"Guild Master!"

At the sound of those words, the crowd instinctively parted, and my eyes locked onto the man descending the stairs. His brow was tightly wrinkled, his expression dark with irritation—as if he'd been dragged out of something far more important than dealing with a lunatic with a broken table leg.

But I didn't care about his mood.

There he was.

Exactly the person I'd come to meet.

There was no way a nobody like me, someone with zero connections and no impressive status, could meet the Guild Master through normal channels.

So I had created my own.

That was exactly why I'd chosen this approach.

Walking in politely, asking for an audience, or trying to negotiate?

He would've brushed me off like some bothersome kid.

But creating a disturbance—one loud enough to shake the guild's walls—was the fastest way to drag the Guild Master out himself.

And just as I expected, the man appeared at the entrance of the hall, his heavy footsteps echoing through the room.

"Who are you," he demanded, his voice deep and wary, "to be causing trouble in our establishment?"

His gaze was sharp, evaluating me, measuring the threat I posed.

If things ended here, I would look like nothing more than an impulsive lunatic who knew how to get attention.

But I wasn't done.

Not even close.

I met his cautious stare and spoke a single name—quietly, almost gently.

"…Dora."

The reaction was immediate.

His eyes widened. His shoulders stiffened.

A crack appeared in that professional calm he tried so hard to maintain.

"Don't you want to know where her pendant is?"

"How do you know that name…?"

I didn't answer. I didn't have to.

The moment the bait left my mouth, the hook was already set.

The silence stretched between us, thick and tense.

The Guild Master's jaw clenched, uncertainty flickering in his eyes as he tried to read me—who I was, what I knew, how dangerous I could be.

Then, after several long seconds…

"…Come inside," he said quietly. "We'll talk."

He took the bait in one clean bite.

Exactly as planned.

-----

The moment the Guild Master turned his back and motioned for me to follow, the bustling guild hall seemed to split in two—noise behind me, silence ahead.

I stepped after him.

The further we walked, the quieter and heavier the atmosphere became.

Past the reception.

Past the mission boards.

Past the rooms ordinary adventurers never got to see.

Finally, he opened a reinforced door and gestured for me to enter.

The office inside was nothing like the rowdy guild hall.

Neat stacks of documents, a meticulously organized desk, and walls lined with locked cabinets—each holding items that radiated faint mana.

He shut the door behind us.

Only then did he speak.

"…All right," he said, voice low and controlled. "Talk."

His eyes were locked on me.

No hostility.

Just caution—and a hint of desperation he was trying very hard to hide.

I didn't sit.

Instead, I stood there, meeting his gaze.

"You have ten seconds to tell me why you know Dora's name," he warned, voice low and dangerous. "After that, I'll decide whether you walk out of here on your own two feet."

A threat.

A predictable one.

If he actually intended to attack, he would've done so the moment I opened my mouth.

This—this was posturing. A final attempt to assert dominance.

Too bad for him.

"Shouldn't we sign a confidentiality agreement first?" I asked casually.

The Guild Master's eyebrow twitched.

"…Tch. How do you even know I have one of those…? Fine. Here."

Without breaking eye contact, he opened a drawer and pulled out a thin, rune-inscribed sheet of parchment. The moment it touched the table, faint blue symbols shimmered across its surface.

A confidentiality pact.

A single-use artifact created by the Magic Tower—pricey enough to empty a noble's purse, strict enough to make even hardened criminals sweat.

A binding contract that seals the agreed information within the parties who sign it.

Break it, and consequences follow. Painful ones.

This man wasn't normal.

To survive in back-alley circles this long, you needed more than brute force.

You needed instincts. Judgement. Restraint.

Which meant—

I had to treat him more carefully than most.

"Sign," he said.

I pressed my thumb to the paper. Runes blazed bright.

A rush of magic surged through my body, as if icy threads were weaving themselves around my ribs and spine, sealing the pact in place.

The Guild Master nodded in satisfaction.

"Good. Now our conversation stays between us." He leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowing. "So—what are your terms? You must want something from me."

"I have two conditions," I replied, meeting his gaze head-on. "First, find a location with the characteristics I'm about to describe."

Deciphering the riddle-like bookmark by myself would've taken days—maybe longer.

That's why I came here.

The information guild had eyes everywhere in the capital.

If anyone could point me in the right direction, it was them.

"And second," I continued, "I want you to provide me with Cain's Tear."

The Guild Master stiffened.

"How did you…!" He stopped mid-sentence, exhaled sharply, and waved a hand. "—No. No, never mind. For the sake of my sanity, it's better if I don't question how you know that."

I almost smiled.

That reaction told me everything—Cain's Tear was indeed here, just as I thought.

The guild master folded his arms, studying me for a moment before finally nodding.

"Both conditions are within my power to fulfill. Very well." His eyes sharpened. "Tell me more about the first condition."

"I'm looking for an old cathedral," I said. "I believe it's somewhere in Ambrosia."

"Ambrosia has dozens of abandoned cathedrals," he replied. "Most of them ruins. Do you have anything more specific?"

"'Fallen wings.' That's the only clue I have. I don't know the meaning behind it, but it's probably important."

"Cathedral… fallen wings…" he repeated, sinking into deep thought.

The room grew quiet except for the faint scratching of quills from guild members in the distance.

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