this meant, but for a while I just sat there opening and closing my fists in pure, overwhelming gratitude.

…Okay, hang on a second.

I hate to kill the mood again, but aren't these a little small?

The hands I remembered were at least twice this size. The knuckles were thicker, and they sure weren't this pale.

These looked soft enough to be pudding.

No way it was just the hands.

With trembling fingers I touched my face. Soft, squishy cheeks.

I touched my hair. It… wait, it reaches my waist? Long, silky, swishy.

"…Don't tell me."

I almost peeked farther down — then some instinct screamed that looking directly would be a disaster, so I scrambled upright instead.

Or rather, I tried to.

"Hyaek?!"

Crash, bang, thud!

My legs had zero strength. I half-rolled off the desk and hit the floor.

Of course legs I hadn't used in three years weren't going to listen.

"Hyat… ow ow ow…"

The bruised tailbone was secondary. That sound I'd just made.

Hyat? Hyaaaaaat?

What kind of noise was a twenty-five-year-old military-veteran man's man making right now…

…Anyway. Mirror. Mirror first.

I crawled on all fours toward the mirror hanging on the wall. Crawling was way faster than standing, honestly.

Once I got there, I grunted and heaved myself up.

"…Who are youuu?"

In the mirror, some doll-like little girl was staring back at me.

Indigo hair sharp as a blade's edge, cascading to her waist. A face no bigger than a fist… and pale silver-gray eyes blinking, blinking.

"……Hyaaaaaaaak?!"

The second reality finally hit, a scream tore out of me on its own. The girl in the mirror threw her mouth wide open and screamed right along with me.

"W-what is this?! That's me?! That's me?!"

I poked a cheek. Squish — my finger sank right in.

The kid in the mirror was poking her cheek too, wearing the same blank, dumbfounded expression.

"Hieek…"

A little girl. I had become a little gi—

"Uuh… uuuuh…"

I stumbled backward without meaning to, and bare skin met cold wall. Goosebumps exploded across me; I shuddered hard, and the girl in the mirror shivered her tiny body right back at me.

"It's a dream, right? This has to be… no, uuugh."

It couldn't be a dream. Swords don't dream, and besides — my tailbone was still throbbing from that fall. Far too real for a dream.

So this was… real. Overnight, I had become a little girl.

"……Ha."

All I could manage was a hollow laugh.

Whatever! It's fine! I'm the guy who turned into a sword overnight and rolled with it for three years, remember? Something like this won't break me.

…Okay, fine, I was right on the edge of breaking.

My junior… that proud, towering symbol of manhood, that magnificent sword hilt of mine….

I took a deep breath.

One. Two.

And only then did the truly critical fact slam into view.

I was not wearing a single thread of clothing.

"C-clothes…!"

Maybe it was because I'd only just gotten a body back after three years. The breeze ghosting over my pure white skin finally registered, and I scrambled around looking for anything to wear.

A blanket on the sofa. Yeah, no — that looked way too scratchy. Instead, a big short-sleeve T-shirt tossed over the chair right next to it.

No idea if it was the Guild Leader's or the secretary's, but this was an emergency. I yanked it on. I couldn't exactly stay naked.

"Uuu…"

…The T-shirt came down to my knees. Might as well have been a dress.

I grumbled my way through straightening it out and checked the mirror again. A blue-haired little girl in an oversized tee stood there looking thoroughly unimpressed.

"……Putting clothes on just makes me look even more like a kid. Elementary schooler? No… preschooler?"

…Priorities. Clothes: handled. Next up: walking.

I grabbed the sofa and stood. One step.

Wobble.

Two steps.

Wobble-wobble.

"Uh, uhh…! Haut…"

On the third step I face-planted straight into the carpet.

It didn't hurt, but…

"Ugh, damn it."

Infuriating! Who decides at my age that they get to learn how to walk a second time?!

Still, after looping the sofa a couple of times, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I got the hang of it. The short little steps from the short little legs… well, that part I'd just have to live with.

Pat-pat-pat-pat.

On a roll now, I toddled over to the window and peeked past the curtain.

People hurried past on their way to work across the street. The world was spinning along exactly the same as yesterday.

…I was the only one whose species had changed overnight. Technically I'd gone back to being human, but still.

"……Whew."

After all that chaos, my throat felt scratchy. I whipped my head around and spotted a water cooler tucked in the kitchen corner.

Drink some water, cool my head. That was the plan as I walked over.

"…It's so high!"

Even stretching my arms all the way up, I couldn't reach the paper cup dispenser sitting on top of the cooler.

"Aagh, uuut!"

My fingertips just barely grazed the bottom of the cup sleeve.

Boing. Boing. Boing!

Why would anyone put the cups that high up?! Put them somewhere normal people can reach!

"Uuuu…! Why is it so hiiigh…!"

The real culprit was my newly pathetic height, of course. But the water cooler still looked smug somehow, like it was mocking me, and that made it even more annoying.

"…You dumb mute appliance! You don't even have a body!"

Forgetting entirely that I'd been in the exact same boat until yesterday, I thumped the cooler with hands the size of baby potatoes and lodged a deeply serious complaint.

Then my nose prickled. Before I could go huh?, my eyes started burning too.

"…Hic."

Wait.

Am I crying? …Because I can't reach a paper cup?

My brain was screaming that this was complete nonsense and to cut it the hell out, but my eyes were already swimming.

What even is this. Menopause? No, I've got decades before that becomes a problem….

I scrubbed at my eyes with the hem of the shirt, dragged a chair over with a lot of grunting, and finally pulled a cup free.

"……Hmm."

My head was a mess. Even after downing two full cups of water and flopping onto the sofa in a full cross-legged sprawl, it stayed a mess.

Okay. Let's sort this out.

Last night, the Guild Leader had stroked me and made a wish.

She wished I were an Ego Sword. She wished I were an incredibly cute kid.

And then a system window had popped up — something about my class evolving.

So, putting it together…

That wish is what turned me into an Ego Sword. Complete with a maxed-out cuteness stat, tailored exactly to what my new owner wanted…?

"Uuuugh! Who even makes a wish like that, seriously?!"

If you're going to wish, wish me into a handsome young man! Or at the very least into some ice-cold, top-tier beauty of a girl so there's something to look at!

On the off chance, I lifted the T-shirt and checked underneath — nothing but Naju Plain levels of smooth flatness, which only piled on the resentment.

I had a mountain of things to say and absolutely no one to say them to.

"Come to think of it…"

The office was quiet.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

I'd been making this much noise and hadn't heard a single sound this whole time.

I realized it late and pattered around checking, but—

"…Hello? Guild Leader? Are you theeeere…?"

No answer. The bathroom was empty. The spot where two backpacks had been was empty too.

That was when the sticky note on the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠desk caught my eye.

Round, bubbly handwriting.

Underneath it, a second line in sharper handwriting had been stuck on.

Come to think of it, I vaguely remembered hearing something like that yesterday….

"……"

I reached to peel the sticky notes off, then left them. They'd told me to watch the office. Might as well watch these too while I was at it.

Anyway, one thing was crystal clear now. For the next two nights and three days, I was alone in this office.

"Well, fine. Actually, this works out."

Better to meet someone after getting my head on straight than with zero preparation.

Three days to get used to this body and figure out how I'm going to explain any of it.

And for that, first…

"Status window."

Fwoosh—!

"Oh. It actually came up."

Radio silence for three whole years as a sword, and the second I turn human it finally bothers to show. Useless piece of junk.

"Let's see…"

Acquired Sword Strikes: five.

…Sword Strikes probably means sword techniques. And five of them — wait, from the people who wielded me?

"But what's with the question marks."

Five is five. Why the question marks. Since when does the system not know something.

"Hey. You know. You totally know and you're just being like this."

I argued with the status window in complete seriousness. The window did not answer.

"Tsk!"

Physical Output at 17 percent… yeah, I didn't need anyone to spell that out. One look at these pathetic arms told the whole story.

Sword Strike Fusion: Locked. No explanation.

Something more was in there that it just didn't feel like sharing yet.

And last of all.

"…Emotional Output? Calibration?"

Weird phrasing, but I could put a few pieces together.

Screaming at a mirror. Eyes welling up over paper cups… And my intelligent, gentlemanly, ruggedly charming way of talking had vanished without a trace.

The wish. A kid so cute that just looking at her makes you feel better.

"……I hate this! You're mean!"

Ugh, I was trying to swear — why did that come out.

Anyway, this was not something I could just let slide. The second she gets back, I'm going through it point by point from one to te—

…But what exactly was I going to chew her out for.

Now that I actually tried, it felt kind of awkward…?

Did the Guild Leader even know the wish would come true? It's not like she could've asked a sword, "Hey, I'm about to wish for this, you cool with that?"

If you really had to pin the blame, it was on the world and the system. Blaming the Guild Leader felt a little unfair.

"…Ah. There's no one to even be mad at."

That was the most frustrating part. Worse than the body. Nowhere to aim the anger.

I was genuinely grateful she'd given me my freedom back, but… this was personality assassination of a whole different kind!

Before I forgot, I tore off a sticky note and wrote down what I wanted to say.

I'd had a mountain of things I wanted to unload, and this was all that made it onto the paper.

Still, though…

"…Oh. It writes fine."

My speech had gone weird, but writing still came out normal.

So what if I wrote down my thoughts first and then just read them out loud as-is?

Nobody was around anyway. Worth a test.

No, seriously, what kind of situation even is th—

"—what kind of situation is thiiis…! Heuing…!"

Yeah. Nope. Filtering works great.

I gave up cleanly.

"…Haaah."

Tremble, tremble.

An old childhood memory floated up.

Back in the glory days of school lunch obsession. Getting cornered by the school bullies with their "Dude this kid is hilarious. Hey, do that thing again. What, you don't wanna? Ooh, guys, he says he doesn't wanna~" and being forced to act cute. That mortifying, soul-crushing memory!

"You're mean. You dumb stupid idiots…!"

I tried dumping out a full bowl of proper swearing, and all that came out were words that only made me madder.

What is wrong with this filter! If I could just cuss properly, at least I'd feel better….

"Do I have to write everything down every time we talk? Is there no way around the filter? What if I stick an at-sign in the middl—"

Grrrrgle—

"…Heueng."

Hunger. Been three years since I felt this too.

Well, yeah. I've got a body now. Of course I'd get hungry.

Even the Diamond Mountains look better after a meal. Fill the stomach first, then get mad properly.

I stopped grumbling, went looking for food, and opened the fridge.

And for a moment, words failed me.

Two bottles of soju. One carton of eggs.

…That was it.

"……We're doomed."

I closed the door, then opened it again just in case.

Still two bottles of soju. Still one carton of eggs.

This guild really was one step from going under. There's a saying that if you're going to become an Ego Sword, at least become one for a rich household — and of all the guilds in the world, I end up in one about to go completely bankrupt…

Aigoo. What a life.