In the morning, the Seawave Guild looked the same on the outside.
Merchants shouting.
Guards yawning.
Clerks running around like headless chickens.
But inside?
Inside, cracks were spreading everywhere.
Tiny cracks.
Invisible ones.
The kind that looked harmless until the whole wall collapses in one loud scream.
And I was the one tapping those cracks with a hammer.
But now, after the system's one rare, smug message last chapter, I had a new target:
The guild's income.
Not the expenses.
Not the meetings.
Not the departments.
The money that kept this bloated ship floating.
If I could disrupt that flow—even a little—
the entire guild would start drowning.
The First Thread to Pull
The guild made money from:
membership fees
trade taxes
shipping cuts
warehouse rentals
dispute settlements
transaction commissions
certification stamps
Seven streams.
Seven arteries.
I didn't need to cut all of them.
Just one.
One artery bleeding is enough to send a heartbeat into panic.
So I studied the papers carefully.
And then I found it:
The Certification Desk.
Merchants needed a stamped approval for half their products.
No stamp = no trade.
This desk brought in a steady river of coins every single day.
But the certification crew?
Lazy.
Sloppy.
And bribable.
They stamped everything without checking anything.
Which meant…
If I interfered with the certification flow, the guild would feel it instantly.
Perfect.
The Fake Queue Problem
I didn't sabotage the stamp.
I didn't forge approvals.
I didn't even touch the documents.
All I did was…
organize the certification line.
Yes.
That's it.
I walked to the certification room and said loudly:
"Attention! A new rule from upper management! All merchants must form a single line based on product type!"
The clerks blinked.
"Uh… who are you?"
"Trade Analysis Department," I said, flashing my badge. "Orders from above."
"From who?"
"From someone above you."
That shut them up.
Merchants grumbled but obeyed.
They formed a line.
A single, long, snake-like line.
A line that stretched out the door.
A line that moved slower than death.
Because instead of multiple clerks stamping in parallel…
Everyone was now waiting for a single queue.
Within an hour:
People shouted
A merchant cried
Someone tried to bribe the line
Clerks panicked
A supervisor fainted
And the certification income?
Slowed to a pathetic drip.
Just because the line existed.
Not my fault.
Not my rule.
Just a "miscommunication."
Heh.
The Second Thread
After lunch, I targeted the second artery:
Dispute Settlements.
A messy, chaotic area where merchants argued and the guild charged them a fee to "resolve" fights.
Usually, this fee made good money.
But I made the process…
extremely efficient.
Whenever a merchant started complaining:
"I demand compensation for—"
I would cut in quickly:
"Case dismissed. Lack of evidence."
Or:
"Resubmit tomorrow."
Or:
"This requires three signatures, good luck finding them."
Or:
"New rule! Both parties must cool down for 24 hours."
Half were lies.
Half were half-lies.
All slowed things down.
Disputes piled up.
The fee income dropped.
And the guild officers?
Confused as hell.
"Why aren't we earning today!?"
"Who changed the procedures!?"
"Why are the lines so long!?"
"Why is everyone angry!?"
"Who authorized this!?"
I sat quietly in a corner, sipping tea like a saint.
Rumors Spread Easily
By evening, the guild was trembling.
Merchants were furious.
Clerks were flooding the hallways.
Officers were running around like someone had told them the world was ending.
And then the rumors started:
"Someone is sabotaging the guild."
"Someone internal."
"Someone clever."
"Someone invisible."
"Somebody who knows exactly what to break."
I pretended to look confused.
Concerned.
Even a little scared.
"Sabotage? Oh no… how terrible."
Inside, I was grinning like a wolf.
Because the more chaotic the guild became,
the more it relied on anyone who looked calm and useful.
And guess who looked calm and useful?
Risenne's Breaking Point
She slammed a stack of papers on my desk.
"Montig. Explain."
I blinked. "Explain what?"
"WHY ARE THERE FIFTEEN CERTIFICATION COMPLAINTS IN ONE HOUR!?"
"Maybe people are impatient."
"Impatient!?" She held the papers like she wanted to burn them. "There's a crowd forming outside the guild gates!"
"Really? Let's go see—"
"NO!" she snapped. "You're staying right here until you tell me what's going on."
I sighed dramatically.
"Risenne, if you keep shouting like that, people will think YOU caused it."
She froze.
"…Don't turn this around on me."
I leaned closer.
"I'm just saying… chaos makes people irrational. They start blaming the nearest person."
She clenched her jaw.
"You're terrifying," she whispered. "Do you know that?"
I smiled warmly.
"Aw. You're sweet."
"I'm not complimenting you!"
Sure.
Whatever helps her sleep.
A Major Moment
And then—
The system chimed.
Not the snarky tone.
Not the mocking tone.
Just a single, calm notification:
Ping.
[Major Progress Achieved]
You have slowed guild-wide income by 18%.
The beast begins to starve.]
No insults this time.
No jokes.
No sarcasm.
Just acknowledgment.
Cold and quiet.
That meant this move wasn't petty.
It was significant.
I felt a shiver run through me.
This was the first TRUE bite.
A real wound.
A wound the guild couldn't ignore.
The Seawave Guild Reacts
By nightfall, an emergency meeting was called.
Officers running.
Alarms ringing.
Lights blazing in every corridor.
"Income is down!"
"Something's wrong in the certification line!"
"We're losing money!"
"Find the cause!"
"Who started this!?"
Everyone screamed.
Everyone panicked.
Everyone pointed fingers.
But no one pointed at me.
Not the kid sitting quietly in the corner.
Not the harmless recruit.
Not the one drinking lukewarm tea with a blank expression.
The Quiet Predator
As the guild descended into chaos,
I whispered to myself:
"That's one bite."
I exhaled deeply.
"Next, I eat the middle layer."
And the guild had no idea the real monster was sitting in their own building, listening to them cry.