Night swallowed the district whole.
The streets were quieter than usual, like the city itself knew someone was about to commit a crime.
Not a crime-crime.
Just a "piss-off-the-powerful-people" crime.
I sat on the curb outside the bird-feed shop, staring at the possession notice the guild officers had slapped on the door earlier.
ONE DAY LEFT
One day until the shop got shut down.
One day until I got chased out.
One day until my one-week test became a joke.
The old man sat beside me, hugging his knees like someone waiting for the end.
"So…?" he asked weakly. "New plan?"
"No plan," I muttered.
He froze. "What!?"
I stood up.
"No plan," I repeated. "Not a normal one. Not a market trick. Not a sales method. I'm done trying to fix the front door."
"…What the hell does that mean?"
"It means we're breaking into the back door."
His eyes widened. "Montig, what are you—"
"Every system has a loophole," I said. "And these guild assholes are too arrogant to hide theirs."
The Crack in the Wall
I spent the whole day watching customers.
Listening to vendors.
Following guards from a distance.
Reading every sign, every notice, every price board, every street rule pasted on walls.
And then…
Something small caught my eye.
A stupid detail.
A little printed line on a notice board:
"District shops must maintain minimum sales volume OR minimum customer traffic."
Or.
Not "and."
OR.
I almost laughed.
That was the crack.
That was the tiny, stupid, arrogant line the guild never thought someone would abuse.
"Old man," I said, grinning like a madman, "your shop doesn't need to SELL anything."
He blinked. "But that's our whole problem!"
"Not anymore."
I pointed at the notice.
"You only need customer TRAFFIC. Not sales."
He stared.
Stared harder.
And then the realization hit him like a divine slap.
"You're saying… if people walk in, even if they don't buy…?"
"You stay open."
"But… that's ridiculous! That's insane! Who writes that!?"
"People who never imagined someone would weaponize foot traffic."
The old man let out a shaky laugh.
"Oh my god. Oh my GOD."
"We don't need money," I said, "we just need bodies in the shop."
He grabbed my shoulders.
"Kid… how do we get bodies in the shop!?"
I smirked.
"Oh, I already figured that out."
The Revolution of Stupidity
I stood outside and yelled:
"KIDS! COME HERE!"
Within thirty seconds, every brat in a three-street radius swarmed me like hungry rats.
The old man stared in terror. "Montig… please tell me you're not starting an army."
"I need workers," I declared boldly. "Cheap ones."
"What do we do!?" one kid squeaked.
"Easy," I said. "Every five minutes, go in the shop, shout something stupid, and leave. Then come back again."
The kids looked thrilled.
Best job they'd ever heard.
I tossed a few coins in the air like confetti.
"GO!"
Chaos erupted immediately.
Kids ran in circles, screaming:
"WOW LOOK AT THIS!"
"THIS FEED IS AMAZING!"
"HEY OLD MAN DO YOU HAVE BIRD CANDY?"
"CAN I EAT THIS?"
"NO YOU CANNOT EAT THAT—" the old man yelled.
People walking by stared, then wandered inside to see the madness.
Adults joined in after a while:
"What's going on in here?"
"Why are there twenty children?"
"Is this a festival?"
"Is something free?"
Within half an hour—
The shop was PACKED.
No sales.
But packed.
It looked like a festival inside a broom closet.
The old man's shop was drowning in traffic.
Loud traffic.
Annoying traffic.
Perfect fucking traffic.
The Guild's Reaction
A guild officer arrived soon.
The same lady from yesterday.
Sharp eyes.
Cold voice.
Smelled like trouble.
She stepped inside, looking disgusted at the crowd.
"What is happening here?" she asked.
I stepped forward.
"Just customers, ma'am."
Her eyebrow twitched.
"This shop has zero sales."
I nodded politely. "Yes."
"Then why are there so many people?"
"Because," I said, pointing at the guild's own rules posted outside, "your district notice says a shop only needs EITHER sales OR customer traffic to stay open."
Her jaw tightened.
She turned toward the shopkeeper. "Did this kid put you up to—"
"Yes," he said proudly. "And I fucking love it."
She glared at me.
"You think you're smart."
"Not really," I said. "But I can read."
Her eye twitched again.
The kids continued screaming in the background.
"IS THIS BIRD SNACK!?"
"CAN I BUY ONE GRAIN!?"
"WHAT DOES A BIRD SOUND LIKE WHEN IT FARTS!?"
The officer closed her eyes like she was resisting the urge to murder me.
Then she sighed.
And pulled the violation notice off the door.
"Fine," she muttered. "You win today."
The old man clapped so loudly he scared a pigeon off the roof.
I bowed slightly.
"Thank you for your cooperation, ma'am. Please come again soon."
She shot me a death glare and left.
The Final Step
Night fell again.
The kids went home.
The old man slumped on the floor, laughing like he'd gone insane.
And I reached into my pocket, pulling out the guild's coin pouch.
I placed it on the counter.
"Time to finish the test."
The old man blinked. "Montig… you haven't even used it."
"Not yet," I said. "But now I can."
Because now that we weren't being crushed…
Now that the shop wasn't collapsing…
Now that the guild's pressure was broken—
I could finally invest the coin pouch the way I wanted.
Not in the shop.
But in the chaos around the shop.
Something small.
Something clever.
Something only possible because I had flipped the guild's own rule on its head.
The system chimed softly.
Ping.
[Quest Complete: The First Capital]
[Reward: Entry Into Seawave Guild]
I could hear your thoughts as clearly as the night wind:
"What?
It completed?
But HOW?"
Heh.
It completed because of a subtle flaw in the test objective.
The guildmaster never said I had to increase the number of coins in the pouch.
He said:
"Multiply the capital."
Capital isn't just money.
Capital is:
attention
influence
bargaining power
traffic
the ability to reshape a district
the ability to fight back
the ability to create opportunity where none exists
And by using just a few coins to buy kids, noise, chaos, and momentum…
I multiplied all of that.
I turned one small pouch of coins into:
a shop saved
a district awakened
a forced guild retreat
a loophole exposed
leverage in the guild's eyes
and a ripple in the guild economy
I didn't multiply coins.
I multiplied impact.
And impact is capital.
That's why the quest completed.
Not because of money…
…but because I weaponized everything around the money.
A New Beginning
The next morning, I walked back into the Seawave Guild headquarters.
The guildmaster was waiting.
He smiled the moment he saw me.
"I heard you caused quite a mess, Montig."
"That's an exaggeration," I said. "It was a very organized mess."
He laughed.
"Welcome to the Seawave Guild."
And that was it.
The first victory.
The first footprint in a world trying to erase me.