Chapter 115: People Are More Dangerous Than Monsters

If monsters were the only threat in this world, life would be a lot simpler.

That was the first realization Boren came to as the morning unfolded.

By the time the sun had fully risen, the Guild Hall had shifted from a place of wonder into something much more intimidating.

The spacious hall buzzed with activity, Adventurers weaving between the Mission Board, voices blending into a low, constant hum. But it was the line forming at the receptionist desk that made Boren’s palms damp with sweat.

Commissioners had arrived. They came in various forms: some were merchants clad in fine clothes, their rings glinting as they gestured animatedly; others wore travel-stained cloaks, their faces etched with exhaustion and desperation.

A few stood too straight and composed, their eyes sharp and calculating in a way that made Boren’s instincts prickle, though he didn’t yet understand why.

Sage stood beside him, not behind the desk this time, but slightly off to the side, arms crossed and gaze calm behind his golden-rimmed glasses. He looked like a man observing waves crash against a shore. interested but never threatened.

“This,” Sage said quietly as the first commissioner stepped forward, “is where things become difficult.”

Boren swallowed hard and nodded.

The commissioner was a middle-aged man with thinning hair and a silk-lined cloak that hinted at recent wealth. His smile was wide and practiced but didn’t reach his eyes.

“I wish to post a mission,” he said smoothly. “Urgent. Extremely urgent.”

Boren straightened up, recalling Sage’s earlier instructions. “Please state the nature of the mission, sir, and provide all relevant details.”

The man leaned closer to the desk, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “A minor issue really, a group of… bandits. Just a handful. Barely worth mentioning, but they’ve been inconveniencing my trade routes.”

Sage’s eyebrow twitched almost imperceptibly.

Boren began writing but Sage raised a finger slightly.

“Pause,” Sage instructed.

The commissioner blinked. “Is there a problem?”

Sage smiled politely. “No problem at all, just training.”

He turned his head slightly toward Boren without taking his eyes off the man. “What did you notice?”

Boren hesitated before speaking carefully. “He said ’urgent,’ but he doesn’t seem… panicked?”

“Good,” Sage replied. “What else?”

“He minimized the threat by calling it a ’minor issue.’”

Sage nodded thoughtfully. “And why is that important?”

Boren frowned as he thought hard. “Because if it’s urgent then it shouldn’t be minor?”

The commissioner chuckled lightly. “Young man, you’re overthinking…”

Sage raised his hand to cut him off without raising his voice. “Sir, please allow us to finish.”

The man stiffened slightly at this interruption.

Sage leaned closer to Boren. “You know, when people exaggerate urgency while downplaying danger, they’re usually hiding something. Either the mission is far riskier than they claim, or the reward isn’t worth the risk.”

He straightened up and turned back to the commissioner. “Could you clarify? How many bandits are we talking about?”

The man waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, maybe ten. Fifteen at most.”

Sage’s smile remained unchanged. “And where exactly?”

“A forest trail near the eastern hills.”

Sage nodded thoughtfully. “That area has seen monster activity in the past two weeks, including a confirmed sighting of an Ironhide Boar.”

For just a moment, the man’s smile faltered.

Boren noticed it immediately.

Sage turned back to him. “Did you catch that?”

Boren nodded slowly, his heart racing. “He hesitated.”

“Exactly,” Sage replied. “That hesitation reveals the truth beneath.”

He faced the commissioner again. “We’ll classify this as a 2-Star Mission with an adjusted risk clause. The reward will be scaled accordingly. If there are any undisclosed threats, we’ll note that in the Guild records.”

The commissioner’s expression tightened. “That seems unnecessary…”

“Guild policy,” Sage stated calmly.

After a tense pause, the man reluctantly agreed.

As he left, Boren let out a shaky breath.

“That wasn’t even a monster,” he murmured.

Sage glanced at him knowingly. “No, that was just a test.”

The next commissioner was worse, she arrived with tear-streaked cheeks and trembling hands, clutching her handkerchief like it was a lifeline.

Her story spilled out in frantic fragments, her brother missing, taken by beasts, time slipping away.

Boren felt his heart twist in sympathy and looked to Sage for guidance.

Sage listened intently, his expression unreadable. When she finished speaking, Sage gently asked, “When was he taken?”

“Three days ago,” she sobbed.

Sage nodded thoughtfully. “And you came here today?”

“I…I didn’t know what else to do!”

Sage paused before asking firmly but kindly, “Why not yesterday?”

Her sobs hitched as she struggled for words.

Boren felt something break inside him.

Leaning closer to Boren, Sage whispered softly, “Desperation is real, but genuine desperation shows patterns. People act quickly when they’re truly desperate; they don’t wait around to calculate their options.”

Turning back to the woman with kindness lacing his voice, he said, “We will accept this mission on one condition: you must provide your brother’s last known location along with a sworn statement confirming all details. False reporting carries serious penalties.”

She froze for a moment before her shoulders slumped in defeat. “…He ran away,” she admitted quietly. “Joined a mercenary group. I just want him brought back.”

The silence that followed was thick with tension.

Boren stared at her, taken aback.

Sage nodded slowly. “Thank you for your honesty.”

As she walked away, Boren clenched his fists. “That felt… cruel.”

Sage shook his head. “No, it was neutral.” He gestured toward the Guild Hall. “This isn’t a court, a charity, or a mercenary service. It’s a system. Systems break down when emotions take precedence over structure.”

More commissioners lined up behind him. A well-dressed man tried to slide a pouch of coins onto the desk, grinning as if it were expected.

Without missing a beat, Sage stopped him. “Bribery is noted. Mission rejected.”

Another commissioner attempted to demand priority service.

Sage calmly informed him that the Guild operated without a priority system.

“But I’m a Baron’s cousin!” the man protested.

“Then you can wait like everyone else,” Sage replied evenly.

With each interaction, Boren’s naïveté began to fade away.

He started noticing patterns, the way manipulators leaned in too close, how liars tended to overexplain themselves, and how true desperation often spoke softly rather than loudly.

Throughout it all, Sage offered insights, sometimes aloud and other times in quiet murmurs meant just for Boren.

“When to escalate.”

“When to refuse.”

“When silence carries more weight than words.”

As the line finally thinned and afternoon light streamed through the windows, Sage rested his hand on the desk. Boren looked up at him, feeling exhausted yet sharper than before.

Sage met his gaze with steady resolve. “From today on,” he said firmly, “you represent the Guild.”

Those words settled over Boren like armor, not as protection but as responsibility.

And for the first time, he truly understood: people could be far more dangerous than monsters.

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