The day after Valden's removal, the guild was unusually quiet.
Not peaceful quiet.
Fear quiet.
The kind of silence that happens when people start realizing:
"Someone among us is extremely dangerous."
Perfect.
I walked down the corridor with calm steps, my badge hanging lightly from my coat.
Risenne followed a few steps behind — not because she had to.
Because she chose to.
She observed everyone who looked at me a second too long.
She walked where she could intercept conversations.
She slowed down when I slowed down.
Subtle.
Almost invisible.
But I noticed.
And she noticed me noticing.
Her cheeks didn't redden.
Her expression didn't change.
She simply adjusted her collar and continued walking like nothing happened.
Today's Target: The Coin Counters
My next target wasn't a loud leader.
It was a quiet one.
The Head of Coin Counting, a meticulous, numbers-loving old man named Garlon.
People trusted him because he was boring.
The biggest mistake any system can make:
Trust the quiet ones.
They always hide something.
Garlon kept the guild's financial reports clean.
Suspiciously clean.
Impossibly clean.
No system this chaotic should have perfect financial statements.
Unless someone corrected the imperfections.
Not to fix the system…
…but to hide them.
So I made my move.
The Observation Room
The guildmaster scheduled a mandatory review with Garlon, and I was invited as the "observer."
Risenne joined "for security reasons."
Translation:
She wanted to watch me again.
We walked into the review room — a stone chamber with tables stacked high with ledger books.
Garlon sat there smiling politely.
"Montig, is it? I've heard you've caused… changes."
"Just watching," I replied.
"Mm. Watching. How admirable."
His eyes were cold.
Pretending kindness.
A snake in a teacher's robe.
Good.
I loved snakes.
Let the Old Man Talk
For one hour, he explained the flawless accounting process:
"We record every coin."
"We double-verify."
"We cross-check."
"We reconcile daily."
"We never lose a single copper."
Risenne listened politely.
I listened with something closer to amusement.
When he finished, I tapped the ledger lightly.
"Beautiful," I said.
He smiled proudly.
"Your numbers," I added, "are too perfect."
His smile froze.
Risenne's gaze snapped to me — not warning, not panic.
Curiosity sharpened.
I continued:
"Even healthy systems have noise. Mistakes. Variations."
Garlon cleared his throat. "We are very disciplined here."
"Too disciplined," I said.
I slid four different reports onto the table.
"The shipping delays, the certification backlog, the faction disputes — all caused small money fluctuations. Yet none of your reports reflect these disruptions."
He flinched.
Invisible, but I saw it.
Risenne saw it too.
She shifted closer to me, intentionally or not — I couldn't tell.
Garlon forced a laugh.
"We cross-check weekly. That stabilizes the numbers."
"That's impossible," I said calmly.
Silence.
Dead still.
Then I added:
"Unless someone is manually adjusting them to hide losses."
Risenne inhaled softly.
Not shock.
Recognition.
Like she had been waiting for someone to say it out loud.
The Slip
Garlon stood up suddenly.
"We are DONE here!"
Risenne moved instantly, stepping between him and me.
Not aggressively.
Not threatening.
But with a subtle shift that said:
Don't raise your voice at him.
Not while I'm here.
Garlon stared at her, stunned.
Her hand rested lightly on her sword — not drawn, not threatening.
Just present.
I almost smiled.
But I didn't.
I waited.
The old man pointed a trembling finger at me.
"You're accusing me of treason!"
"No," I said. "I'm accusing you of math."
Risenne snorted quietly — a sound she immediately tried to hide.
Garlon exploded.
"You insolent—!"
He slammed his hand on the table, and a slip of paper fluttered out from his sleeve.
A number list.
A correction sheet.
Out of sequence.
Not recorded.
Not logged.
Forbidden.
The three of us stared at it.
Risenne's eyes widened just a fraction.
Garlon dove for it.
I stepped on it first.
His hand froze inches from my boot.
Risenne said softly:
"…You're done."
He looked up at her.
Then at me.
He saw the trap closing.
And tried to break away.
He ran toward the door.
Risenne moved like steel and lightning.
She didn't strike him.
She didn't draw her sword.
She simply blocked the doorway with her arm.
Her stance said:
He's not getting past.
Not while I stand here.
Garlon collapsed in defeat.
The Guildmaster Arrives Again
Minutes later, guards dragged Garlon away.
The guildmaster entered slowly, sighing.
"Montig," he said, rubbing his temple. "Did you destabilize another department?"
I bowed slightly.
"Inadvertently."
Risenne whispered, "Liar," under her breath.
But she didn't sound annoyed.
More like she admired the audacity.
The guildmaster leafed through the evidence.
"Well… this is a serious offense. Financial alteration. Hiding losses. Manipulating guild books."
He closed the ledger.
"One seat removed," he said.
Two down.
Five left.
Risenne exhaled beside me.
Something warm flickered in her eyes when she looked at me.
Not affection.
Not admiration.
Interest.
Deeper than before.
After the Meeting
Risenne and I walked down the hallway.
She didn't pretend to inspect surroundings today.
She walked beside me because she wanted to.
Finally, she spoke.
"You're targeting leaders."
"Yes."
"You're dismantling the guild from the top."
"Yes."
"You're not hiding it well."
"I'm not trying to."
She blinked.
"…Why?"
I stopped.
She stopped too.
I looked at her quietly for a moment.
She didn't look away.
Not this time.
Her eyes stayed locked on mine, steady, searching.
"Because," I said, "they need to fall."
Her breath caught just slightly.
She didn't agree.
She didn't argue.
She just stared at me like she was seeing a truth she wasn't ready to accept — but couldn't ignore.
Finally, she said:
"Montig… you're dangerous."
I turned and walked ahead.
She followed.
Closer.
Closer than yesterday.
And for the first time, she didn't bother to hide it.