Minho

Evening in the Glade always arrived with a special note of unease. The heavy stone doors of the Labyrinth creaked shut, cutting the boys off from the unknown humming in the darkness, and the usual, intense work began in the File Room. Minho, the lead runner, stood at an oak table covered with sector sketches; his dark hair glistened with sweat, his gaze focused on the freshly drawn plans. Nearby, the boys, exhausted from the day's cross-country run, huddled together, preparing plans for tomorrow.
Miya leaned against the wall, tightening the laces of her protectors. When she entered the Glade through the Lift, no one thought she'd become a runner. But Minho recognized her stubbornness and determination, trained her, and from then on, never let her into the Labyrinth without him. They became one: they always had each other's backs, knowing that in the tight stone corridors, trust was more important than any weapon.
"We're leaving at dawn tomorrow. We're sweeping Sector Four before the mechanisms start shifting. I'll take the team and Miya, and we'll take the central route," Minho announced.
One of the runners sighed heavily and crossed his arms in displeasure: "Minho, her again? Why take that girl? She's just getting in the way, you have to keep an eye on her!"
Silence fell over the File Room. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Everyone knew how hot-tempered the lead runner could be when anyone questioned his decisions. Minho slowly lowered his hands to the table and fell silent. The seconds dragged on endlessly. When everyone froze, he raised his head, his eyes filled with icy confidence.
He spoke quietly, but so clearly that every word echoed off the wooden walls: “There’s no way without her. There’s no point without her.”
There was no sound in the room. No one dared object—the answer was not just a curatorial command, but absolute loyalty. Minho calmly walked past the boys who had parted, approached Mia, and the sternness on his face disappeared, giving way to a familiar, slightly cheeky, yet infinitely warm smile, which he saved only for her.
– Ready for tomorrow, runner?