Risenne was a strong woman — both emotionally and physically.
A silver-badge officer who stood straighter than most men, who spoke sharper than most captains, and who never bowed to pressure.
But strength didn't save her from everything.
Because behind that armor, she was still a maiden tasting her first love without even wanting to.
Even for someone like Risenne, the realization hit too loudly:
She was six years older than Montig.
Six years.
An age gap that shouldn't matter…
but did.
It sat in her mind like a pebble in a boot — tiny, but impossible to ignore.
She didn't want to think about it.
She didn't want to acknowledge the way her gaze lingered half a second longer when Montig spoke.
She didn't want to admit she noticed his confidence, his precision, his terrifying calmness.
She especially didn't want to admit that every time he walked into danger, her heartbeat flickered.
But the truth was a persistent beast.
And Risenne could feel it breathing down her neck.
She pushed it away — hard.
But it kept coming back.
The Third Head on the Board
I didn't know any of that, of course.
I only knew that today's target was the next guild leader:
The Head of Warehouse Mammoths — Brugo.
A massive man with a voice like thunder and a brain like a wet rock.
His warehouse system was a disaster:
Overstored goods
Underreported shipments
Missing crates
Suspicious weight differences
And a tendency to yell his way out of accountability
Perfect prey.
Risenne walked beside me, silent but tense.
Her eyes kept flicking toward me and darting away.
Not like before — not suspicion.
More like someone trying to hide a thought they didn't like having.
I glanced at her.
She immediately looked forward, jaw tight.
I smirked internally.
She definitely had something on her mind.
Warehouse Mammoths Central
The warehouse was massive — a stone giant filled with crates, dust, and the smell of overworked laborers.
Brugo stood on a balcony, shouting commands.
"MOVE THAT CRATE!"
"NOT THERE, YOU IDIOT!"
"WHO MISPLACED THE INVOICE!?"
Risenne winced slightly.
"Brugo hasn't changed."
"You know him well?" I asked.
She hesitated.
"…Well enough."
There was something unspoken in her tone.
A history?
A rivalry?
A grudge?
Interesting.
I walked forward.
"Brugo!" Risenne called.
He turned, saw her, and his entire expression softened.
"Oh— Risenne! Didn't expect you today."
She muttered, "Unfortunately."
He laughed — loudly, obnoxiously.
Then he noticed me.
"And who's this brat?"
"Observer," Risenne said.
Brugo snorted. "We don't need an observer. My warehouse runs like a machine."
I glanced at the floor.
A broken crate.
Spilled spice powder.
Two missing ledger papers under a barrel.
Workers moving in the wrong sequence.
Weight markers rubbed off.
A machine?
Sure.
A machine made of garbage.
The Knife of Truth
I walked past Brugo without asking permission and picked up a piece of broken crate.
"This fell," I said.
Brugo glared. "So what?"
"It fell because the crate below was mislabeled."
I tossed the wood aside and pointed at a stack.
"That crate is in the wrong row."
He scoffed. "No it's not."
"Yes it is," I said calmly. "It's marked for the spice sector, but your spice sector is on the opposite side."
Risenne blinked.
Brugo's face twisted.
"That's one crate, kid."
"No," I replied, pointing around. "That's nine crates. Three on the floor. Five with missing inventory tags. Two that have been reweighed three times today."
Brugo froze.
Risenne's eyebrows rose in genuine surprise.
"How do you always see that?" she whispered.
"I look," I said simply.
She stared at me longer than she meant to.
Looked away quickly.
Then looked again.
She was slipping.
The Warehouse Cracks
I began walking through the warehouse, pointing out issues:
"This row's inventory numbers don't match yesterday's logs."
"That crate is heavier than its label says."
"This tally sheet was rewritten three times — by three different people."
"This entire section has dust patterns inconsistent with standard movement. Meaning it hasn't been touched for weeks — despite being marked 'active.'"
Workers stared at me like I was a ghost.
Brugo's face turned red, then white, then green.
Risenne stayed beside me, watching quietly… but her silence felt different today.
Heavier.
More aware.
She finally understood how I moved.
How I hunted.
How I dismantled systems one observation at a time.
And she wasn't just observing me anymore.
She was… following.
Not physically.
Mentally.
Matching my thinking.
Anticipating my next point.
Trying to understand the shape of my mind.
The Moment Brugo Fell
I pointed to the far end of the warehouse.
Two crates stacked wrong.
Labels inverted.
Seals broken and reattached with wax that didn't match guild standards.
Brugo swallowed.
"Montig… stop."
"Why?" I asked.
He stepped forward.
"Because—"
Then he realized.
He had no explanation.
None that wouldn't expose him.
Risenne's voice cut the silence:
"Brugo. Why are there non-guild seals on guild property?"
Brugo broke.
He didn't shout.
He didn't fight.
He just… collapsed onto a crate, face in hands.
"I— I needed money," he muttered. "The fees— the debts— I didn't mean for it to get this big—"
Risenne sighed heavily.
"Brugo…"
It wasn't anger.
It wasn't disappointment.
It was sadness.
Old sadness.
They'd known each other longer than I thought.
Brugo looked up at her with a helpless smile.
"You always were too sharp, Risenne."
She pressed her lips together.
I stepped forward.
"Guards will ask you who helped hide the seals. You should answer honestly."
Brugo nodded weakly.
I turned away.
Risenne stared at me.
Not in shock this time.
In something deeper.
A mixture of:
Responsibility.
Fear.
Recognition.
Respect.
And a faint, unwanted pull toward me.
She hated it.
But she felt it.
Outside the Warehouse
We walked out instead of watching Brugo get hauled away.
Risenne didn't speak at first.
Then she asked quietly:
"Montig… do you enjoy breaking people?"
I shook my head.
"No."
"Then why do it so easily?"
"Because systems only change when the weak points are exposed."
She slowed.
"Then what happens when you become a weak point?"
I turned to her.
"Won't you protect me?"
Her breath hitched — subtle, tiny, but real.
She looked away immediately.
"I'm not responsible for you."
"Then why did you step in twice today when Brugo moved toward me?"
She stiffened.
"…Instinct."
"No," I said softly. "It wasn't."
She swallowed.
Quiet.
Troubled.
Aware.
But she didn't deny it.
And she didn't walk away.
She walked beside me the entire way back.
Close.
Too close.
Closer than either of us admitted.