Boredom, Candy, and the Hunter Gallery
Second day alone. Bored out of my mind.
I woke up on the sofa in a disheveled heap.
“…I’m so bored.”
Yesterday had at least kept me busy—relearning how to walk, waging war with eggs, turning from sword back into a person. But yesterday was still better than this.
Nothing to do. Absolutely nothing.
I can’t go outside. The moment a blue-haired little girl in nothing but a white T-shirt steps out the door, police cars will come screeching up.
…Why doesn’t this office have even a single pair of pants?
So I’ve been glued to this sofa since yesterday.
I am the sofa. The sofa is me.
Byeori! The unnies are heading out for work. Two nights, three days! Take good care of the office~ ♡
I’d read the sticky note on the desk a hundred times today alone.
…One day left.
Weird. When I spent three years as a lump of metal, I never cared whether time passed or not. But now that I’m alive again… it’s nice.
“I’m sooo bored~”
Boredom aside!
Roll. Roll roll.
This won’t do. When you’re bored, what do you do?
Search the place. Down to the last speck of dust!
I tumbled off the sofa and started yanking open desk drawers one by one.
First drawer—documents.
Second drawer—more documents.
Third drawer.
…I found candy!
Secretary, you were hiding these and eating them all by yourself?
I popped one into my mouth.
“……!!”
My tongue melted. The inside of my cheek tingled. My feet started dancing on their own.
Just one piece of candy and my whole body threw a festival.
“…S-strawberry flavor is this good.”
While I bounced around, my hands naturally kept rummaging through the secretary’s drawer. The owner, enchanted by sweetness, automatically peeled a second candy.
“Muhihi.”
With two strawberry candies stuffed in my cheeks, I was munching away like a juggler when something else caught my eye.
On the desk sat an old-fashioned computer that looked like it belonged under a blue sky on a green lawn.
…A computer?
“Computer!”
Right—I hadn’t touched the internet in three years! A sword doesn’t have hands or eyes. I’d spent every day either leaning against a wall or letting my owners stroke my sturdy hilt and gleaming blade. I never got to see how the world was turning.
How had it changed?
The holy land I used to glue myself to twenty-four hours a day before awakening. The Hunter Gallery. Commonly known as Heon-gal.
“……”
I could hear my own heartbeat from here.
The problem was the computer sat a little… high for me.
With effort, I clambered onto the chair. Even then my eye level was off, so I stacked two cushions that had been rolling around on the sofa.
My arms still didn’t reach the keyboard properly, but…
“Done!”
It wasn’t like I was going to play games, so this was plenty.
Turning on someone else’s computer without permission nagged at me for about three seconds.
“Muhihi!”
What could I do? If I stayed like this I’d die of boredom anyway.
Luckily, the computer had no password.
I opened the browser and typed the familiar words into the search bar.
“Huuuuh, Huuunter, Gaaallleeeryyy.”
Connected.
The Heon-gal after three years was half unfamiliar, half exactly the same. Half the memes on the real-time best board were new to me. The ones I remembered had vanished long ago, and the fresh ones made no sense at all.
…I’d turned into an old fogey.
But the smell was still the same. Whenever someone bragged, a crowd swarmed to feel jealous. Whenever someone caused trouble, everyone grabbed popcorn to watch. Unrelated drips rolled around in the background.
“This place hasn’t changed at all?”
Somehow, that was comforting. While the whole world flipped upside down, this one corner had stayed the same.
Scrolling along, my hand stopped at a familiar corner.
The Weapon Discussion Board.
The place I used to camp even before awakening—checking equipment prices, giving unsolicited advice on maintenance as if I were someone important.
It was different now. These days I knew more about weapon care than anyone else in the world.
Obviously. Who doesn’t know how to wash their own body?
“No, no. You’ve got the reason wrong! The reason!”
The fake engraving was correct.
But that sword was heading for an early grave not because of the hilt, but because the center of gravity was skewed toward the blade. If it were a sleek, perfectly balanced masterpiece like me, maybe not—but something like that would snap the wrist before the sword itself gave out if swung hard.
“…Heh.”
Back when I first debuted in the world, everyone had drooled over that flawless balance, begging for just one touch. And now…
I glanced down at my own body.
“……”
Silently, I scrolled further.
A few pages later.
‘……Sword retirement.’
A small laugh slipped out.
Finding people talking about me was nice, but… now I was just treated like an old relic.
Bitter… I thought it would feel bitter, but surprisingly it didn’t. Was it because I had a body now?
More than that, one comment kept catching my eye.
‘Even a broken sword is resting well somewhere.’
“…Heh.”
That was exactly my current situation. Stuck in someone else’s office, stealing candy and browsing the gallery…
I clicked the username. SweetTourPerformance. A fixed nickname.
When I tried to send a message, it asked me to log in first. My account password from three years ago… no way I remembered that.
I made a new one.
Username: something simple. SofaBoundSpirit?
The reply came faster than expected. Maybe they were just another unemployed gallery addict like I used to be.
Used a sword for a long time. I thought they were just another unemployed type, but apparently they were a sword-class hunter or something similar.
Fair enough. It was strange to message someone out of the blue about a long-retired sword.
After a moment’s thought, I told half the truth.
Of course it doesn’t feel like someone else’s when it’s literally about you.
“Good grief.”
Even while grumbling, my fingers were already typing the next reply.
It had been three years. Three years since I’d had a proper back-and-forth conversation with anyone.
During those three years without a mouth, I could only listen. People joking with each other, bickering, occasionally letting slip what was really on their minds.
Words I wanted to jump in with piled up in my throat… well, swords don’t have throats. Anyway, even when I was bursting with things to say, all I could do was swallow them back down.
So I knew. The habits and speech patterns of the people who had passed through me… even information they themselves didn’t realize.
For example, the way they always readjusted their grip on the hilt twice after winning a fight, or the habit of falling asleep without a single thread of clothing—
…Well, what use was any of that now.
“Heh.”
But right now, conversation was possible. I could say everything I wanted to say.
And somehow, that felt really good.
***
At the very moment one sword was stealthily eyeing a third piece of candy, somewhere in Seoul—
In the private training room on the top floor of a certain guild, a woman set down her phone and let out a small laugh.
“SofaBoundSpirit… Pfft, what a cute name.”
Outside the window, the city’s night view stretched out far below. The kind of height most guilds could only dream of reaching.
When she stood up, the swords mounted on the wall rack gleamed quietly under the lights. More than ten famous blades. Each one priceless.
Yet her gaze stopped not on those splendid swords, but on the empty space at the very end of the rack—where nothing hung.
“…Sword retirement, huh.”
She gently brushed the empty spot with her fingertips and murmured. For a brief moment, a wistful look crossed her face.
Long ago, there had been one sword she had named with her own hands and sent away.
Byeori.
She had given that name to a shining blade.
That very sword was currently in some shabby office, pilfering candy. And until just moments ago, it had been exchanging silly jokes with her.
She had no way of knowing that.
She picked up her phone again. Then, for some reason, she sent a reply to the oddly familiar SofaBoundSpirit—let’s talk again when we have time.
***
Evening of the third day.
Being alone for three days had its own rhythm now.
I filled my meals with boiled eggs, swung a wooden sword a few times for fun during the day, and popped into the Hunter Gallery whenever I had a spare moment.
…Not bad. It almost felt like the nostalgia of my past unemployed days was creeping back in.
As the sun was slowly sinking, I lay sprawled on the sofa and glanced at the sticky note again.
Two nights, three days! ♡
Two nights, three days… probably coming back this evening.
What should I say when we meet? I had plenty to say, but maybe start with thanks? Even if this body was a bit much… thanks to them, I’d escaped being scrap metal, after all.
I should start getting ready.
While mulling that over, I glanced toward the front door.
Click—
The sound of the lock turning.
“Huh?”
My heart lurched.
I wasn’t mentally prepared at all. I hadn’t even decided what excuse to make!
‘Sword! Turn back into a sword—’
My head knew what to do, but my body was slow. This body I’d only had for three years still didn’t feel natural…!
The door opened.
Two people with backpacks stepped inside, then froze on the spot.
And they saw me. A blue-haired little girl standing there awkwardly, neither here nor there.
“……W-who are you?!”
Ah, this was going to be a pain.