The Guardian loomed before us, radiating an ancient power that seemed to press down on our very souls. It wasn't just a monster—it was something far more dangerous, something that could crush us without even trying. The tension in the room was suffocating, but beneath it, I felt an undercurrent I couldn't explain.
I glanced at Sun-ho. He stood tall, sword ready, his eyes locked on the Guardian. But something wasn't right. His usual confidence, the sharp decisiveness that made him our leader, was gone. His grip on his sword was too tight, his knuckles pale, and there was a flicker of doubt in his gaze.
"Sun-ho?" I said, keeping my voice as steady as I could despite the pounding in my chest.
He didn't respond immediately. His eyes stayed on the Guardian as it circled us, its clawed hands scraping against the stone. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost hesitant.
"I…" He hesitated, something uncharacteristic for him. "This isn't right."
His words sent a chill through me. This wasn't like Sun-ho. I opened my mouth to press him further, but Ji-hye beat me to it, her voice sharp with urgency.
"Sun-ho, we need to act now! That thing isn't waiting for us to decide. If we don't fight back, we're dead!"
He turned to her, and for a moment, he looked like the strong, unyielding leader we all trusted. But then, just as quickly, his expression faltered, revealing something else—fear, and maybe even guilt.
"I know," he said quietly, his voice almost breaking. "But I can't—"
He stopped himself, his gaze flickering to each of us. It was like he was searching for something, and in that moment, I realized he wasn't just scared of the Guardian. There was more to this. He was hiding something.
I stepped forward, ignoring the growing sense of dread in my chest. "Sun-ho, what's going on? What aren't you telling us?"
He didn't answer right away, and I thought for a second he might brush me off. But then, with a heavy sigh, he lowered his sword. The blade scraped against the stone floor with an unsettling screech.
"I've been here before," he admitted, his voice tight. "This dungeon, this Guardian—it's not just a monster. It's part of a test."
"A test?" Ji-hye repeated, her disbelief evident. "A test for what?"
Sun-ho glanced at the ground, his jaw tight. When he looked up again, his eyes locked onto mine. There was something in his expression—an emotion I couldn't quite name, but it made my stomach churn.
"A test for me," he said. "For my role in all of this."
The room felt even colder, the weight of his words settling over us like a thick fog. My mind raced to make sense of what he was saying. A test? What was he talking about?
"You've been here before," I repeated slowly, struggling to piece it together. "Why didn't you tell us? Why keep it a secret?"
He looked away, his jaw clenching. "Because if I told you, you wouldn't have come. You wouldn't have followed me."
Ji-hye stepped closer, her voice soft but firm. "Sun-ho, this doesn't make sense. What test? What role? This is just a dungeon, and that's just a monster. We need to focus on surviving."
But Sun-ho shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "You don't understand. This isn't just about surviving. It never was."
His words hung in the air, heavy and foreboding. There was clearly more to this dungeon, to Sun-ho, than he had ever let on. But now, with the Guardian closing in, we didn't have time to unravel the mystery.
"Sun-ho," I said firmly, trying to pull him back to the moment. "Whatever this is, whatever you're hiding—we need you. If you know something, you have to tell us. Now."
For a moment, he didn't move. His eyes darted to the Guardian, which was watching us with cold, calculated intent. But then, something shifted in him. His shoulders straightened, and the hesitation in his expression faded.
"You're right," he said, his voice steady now. "This isn't just about the Guardian. It's about me. But I can't do this alone—not anymore."
He paused, as if searching for the right words. "This dungeon—it's not random. It's here to test me, to see if I'm ready. Ready for what comes next."
"Next?" Ji-hye asked, suspicion creeping into her tone. "What do you mean?"
Sun-ho's gaze hardened. "This dungeon isn't just a trial. It's tied to my past, to the truth about why I'm here—why I'm even on this team. It's not about beating the Guardian. It's about what happens after."
The Guardian growled, its claws dragging across the floor, the sound echoing like a threat.
"But first," Sun-ho said, gripping his sword again, his voice resolute, "we have to survive this."
At that moment, I realized the truth. Sun-ho wasn't just our leader. He was the key to everything, and whatever lay ahead, we'd have to face it together.