Loki swept the chamber, mapping every seam and alcove with his eyes.
'Is there any way to brute-force this?'
While he was still testing angles, Haeun stepped forward, head tipping slightly.
"Pattern lock," she murmured. Her fingers hovered over the three-stone rings.
"Careful," Loki warned. "Get it wrong and we might trigger something."
"It's ok, this is not that hard," she said with confidence, as if she had already solved it.
"Outer ring turns counter to inner; middle is the carrier." She rotated the symbols—new moon to quarter, quarter to gibbous, gibbous to full—keeping a running time in her head. Each click drew a soft answer from the room: the sconces dimmed, then brightened, like breath going in and out.
Loki watched her hands the whole time.
He noticed the steady rhythm of her movements and how sure she was. She never looked down to double-check, just listened to the clicks in the stone and kept count in her head. The usual itch to step in, force the door, or use brute force faded. In its place, a simple respect took hold.
On the final turn, the chamber seemed to hold its breath; inside the stone a mechanism seated with a quiet click, and the far door rumbled upward.
Only then did Loki let out a breath—not because he was relieved, but because he recognized what he'd just seen: a different kind of clean, a professional finish.
"That was… impressive," he answered, already moving to the threshold and giving her the lane.
"Thank you," Haeun replied, a small, amused smile touching her mouth as she fell in beside him.
They moved on.
Once, a vine-wrapped thing uncoiled from a ceiling seam and dropped like a noose. Haeun's wrist flicked and a dart of violet-rimmed darkness punched it off the ceiling before it could tighten. Twice, little stone imps crawled out of fist-sized holes and spat pebbles. Loki smashed them with three quick hits without even slowing.
But most of the time, the hallways were empty. Too empty.
"If a dungeon isn't spending its traps and monsters on you now," he said after the third long corridor without an ambush, " it's saving the pain for the boss."
"You think the boss might be high-level?" Haeun asked.
"Let's hope its level is the only problem," he said, a dull weight settling under his ribs.
The next hallway cut down, the air gets noticeably colder, making everything feel tighter and more dangerous.
They edged around a sunken flagstone—one step on it and a blade would've swung across the hall. A heartbeat later, a spiked log burst from a hidden track at waist height. There was no space to dodge. Loki turned his shoulder into it and took the hit. "Ugh."
The log slammed into his gear, spikes scraping as he shoved it aside—better his armor than her ribs.
Although his gear was protecting him, it was not fully painproof. He did feel the pain, and his health went somewhat down too.
Haeun said nothing, but she saw everything. He didn't lecture; he didn't show off. He simply occupied the space where danger wanted her to stand. Somehow, that felt more… real than any promise of safety. For a moment, it reminded her of being a child, held and guided through a crowd, but the memory faded fast. She didn't overthink it; she just let the feeling go.
The corridor opened into a vast entry hall. An enormous gate filled the far wall—thick iron frames sunk deep into dark stone. On the floor before it, a pale circle of inlaid stone and metal marked the ground like a ritual compass, its surface scuffed smooth by long use.
"We can take a breather here," Loki said after a quick scan.
He went to a wall and sat down. One vial, then another—efficient motions, as if practiced many a time. With the second swallow, a thin line of tension eased from his shoulders.
Haeun took the base of a cracked statue and watched him in profile, the way you watch a machine you respect. A steady thought ticked behind her eyes. She'd watched close-protection teams move like that on live ranges with Minjoo. No waste, no show, everything he does has a function.
It shouldn't have felt calming.
But...It did.
'I don't understand him'
'On the one hand, he pushed people away—made it clear he wanted nothing to do with anyone. On the other, his actions said something else entirely.
Those two warriors he helped. That party he sold to, when he could get more TLE selling to me.'
Haeun wanted to know more—something, anything.
"You're strange," she said at last, breaking the quiet.
He looked over."Strange?"
"You try to keep people at a distance, but your body language and instincts do the opposite. It's… unusual."
Loki went still for a beat, gaze slipping past her to some place that wasn't this room.
'…Come to think of it, I started doing it again.'
He spoke before he decided to.
"That's the problem I am trying to fix. If I start caring, I go too far."
Maybe it was the first real pause he'd had after his revival; maybe it was something else. Either way, the words kept coming.
"You know Miss Hauen...I've...been betrayed before," he said, evenly. "By people I trusted like family." breath. "And it hurt a lot because I cared a lot. But then that hurt turned into anger." He continued, "I did everything in my power to care for and protect them. If you can't return the same amount of care, then a fraction of it would do. But in return, what do I get?"
'Well, it doesn't matter anymore. they will pay, whatever their reason was.'
He closed his eyes after he was done venting.
He let the silence sit.
Haeun didn't fill it. She only watched him, listening.
When his breathing leveled and the heat under his skin settled, he pushed to his feet.
"Sorry about that. Let's move."
She rose too, eyes briefly tracing his back.
At the gate, he said, almost offhand, "In hindsight, I should've let you trigger a trap or two."
Her eyes went wide at the sudden turn—then, "Pff—" She broke, laughter spilling out.
Who—pfft—who says that after a confession like that?" Haeun laughed, trying and failing to sound.
Seojin wanted to lighten the atmosphere, but even he hadn't expected this.
'So, she can laugh,' he thought, and something like a smile touched his mouth under the mask without his noticing.
Together, they set their hands to the iron.
"Ready?" Loki asked.
"Mm," Haeun answered.
They pushed.
The door protested, then relented with a thunder that ran through their bones. As they crossed the threshold, the gate fell shut behind them like a verdict.
Blue fire leapt from sconce to sconce, painting the chamber in cold light.
The room was circular, its floor scored with old grooves. Chains dangled from high beams like lines on a map. In the center stood a shape that made the light feel thinner: a towering body layered in muscle on muscle, hide thick and scarred, horns swept back like polished scythes. Steam rolled from its nostrils; its eyes burned furnace-red. It turned, and the ground seemed to tilt with its weight.
[Chainbound Minotaur (Epic), Lv. 5]
Loki's posture changed—chin down, feet set. The easy quiet sharpened to a blade.
"Haeun," he said, voice even but edged.
"If we're careless even for a second, we both will die."