They called me "baggage boy." Not to my face, but I could hear it in the whispers and see it in their sideways glances whenever I struggled under the weight of the gear. My role was clear: carry the supplies, follow orders, and stay out of the way. If things went bad, I was the one they'd leave behind.
After the shadow wolf fight, their disdain for me was obvious. Sun-ho didn't bother to hide it.
"Keep up, Jin-woo," he snapped, barely looking back as we moved deeper into the labyrinth. "If you slow us down, I'll leave you here."
I didn't argue. My chest ached under the heavy pack, and the claw marks on my ribs throbbed with every step. But I kept going, eyes down, forcing one foot in front of the other to avoid their judging stares.
I knew my place—I was expendable. The one they'd sacrifice if it bought them more time. But I wasn't here for their respect or approval. My reasons for entering this dungeon were my own, and none of them would ever understand.
The labyrinth twisted as we pressed on. The walls shifted subtly, making the corridors feel alive. The air grew colder, heavier, and I kept catching movement in the corner of my eye—shadows where there shouldn't be any.
"Jin-woo, focus!" barked Ji-hye, the mage. She didn't look at me, her attention fixed on the rune-covered walls. "This place will eat you alive if you lose focus."
I nodded, gripping my pack tighter. The truth was, I was always focused—more than they realized. While they charged ahead full of confidence, I watched. I noticed things they missed: the faint vibrations before a trap activated, the subtle shifts in the dungeon's layout.
We reached a fork in the path—two identical corridors stretching into darkness. For the first time, the team hesitated.
"Which way?" Sun-ho asked, glancing at Ji-hye.
She frowned, running her hand along the wall. "The left path feels… wrong. The magic here is twisted."
"We don't have time for 'feelings,' Ji-hye," Sun-ho said impatiently. "We're taking the left path. It's faster."
I opened my mouth to object but stopped myself. Something about the left path felt off. The air was colder, the green light dimmer. But questioning them wasn't my place. Not yet.
The team moved into the left corridor. I followed, my instincts screaming at me to stop. The deeper we went, the colder it got, and the walls seemed to close in. The runes flickered like they were barely holding together. The dungeon wasn't just watching us—it was testing us.
"Sun-ho," I said quietly.
He turned, glaring. "What?"
I hesitated, feeling the weight of their stares. "The walls... they're different. This might be a trap."
A tense silence followed. Sun-ho narrowed his eyes, his jaw tight. "And what do you know, baggage boy?"
Ji-hye frowned, studying the walls. "He's not wrong. These runes are unstable—it could be a distortion trap."
Sun-ho looked irritated but motioned for the team to stop. "Fine. Ji-hye, stabilize it."
Ji-hye stepped forward, raising her staff. The air shimmered as she chanted, her voice steady. The runes flared and then went dark, leaving the corridor in pitch blackness.
"Trap neutralized," she said, lowering her staff. Then she glanced at me, her expression unreadable. "Good call."
Sun-ho didn't acknowledge me, but his silence was enough. I tightened my grip on the pack and kept moving.
I wasn't here to be a hero or earn their approval. But in that moment, something stirred inside me.
They thought I was just baggage. But they'd learn soon enough—I wasn't here to carry their weight. I was here to survive.