The Seawave Guild creaked like an old ship drifting into a storm.
Six leadership seats.
Five shattered.
Now even the walls seemed to whisper.
People lowered their voices when I walked by.
They avoided eye contact.
Some bowed unintentionally — as if I were someone important.
As if I were someone to fear.
Risenne walked beside me, her arms crossed tightly.
Not out of anger.
Out of self-control.
She was losing the battle with herself, and she knew it.
Even the space between our shoulders felt charged, heated, dangerous.
She hated that feeling.
But she stayed close anyway.
The Sixth Leader — A Quiet One
Our target today was Keryn, Head of Internal Affairs.
A frail woman in her fifties, with thin spectacles and a voice like cold tea.
She never raised her voice.
Never caused trouble.
Never made mistakes.
Suspicious.
The guildmaster insisted Keryn was "trustworthy."
That alone made her guilty.
We walked into her office.
Books on shelves.
Scrolls compiled neatly.
Everything clean.
Too clean.
Keryn smiled softly.
"Welcome, Montig. Risenne. How may I help?"
Risenne bowed politely.
I didn't bother.
I walked to the nearest shelf and touched the spines of documents.
All organized by date.
All in perfect alignment.
But one thing was missing:
Dust.
The bottom shelves were dusty.
The top shelves dusty.
But the middle shelves — where the most important files should be — were spotless.
Used often.
Recently.
Desperately.
"Keryn," I said, "show us your weekly review reports."
"Of course."
She handed them over, smiling.
Risenne watched her carefully — her instinct sharpening again.
She was beginning to see patterns like I did.
Good.
The Missing Pages
I flipped through the reports quietly.
Keryn looked perfectly calm.
Too calm.
Then I found the inconsistency.
Page 43.
Blank.
"Keryn," I said, "why is this page empty?"
Risenne stepped closer — even without realizing she was doing it — her shoulder brushing mine for half a second before she tensed and pulled back.
The touch made something in her chest lurch.
Something she tried to suffocate.
Keryn smiled warmly.
"Just an error in copying."
I held up the document.
"You never make copying errors."
Her smile cracked.
Risenne's eyes sharpened.
"Keryn," she said quietly, "what's on the missing page?"
Silence.
Keryn's fingers trembled faintly.
Then she laughed — a tired, brittle sound.
"You already know, don't you?"
I nodded once.
"Yes."
She sat down slowly.
"Fine," she whispered. "I hid complaints."
Risenne inhaled sharply.
"You what?"
Keryn looked ashamed.
"Merchants… clerks… travelers… they filed reports about corruption, delays, unfair fees… If I passed them on, the guildmaster would ignore them. Or punish them. Or bury them."
I narrowed my eyes.
"So you buried them instead."
She nodded.
"I thought… if I protected the guild's reputation… the guild would fix itself eventually."
I closed the report.
"You didn't protect it."
She looked at me with hollow eyes.
"I know."
Risenne pressed two fingers to her temple, overwhelmed.
Keryn whispered:
"Montig… I wasn't corrupt. I was just… tired."
She wasn't lying.
And that made it worse.
The Guildmaster's Illusion
The guildmaster arrived minutes later, pulled in by Risenne.
He looked older today.
"Montig," he said, "I hope this isn't another—"
He saw Keryn's face.
His expression fell.
"Keryn… tell me this isn't true."
She lowered her head.
"I'm sorry."
The guildmaster closed his eyes.
"You were the last one I trusted."
He didn't shout.
He didn't accuse.
He didn't even sigh loudly.
He just… deflated.
"I see now," he said. "This guild was rotting far longer than I admitted."
He turned to me.
"Montig… you've exposed six leaders. Six."
"Yes," I said.
"Are there more?"
"Yes."
His fingers twitched.
Fear.
Not of the corruption.
Of me.
Risenne noticed.
Her jaw tensed — not at me, but at the guildmaster's reaction.
She stepped slightly closer to me.
Not protective of the guild.
Protective of me.
The guildmaster glanced at her, eyebrows raised.
A silent thought hung between them:
Why is she standing so close to him?
Risenne turned away, cheeks stiffening.
She hated that he noticed.
Keryn's Fall
Guards arrived.
Keryn didn't resist.
She walked quietly, head bowed, whispering:
"I thought I was helping… I really did…"
The guildmaster didn't reply.
He looked at me instead.
Not angry.
Not grateful.
Just… wary.
Deeply wary.
"Montig," he said quietly, "your eyes miss nothing."
He paused.
"Not even things I'd rather stay unseen."
His gaze sharpened.
"What exactly are you planning?"
I smiled.
"A better guild."
He didn't believe that.
I wouldn't have believed it either.
The Hallway — Breaking Point
After Keryn was taken away, Risenne and I walked in silence.
A long silence.
Finally, she spoke.
Her voice low.
Raw.
Unsteady.
"Montig… why don't these things bother you?"
"Because they're necessary."
"You don't feel anything? Not even a little?"
"No."
She clenched her fists.
"You scare me."
"I know."
"Then why don't you stop?"
"Do you want me to?"
She stopped walking.
Dead still.
I stepped in front of her.
Close.
Closer than before.
Her heartbeat stuttered.
"…Montig," she whispered, "I'm six years older."
"You keep saying that," I murmured, "like it's a shield."
"It is."
"It isn't."
Her eyes flicked up to mine.
Fear.
Desire.
Confusion.
Want.
Restraint.
"I don't know what to do with you," she whispered.
"You don't have to do anything," I said. "Just stop pretending you don't feel anything."
She sucked in a sharp breath.
"I can't—"
"Yes," I said softly. "You can."
Her fingers curled helplessly.
She turned away, pressing a hand against the wall.
"Montig… this shouldn't be happening."
"But it is."
"And I don't know how to stop it."
I stepped back.
Just enough space for her to breathe.
Not enough space to escape.
"We'll talk when you're ready," I said quietly.
She didn't turn back.
But her voice trembled.
"…I don't know if I'll ever be ready."
She was almost there.
Almost.
Confession was coming.