Reincarnated Sword Ghost-Chapter 1 : Lazy Ghost

Lazy Ghost
Yu Jeong-un.
That was his name.
He was the youngest son of the Yu household, located in a rural village in Hanzhong, Shaanxi Province, a family rather well-known in the area as a martial clan.
That was who he was.
He was lying in bed.
Ever since he had been old enough to remember, his bed was where he had spent the most time.
His status as the child of a martial household was almost laughable, given how much time he spent in bed.
He had never even tried martial arts or swordsmanship training.
He had never even considered learning them.
He was certainly the child of a martial clan, but he had no interest in martial arts.
No, perhaps precisely because he was the child of a martial clan, he wanted to avoid it even more.
He had witnessed up close just how grueling martial training was.
The household's warriors usually woke at dawn and continued their training until late in the afternoon.
Some even skipped meals, lingering in the training hall well into the night.
It seemed as if they knew no satisfaction.
Jeong-un couldn't understand them.
Why did they torment their bodies so relentlessly?
There were so many more enjoyable things in the world that didn't require all that effort.
Or rather, was it even necessary to seek out something enjoyable?
Simply staying still, everything was comfortable.
Meals were brought to him when the time came, as was water for washing.
Even the cleaning was taken care of without his asking, as long as he stayed in bed.
So Jeong-un had spent all seventeen years of his life mostly confined to his bed.
His life was exceedingly comfortable and peaceful.
All Jeong-un needed to do was enjoy that comfortable life.
And yet...
'... What kind of dream was that?'
In his dream, Jeong-un had been a boy—a much younger boy than he was now.
Then he became a young man, and eventually middle-aged.
Up until a fairly old age, he wielded a sword.
For dozens of years, he swung the sword, until one day he was killed, both arms severed, by a vagabond.
It was a very long life, well past his current seventeen years.
And yet, every moment of that life felt so vivid.
At the same time, memories of his life as Jeong-un felt just as real.
Caught in this surreal sense of alienation, Jeong-un unconsciously shuddered.
'... It must have been a dream.'
It couldn't be anything but a dream.
Jeong-un lowered his gaze and looked at his hands.
His palms were smooth, unmarred by calluses.
He had never held anything heavy—let alone a sword.
The only things he'd ever held were a silver spoon for eating and a few books he flipped through when bored.
But in the dream, Jeong-un held a sword more than anything else.
He had swung the sword as many times as he had drawn breath.
The weighty feeling of gripping the sword hilt in his hand.
More than anything, that sensation lingered, impossible to forget.
"......"
Jeong-un slowly raised his head and looked around.
It was a familiar sight.
A luxurious room.
Though there weren't many, various pieces of furniture and decorations caught his eye.
Jeong-un threw back the covers and rose from bed.
"......"
But something felt odd.
The sensation of pressing his soles to the floor as he stood up felt remarkably acute.
The chill of the floor against his skin registered with utter clarity.
He slowly lifted his feet and began to pace around the room, unconsciously checking various places.
Sometimes bending down as well, he searched for something without knowing what it was.
He was simply moving on instinct, as if it was a habit etched into his body.
Then suddenly, he realized what it was he was searching for.
'... A sword.'
Jeong-un stopped dead in his tracks.
The object he was seeking was none other than a sword.
Only then did he recall that he had never once owned a sword.
Jeong-un never had a sword.
He simply had no need for one.
He hadn't tried training—not even once—let alone practiced with a sword.
So he never needed one.
Of course, when he was young, there had been an opportunity to be granted a sword by his father, the family head.
But he had rejected it outright.
His other siblings, conversely, had desperately longed for their own real swords.
They couldn't wait to receive their blades directly from the family head.
So Jeong-un had been a bit worried.
He had thought his father might be angry with him for being so different from his siblings.
But the opposite was true.
His father didn't get angry at all.
As if he had expected nothing, he merely nodded with an expressionless face.
Moreover, he never scolded Jeong-un for staying away from the training hall, either.
His other siblings would be lectured severely if they didn't show up for just a day, but Jeong-un was the exception.
Even as a child, he found it odd but never pressed the matter, since he too preferred things that way.
He vaguely wondered if it was out of pity for losing his mother at a young age.
Since then, he had lived shut away in his room.
'I have no sword...'
Realizing he couldn't just grab a sword at the moment, Jeong-un stood still, then brought both hands forward.
He brought his fists together as if holding something, raised them high above his head, and then brought them down forcefully.
It was the motion of swinging a sword.
In that moment, Jeong-un could clearly feel the unfamiliar, yet oddly familiar, sensation of his thin arms' little muscle flexing.
He had certainly never felt this before, yet it was strikingly real.
This time, he twisted his body, swinging the imaginary sword to the side.
He slowly drew his hands to his solar plexus, then abruptly thrust them out into the air.
Simultaneously, one foot shot forward without his conscious instruction.
Jeong-un straightened his posture and looked down at his open palm.
"......"
It was a curious feeling.
He had never performed such movements in his life, nor had he ever wanted to.
And yet, it felt strangely familiar, as if it was ingrained in his body.
As if his body moved on its own without conscious intent.
Jeong-un formed his hands again around an imaginary sword.
Raised it above his head, brought it down, slashed sideways, and thrust into the air.
Again and again.
Whoosh!
Fwoosh!
He began repeating the motions.
Before he knew it, his eyes closed.
He wanted to fully relive the sensations he had experienced in his dream through decades of repetition.
He kept moving, cutting, thrusting.
Already, he was moving more than he ever had in his entire life.
Soon, his muscles began to ache as if they were tearing.
But he couldn't stop.
No, he didn't want to stop.
He realized there was a pleasure that surpassed the comfort and ease he'd always known.
A vast, indescribable sense of fulfillment washed over Jeong-un.
At the same time, he began to yearn for something unknown.
It was not enough—he knew instinctively, and in the dream, that it was not the end.
Crash─!
Suddenly, Jeong-un staggered and collapsed without realizing it.
He had pushed his body too hard, a body not accustomed to such movement.
The imaginary sword he was holding slipped from his grip.
Naturally, there was no sound of a sword dropping.
"Huff, huff..."
Jeong-un gasped for air, sprawled on the cold floor.
His muscles, pushed beyond their limits, cried out in agony.
But he did not feel pain.
If anything, he felt regret.
He wanted to move more, to swing more.
At that moment, the door suddenly burst open.
"... Y-young master!"
The one who rushed in without a word was the guard who usually attended him.
Hearing the commotion from the otherwise silent room, the guard had dashed in.
When he saw Jeong-un collapsed and panting on the floor, he was startled.
He quickly came over, calmly checked Jeong-un's pulse, looked at his complexion and pupils, and listened intently to his breathing.
"......"
Only after confirming that nothing was seriously wrong did he let out a big sigh of relief.
After giving Jeong-un a moment to collect himself, he gently propped him up against the wall before speaking carefully.
"Young master, what happened here?"
Even if there seemed to be no physical harm, it was most unusual to find him collapsed on the floor like this.
He had to confirm what had befallen the young master.
At that moment, Jeong-un, having just caught his breath, slowly opened his mouth.
"......"
But, having pushed his body for the first time ever, his voice didn't come out right.
And his mouth was parched from moving without even a sip of water.
The guard quickly poured a cup of water and carefully brought it to Jeong-un's lips, supporting him as he did.
Jeong-un seized the cup and gulped it down at once.
"Young master, are you all right? Why did you suddenly collapse?"
Jeong-un set the cup down and glanced at the guard.
"......"
At a glance, the guard had a well-trained body and a sword hanging at his waist.
Surprised by Jeong-un's silent gaze, the guard looked flustered.
"W-was there an incident? Please tell me."
"... A sword."
"Pardon?"
The guard reflexively repeated, stunned by the unexpected word.
"A sword, you mean?"
"... Yes."
"Why the sword all of a sudden...?"
He failed to hide his astonishment.
The guard had served Jeong-un for quite some time.
He also knew Jeong-un's character very well.
Though Jeong-un was unaware, within the household he had his own notorious nickname.
Lazy Ghost.
In the family, Jeong-un was like a ghost—so indolent that he rarely left his room.
Yet now, Jeong-un had suddenly spoken of a "sword".
It wouldn't be strange for a martial clan descendant to mention swords.
But for a boy who had barely set foot outside in years, it was surely unexpected.
"I want to hold a sword."
"P-pardon?"
"No, I... I must try swinging a sword."
"...!"
The guard's face twisted in shock.
He didn't even consider that showing such a reaction might be impolite.
"So... are you saying you wish to train in swordsmanship?"
"Yes."
Jeong-un nodded.
The guard barely held himself back from asking again.
No matter how much he might seem a lazy ghost, Jeong-un was still blood of the household—the child of the master he served.
The guard bowed his head slightly as he answered, though he couldn't conceal the tremor in his voice.
"... I-I will to the family head."
"......"
Jeong-un glanced at the guard's sword-belt as he watched him lower his head.
Come to think of it, he needed the family head's permission to be given a real sword.
His siblings, too, had received their swords as children, only after having undergone considerable training.
It meant he wouldn't be able to receive a sword immediately.
"I'll go to the training hall."
"Pardon?"
The guard looked up, eyes wide.
"I'll at least try a wooden sword. That should be allowed, right?"
"Well..."
Before the guard could even finish his reply, Jeong-un dusted himself off and stood.
Then he walked out of the room.
"......"
The guard stared blankly after him, then quickly got up to follow.