The morning sun had barely risen high enough to warm the stone steps of the Mercenary Alliance when Gavrilo returned.
The building stood tall and austere—pillars of pale granite lined with dark iron inlays, banners of the Alliance crest hanging motionless in the still air. The insignia embroidered in silver thread glinted faintly under the light, as though the institution itself possessed awareness.
He ascended the wide staircase slowly.
Each step echoed.
Not loudly.
But clearly enough that the two guards stationed at the entrance straightened instinctively.
Their eyes dropped to the crimson coin pinned to his coat.
Recognition struck before words did.
Both guards bowed deeply.
"Vice Guild Master."
The title settled into the air like a verdict.
Gavrilo did not pause.
He inclined his head slightly and continued inside.
The interior hall was unusually quiet. It was a partial holiday—most personnel absent. Only a few lanterns were lit despite daylight filtering through the high-arched windows.
Footsteps carried softly against marble flooring.
At the reception desk—
She was there.
Lyris.
Her long brown hair was tied loosely behind her back, strands escaping to frame her face. She wore the Alliance's standard office attire—dark navy vest over a crisp white blouse, sleeves rolled to her elbows as if she had been working longer than required.
Two other clerks worked at distant desks, whispering quietly over ledgers.
Lyris did not notice him immediately.
She was organizing documents.
He approached without haste.
"Has someone delivered a list for me?"
His voice was calm.
Measured.
She turned slightly at the sound.
And froze.
Her eyes moved from his face—
To the red coin resting against his chest.
For a moment she said nothing.
Her lips parted slightly.
"What list?" she asked, almost distracted. "Why would someone leave a list for—"
He lifted the coin gently between two fingers.
Not arrogantly.
Just enough for clarity.
The crimson surface caught the light.
Her eyes widened.
"Don't tell me…"
She stepped out from behind the desk instinctively.
"You're the top performer of the hunting competition?"
He tilted his head faintly.
"And if I say I am?"
That was enough.
She moved without thinking.
Two quick steps.
And then—
She threw her arms around him.
It was not calculated.
Not restrained.
Not office-appropriate.
It was pure reaction.
He did not push her away.
But he did not embrace her either.
His arms remained loosely at his sides.
He felt the warmth of her cheek against his chest.
Her fingers gripping the fabric of his coat tightly.
He could feel the tremor in her breath.
It lasted only seconds.
Then realization struck her like cold water.
She pulled back abruptly.
Her face flushed.
"I—I'm sorry."
She stepped back, smoothing her hair, regaining composure.
The other two clerks pretended not to stare.
She cleared her throat.
"Congratulations… Vice Guild Master."
The title sounded different from her lips.
Quieter.
Weighted.
She turned toward a stack of papers quickly, as if hiding her expression behind work.
"Yes, there was a list delivered earlier," she said, voice slightly steadier now.
She searched through documents with deliberate slowness.
But her mind was elsewhere.
Three days.
Three days.
From recruit—
To captain—
To vice guild master.
She handed him the sealed list at last.
Her fingers brushed his briefly.
"You really climbed the ladder very fast," she said softly.
There was admiration in her tone.
But something else too.
Something fragile.
"Now you are Vice Guild Master."
She let out a faint, breathless laugh.
"Just three days ago you were asking me where orientation would take place."
Her gaze lowered momentarily.
"I feel like we lived decades together in those three days."
He remained silent.
She continued, quieter.
"I watched your rise… from a mere recruit… to this."
Her hand drifted unconsciously to the back of her neck, rubbing it lightly.
"And here I am."
She smiled.
But the smile did not reach her eyes.
"Still a receptionist."
There was no bitterness in her voice.
Only a shadow.
She had imagined things.
Not foolish fantasies.
Small ones.
Practical ones.
When he first spoke to her—asking about orientation, teasing lightly, offering snacks—she had imagined a future that felt within reach.
He would join the Alliance.
Become a member of Alliance.
Lead a leader of a sqaurd and carry Alliance missions.
He would pass by this desk of for mission reports and repoting documents.
He would lean against the counter and ask about her health.
Complain about paperwork.
Invite her for dinner when missions ended.
She would complain about his arrogance.
They would argue lightly.
Laugh.
It was simple.
Grounded.
Possible.
When she heard he topped Phase Three and became a captain—
Her first dream cracked.
But she rebuilt it.
Captain is fine.
He will still visit.
He will still come through this hall.
She adjusted the dream.
Made it flexible.
But when she heard he topped among the top ten—
Her chest tightened in a way she hated herself for.
She had prayed—just briefly—that it wouldn't be him.
It was wrong.
She knew it was wrong.
But she feared distance more than she desired his glory.
If he rose too high—
He would no longer stand at her counter.
He would walk past it.
With guards bowing.
With officers waiting.
With doors opening before him.
And she would remain—
Behind the desk.
Watching.
And now—
The red coin confirmed it.
The symbol gleamed between them like a wall.
She forced her smile again.
"I guess… you won't be coming here often now."
He studied her quietly.
She looked up briefly, searching his expression.
There was no arrogance in his face.
No pride.
Just distance.
Measured.
Intentional.
She swallowed.
"I'm happy for you," she said quickly, before silence stretched too long.
"Really."
He inclined his head slightly.
"Thank you."
Two simple words.
Nothing more.
The space between them felt larger now.
Though they stood only a step apart.
She clasped her hands lightly behind her back.
"You know," she added, attempting lightness, "if you choose a guild, they'll probably relocate you immediately."
She tried to sound casual.
But the tremor returned.
He broke the seal of the list calmly and scanned the contents.
Names of guilds.
Vacancies.
Strategic positions.
Opportunities.
Influence.
Power.
Her gaze lingered on his profile.
The white-black strands of hair near his temples.
The calm in his eyes.
He belongs to that world now.
Not this desk.
Not this quiet hall.
He folded the list neatly.
"I will review the options," he said.
Her fingers tightened slightly.
"Of course."
There were things she wanted to ask.
Will you still come by?
Will you still take me for coffee?
Will you still… look at me the same?
But none of those questions belonged to a receptionist addressing a Vice Guild Master.
So she swallowed them.
The coin gleamed faintly again as he turned slightly.
"Take care of your health," he said calmly.
The same words he had once said when offering snacks.
But they sounded different now.
More distant.
More formal.
She nodded.
"You too."
He stepped away from the desk.
Guards near the staircase straightened once more.
She watched him ascend.
Each step increasing the distance.
He did not look back.
She did not call his name.
When he disappeared beyond the upper corridor—
The hall felt quieter than before.
She rested her hands on the counter slowly.
Her smile faded.
Not entirely.
Just enough.
She understood something now.
Some people did not climb ladders.
They leapt.
And when they leapt—
The gap they left behind could not be bridged with dreams.
She inhaled slowly.
Then exhaled.
She would not resent him.
She would not curse his rise.
But she would adjust.
Just like before.
Only—
This time—
There was no higher dream to rebuild.
Only acceptance.
The red coin had not only elevated him.
It had drawn a line.
And she stood on the other side of it.
Watching.