The morning after the faction war began, the Seawave Guild looked like a battlefield without corpses.
Officers whispered in corners.
Merchants held emergency huddles.
Guards double-checked patrols for no reason.
Clerks looked like they'd lost three years of life in one night.
And me?
I walked through the chaos with a cup of stolen tea.
This place was becoming home.
Risenne appeared beside me without warning.
"You're enjoying this too much."
I shrugged. "I like studying ecosystems."
"This is not a forest," she muttered.
"It is," I replied. "Just louder."
She sighed. "You're impossible."
But she didn't walk away.
She stayed.
That was new.
Normally, she interrogated me and vanished.
Today she walked with me through the hall as if she had business here.
Or with me.
Her steps matched mine.
Her arms crossed, but her body angled slightly toward me.
Not enough for a normal person to notice.
Enough for me to.
I hid my smile.
She was watching closer now.
Not suspiciously.
Something else.
The Leadership Board
The guildmaster summoned me to the top-floor council room.
Seven seats.
Seven department heads.
All glaring at one another like predators forced to share a cage.
When I entered, they barely noticed me.
Perfect.
The guildmaster nodded. "Montig. Observe."
Observe?
Oh, I was going to do much more than that.
But for now, I simply took a spot against the wall beside Risenne.
She didn't stand near anyone else.
Interesting.
The Head of Shipping Cracks
The meeting erupted immediately.
"Spice Wing is violating agreements!"
"Iron Route manipulated the market!"
"Warehouse Mammoths are hoarding space!"
"Coin Counters changed tax rates!"
"Shipping Circle delayed unloading again!"
The guildmaster massaged his forehead. "Children… please."
I watched the Head of Shipping carefully.
He was the loudest.
The first to point fingers.
The quickest to anger.
But more importantly:
His department depended heavily on the certification desk — the one I'd sabotaged with just a little "queue restructuring."
And his numbers were the most damaged yesterday.
His voice shook.
Beads of sweat on his forehead.
A man used to control… realizing he was losing it.
Beautiful.
The guildmaster turned to him.
"Why is Shipping Circle's revenue down sixteen percent?"
The man stuttered. "W-We're being sabotaged! Someone—someone internally—"
The guildmaster leaned forward.
"Do you have evidence?"
Silence.
Everyone stared.
Risenne glanced at me briefly.
Her eyes lingered a fraction too long.
Not a full second.
Just half.
Just enough to acknowledge:
She knew I did this.
She knew I caused this.
And she still stood beside me.
Her curiosity was becoming something sharper.
Montig's First Push
I raised my hand slightly.
"Permission to speak?"
The guildmaster nodded. "Go ahead."
I stepped forward, eyes lowered, voice calm.
"In the past two days, I noticed something."
Everyone stared.
Except Risenne.
She didn't look shocked.
She looked… expectant.
"Shipping records," I continued. "Many reports were rushed. Some clerks acted under pressure. Mistakes around the certification room likely caused delays."
The Head of Shipping scoffed. "Are you accusing my clerks!?"
"No," I said softly. "I'm saying your subordinates are overworked and unsupported."
Murmurs.
He blinked. "What?"
"You're trying to control too much alone," I said. "Your managers don't trust your orders. Your communication lines are messy. And your team can't follow your pace."
The guildmaster raised a brow.
The other heads exchanged whispers.
Risenne's lips twitched — not in amusement.
In recognition.
Of truth.
I continued.
"If your department cannot stabilize its own workflow, all allied factions suffer. That's why everyone blames each other."
I folded my hands.
"I believe the problem starts with leadership."
Dead silence.
The Head of Shipping turned pale.
"Y-You— How dare—!?"
I bowed slightly.
"Just observing."
The guildmaster whispered, "Brutal… but accurate."
Risenne shifted beside me, eyes fixed on my profile.
Not cold.
Not angry.
Analytical.
Measuring.
Like she was beginning to see something more than a chaotic recruit with tea addiction.
The First Fall
By the end of the meeting:
The Head of Shipping was removed temporarily.
His deputy was put under observation.
A restructuring order was issued.
And a small team was formed to analyze the department's failures.
The guildmaster said:
"Montig will assist as external observer."
Gasps.
Risenne didn't gasp.
Instead, she tilted her head slightly and whispered:
"Of course you will."
Her tone wasn't annoyed.
Or sarcastic.
It was… resigned.
Like she accepted this outcome long before the guildmaster said it.
And she didn't step away from me.
In the Hallway
As we left the council chamber, Risenne walked with me again.
No reason.
No assignment.
Just… walked.
"You didn't have to go that hard," she said quietly.
"He was incompetent," I replied.
"I know," she said. "But most people wouldn't say it to his face."
"He needed someone to."
She glanced up at me — barely — before looking away.
"Your confidence is… unsettling."
"That's a compliment."
"It's not."
"But it is," I said.
She exhaled through her nose.
Then, softer:
"…You're different from what I thought."
I paused.
"What did you think?"
She didn't answer immediately.
Then she said:
"A troublemaker."
"And now?"
She turned her face forward again.
"A problem," she whispered.
The way she said it…
Not hostile.
Not fearful.
Almost like she meant:
A problem I can't stop watching.
But she'd never admit that.
Not yet.
A Major Shift
That night, as I finished reorganizing the Shipping Circle's disaster files, the system chimed once:
Ping.
[Major Milestone: Leadership Breach]
One seat destabilized.
Your influence enters the upper ranks.]
No mockery.
No sarcasm.
Just acknowledgment.
And that meant one thing:
Phase Three had begun.