Merchant Guild: Black Line Branch Manager's Office
"Ughhh, finally done..."
Nyaho slumped face-first onto her desk after wrapping up the last item on the agenda. Even for her—a top-notch operator and standout talent in the Black Line—the workload, triple her usual volume, had worn her down. It was a rare sight for Nyaho, who managed and planned every aspect of the merchant company's schedule while handling all agenda items on the spot each day.
Anyone who knew her well would mistake it for some massive crisis at the company if they heard about this. The sheer volume of documents she'd processed today was absurdly excessive.
Flap flap.
Nyaho's ears perked up sharply as she lay there. Lifting her weary head, she saw Benar closing the office door, holding a silver tray in one hand and gazing at her.
Nyaho sprang to her feet, tail swishing, and plopped down on the sofa. Benar shook her head at her superior's gaze—those crystal-clear eyes staring with burdensome intensity—and stepped forward.
"You really finished everything?"
"What do you take me for, nya! It's all done, for sure!!"
Benar stifled a chuckle inside at her boss puffing out her lips and thwacking the sofa with her fluffy tail. She set the plate of cookies and tea set from the silver tray onto the table in front of the sofa.
Nyaho dove in like she'd been waiting, crunching the cookies and stuffing them into her mouth like a squirrel.
Benar could tell from how Nyaho wasn't even savoring the taste—just shoving them in—that she was utterly exhausted.
'Can't blame her.'
Benar shook her head at the stack of documents on the desk, piled as high as Nyaho herself. It was enough to make anyone queasy just looking at it. And her boss had tackled it all solo in a single day. Impressed once more by that prowess, Benar couldn't help wondering why she'd volunteered for this mess.
Two days ago, after the guests from the castle had left.
Nyaho had suddenly ordered that she herself be named the person in charge for Territory War day. Benar had no choice but to inform Emma, the original branch manager responsible that day, of the change.
Emma, who'd been prepping for it, naturally couldn't accept it—but in the end, she had no choice.
Being in the same Merchant Association didn't make everyone equal. Sure, the scale difference between member companies was huge, but the real kicker was Nyaho holding a ridiculous 60% stake in the Bazelan Merchant Association.
The reason she could pull that off was simple: her business acumen was leagues beyond what the other branch managers could dream of matching.
She'd steadily funneled a cut of her company's profits back into the association, which let their starting two-story building expand to five floors.
That's why Emma handed over all her prepped documents for the war—three days out—and with the event looming, Nyaho shoved her own company's backlog aside to prioritize them.
Naturally, that left her regular workload piling up, resulting in the mountain of papers now burying her desk.
"Haaah~"
Benar, pondering her boss's inexplicable antics, turned at the satisfied sigh. Nyaho had left the plate spotless of crumbs and was pouring herself some black tea to wet her throat.
Only after Nyaho set her cup down did Benar speak.
"He still hasn't left the castle today."
"Oh~? What's he been up to, holed up in there for two straight days?"
After the castle guests departed came Nyaho's second baffling order: investigate the sole man among them and track his movements once he left the castle.
Benar followed orders faithfully, swallowing any objections. She started with Marcolin Vincent for intel, learning the guy's name was Smith and that he worked as a receptionist at the adventurers' guild.
Then she sent people to the Bazelan adventurers' guild to dig into adventurers who'd taken requests to Molingta, focusing on this Smith.
Bottom line: not much to show for it.
Just that Smith was Molingta's poster boy, a slave from the desert tribes, owned by Molingta's adventurers' guild branch manager. That was it.
Desperate, Benar tried bribing the Bazelan guild master—known for loving coin—but for some reason, the greedy bastard flat-out refused and chased her off.
More time and budget might've uncovered how he got snared by slavers, but Benar questioned if it was worth it. Luckily, Nyaho called it off midway, saying no need to dig deeper.
As for tracking movements? Nothing to report. Like she'd just said, he was still barricaded in the castle on day two.
Of course, they could find out what he was doing inside—but with Territory War tomorrow, any slip-up risked ugly misunderstandings or backlash she didn't want to deal with.
"So the only chance is tomorrow, huh."
"Mind clueing me in on what this 'chance' even is?"
Benar figured after two days of legwork, she deserved that much. But the response twisted her face.
"Just a hunch, nya. That I need to get close to that guy, and..."
"And?"
Benar snapped curtly, but Nyaho just grinned.
"It's a secret~"
"...Right, got it."
Benar gave up clean. She'd just trust her damn boss's track record and instincts.
Nyaho gazed out the window at the encroaching orange light and said,
"Then~ shall we call it a day to prep for tomorrow?"
"Still got one more report."
"Hmm~? What's left, nya?"
Benar nodded at her boss's question.
"Came up from all the companies. Since yesterday lunch, the rats have been swarming the streets in droves."
Benar called the slum alley-dwellers who'd infested the poor districts years back "rats." Perfect fit for those bitches squeezing the powerless and poking their noses into sewers at any whiff of cash.
Nyaho's tail swished as she asked,
"What're they sniffing around for this time~? Scavenging scraps again? Where~?"
"All seven spots."
"Eh~?"
Nyaho's head tilted at an angle. Benar added,
"Cross-checked every report from the other companies. They're not just out and about—they're scouting, circling the Merchant Association building multiple times."
"Hmmm~ Well, if those bitches have brains on their shoulders, they won't touch us directly."
"If they wanna throw away their bug lives, sure."
Despite her words, Benar secretly hoped the rats would poke the association. The guards each company hired and trained could slaughter the slum trash without backup—the gap in skill was that vast.
Unable to hire guards for personal use, Benar wished the slum scum would crash into them here. Fat chance, though.
Forget power levels—attacking the association, smack in the city center, meant getting their heads on pikes by patrols or roaming adventurers before they could flee to the outer walls or slums.
Benar hid her regret and asked her somewhat re-energized boss,
"If you're beat, I can hire someone discreet for tonight. Your call."
"Been ages since I toured the city, nya. I'll handle it myself—what's the point of wasting cash? Buy more cookies with it instead."
"You know your snack budget's already ballooning, right?"
Benar prodded, but Nyaho—who'd polished off the cookies and tea—ignored her flat-out, peeling her butt off the sofa.
Nyaho approached Liri, snoozing on her personal cushion, and gently scooped her up.
"Nya's gotta do what Benar asked first, so heading out~"
With that, she slipped out of the office—quietly, but at top speed.
Benar's sigh deepened.
West Slum District.
A rundown hellhole so decrepit it was hard to believe it was in the same city. No magic lamps, not even lanterns or torches—finding a lit spot was impossible. The air reeked of some foul, untraceable stench.
In that gloom, a small cat gracefully prowled the rooftops of crumbling buildings.
Clouds shrouded the dark sky, blocking even moonlight from the dreary streets. Liri—the black-furred cat blending perfectly with the shadows—flashed her mismatched blue and green eyes, stepping over shattered tiles, scaling walls, patrolling the slums diligently.
'Shouldn't have volunteered.'
Possessing Liri's body, Nyaho regretted her choice the moment the slum's signature stink hit her nose. No backing out now, though—she hustled to hit her goal fast, escape the slums, and head to the castle.
'Found it.'
No matter how pathetic the outfit, if it had a foothold in the city, Nyaho investigated and memorized it. Thanks to that habit, she had the slum gang's locations and members filed away mentally, zeroing in on one base effortlessly.
A surprisingly intact two-story wooden building amid the rickety shacks.
As she moved to hop onto the window frame like always, Nyaho froze.
'Why's it so quiet?'
Quiet was wrong for a gang base. As she approached to check—
'Blood?'
The metallic tang wafting from the building wrinkled her nose. A few leaps later, she perched on the second-floor frame.
Shhhrk.
Clouds parted, moonbeams piercing down, illuminating the pitch-black window's interior.
'......'
Nyaho was speechless at the carnage beyond the glass. Body parts scattered everywhere, walls and floor splattered and pooled with blood.
'Turf war?'
Only thing that came to mind. They were scum who could die any day without surprise, but their enemies were all weaklings they'd bullied—nobody else cared enough to bother killing them.
One thing was clear: something was going down.
Nyaho launched herself to uncover what.
Two in the west slums. Two in the south. Four of seven bases painted in blood.
She raced rooftops toward the last southern holdout, dignity be damned.
'Lights on!'
Maybe answers—Nyaho pushed harder. She vaulted several roofs in a flash, hurtling full-speed toward the window frame—
"Nyaaang?!"
Something snagged her scruff mid-leap. The lit window's glow vanished simultaneously.
'What the—?'
Nyaho couldn't process it. Her senses were duller in this body, sure—but not so bad she'd miss someone getting that close.
Yet here she was, nabbed by some unknown assailant without a clue.
As Nyaho stiffened in shock, the base door creaked open. A cloaked figure stepped out.
She turned, looking up—not at Nyaho, but her captor.
The woman vanished into the alley. Then Nyaho's body floated up.
Her grabber had leaped from the roof. Impossible lightness for a human—hopping roofs to drop into the alley below.
Feather-soft, perfectly stable landing. Impressive even to cat-kin Nyaho.
No time to gawk—she squinted at the stench assaulting her upon touchdown. Foul rot mixed with thick, overwhelming blood.
Instinct drew her eyes forward, to the source.
The blonde from moments ago stared back blankly.
Pointing at Nyaho, she said to the holder,
"That’s another stray you picked up? Beneo."