Chapter 78: The Guildmaster’s Therapy Session [ Bonus Chapter ]

After the bell rang and the applause faded, the hall buzzed with excitement.

Adventurers congregated in lively clusters, sharing tales of their rewards, while Commissioners eagerly discussed upcoming missions. Spectators whispered about the Guild’s rapid rise to prominence.

The air still held a warm glow from the celebration, like embers that refused to cool completely. Yet, amidst all this noise and movement, one corner of the hall remained oddly still.

Mina sat there, having chosen a chair far from the Mission Board and away from the center of attention.

The Copper Badge rested in her small palm, glinting in the light as she moved it absentmindedly. Her legs barely touched the floor; her oversized shield leaned against the wall beside her.

Usually lively twin ponytails hung motionless at her shoulders. Though her back was straight and posture composed, her shoulders trembled slightly as if something within her was struggling to surface.

She wasn’t angry, that was what unsettled Sage most.

Anger he could understand; tantrums and shouting were issues that could be managed with rules or authority.

But this? This quiet disappointment weighed heavily without making a sound, it was dangerous territory.

This was emotional turmoil, and Sage, Guildmaster of the Adventurer Guild and master manipulator of systems and people alike, felt utterly unprepared to handle a little girl grappling silently with second place.

He noticed Mina only after most of the hall had emptied. Initially lost in his own thoughts, basking in success, tallying Reputation Points, dreaming about future upgrades, he leaned back in his chair with fingers drumming lazily against his desk.

Everything had gone better than planned: ten Copper Rank Adventurers recruited in one go! The Guild’s legitimacy had solidified in just one afternoon.

But then he saw Mina’s state and panic set in.

His gaze lingered on her small figure sitting alone; excitement drained from his face as concern took over. Leaning forward slightly with his chin resting on his knuckles, he watched her in silence.

“…Ah,” he muttered under his breath.

His mind raced into crisis mode.

This was bad, really bad. He envisioned worst-case scenarios: tears morphing into resentment, resentment spiraling into bitterness, a deeply traumatized girl with an absurdly powerful mercenary sister who might decide that Sage needed to be erased for emotional crimes against a minor.

“I can’t fight this,” Sage thought grimly. “I can’t bribe this away either.”

He glanced around half-hoping someone would come to rescue him from this situation, but Gregor had already been whisked away by friends. Tragically, this left it all up to him.

“Why is it always me?” he groaned inwardly.

He considered pretending not to notice or letting time heal things on its own; after all, she was strong, ridiculously strong, and second place wasn’t disgraceful by any means.

But the trembling of her shoulders didn’t stop. Sage sighed, a sigh that spoke volumes, the kind a man lets out when he knows he’s about to step far outside his comfort zone.

“Looks like I’m about to turn into a therapist,” he muttered as he pushed himself up from his chair. “What a hassle.”

He approached her slowly, deliberately, as if she were a wild animal that might bolt at any sudden movement.

The sound of his footsteps echoed softly against the polished floor, but Mina didn’t look up or acknowledge him at all. That hurt more than he expected.

Sage hesitated for a moment before pulling out a chair beside her and sitting down. He remained silent, and for what felt like an eternity, neither of them spoke.

The silence hung in the air, not awkward or tense, but heavy with unspoken truths. It was the kind of silence that demanded honesty, even if neither knew how to express it.

Leaning back slightly with his arms crossed and eyes fixed on the far wall, Sage searched for words that wouldn’t make things worse.

“Alright,” he finally said in a casual tone that belied the seriousness of the moment. “I’m not great at this, so I’ll just be straightforward.”

Mina’s fingers tightened around the Copper Badge.

Sage glanced sideways at her before looking away again, scratching the back of his head. “You’re disappointed.”

She didn’t respond.

“Yeah,” he nodded anyway. “Thought so.” Another pause followed.

“You know,” he continued lightly, “when I was younger, back in another life, I used to think losing meant you weren’t good enough. That coming in second meant you failed.”

Mina’s shoulders shook once.

Sage leaned forward now, elbows resting on his knees as his voice dropped slightly.

“Turns out, that’s nonsense.”

Finally meeting his gaze was difficult for her; her eyes were red, not filled with rage or hatred, but tired and confused… hurt.

“I lost,” she said quietly, just stating a fact without accusation.

“No,” Sage replied firmly without flinching. “You didn’t.”

Mina frowned at him. “I came second.”

“And?” Sage shrugged nonchalantly. “Second isn’t failure.”

She looked away again, jaw tightening as if grappling with something deep within herself. “Gregor won.”

“Yes, he did.”

“And I didn’t.”

Sage offered a faint smile. “You know what that means?”

She remained silent.

“It means you were close enough to matter,” he said simply.

His words landed heavily between them like stones sinking into water, simple yet profound.

“Failure isn’t falling behind,” Sage continued steadily and unhurriedly. “Failure is stopping because you didn’t win first; it’s deciding that being second erases everything you accomplished along the way.”

He tapped the Copper Badge lightly with one finger. “You didn’t get this because I felt sorry for you. You earned it.”

Mina’s grip relaxed a bit.

“Being second doesn’t mean you’re weak,” Sage continued. “It just means someone else edged you out this time. That’s all there is to it. There will be other opportunities, other days, and other battles.”

Leaning back, he stretched his arms. “If you give up every time you don’t come in first, you’ll never grow strong enough to stay there.”

Her shoulders stopped shaking.

Tears filled her eyes, not the angry kind, but something softer and closer to relief.

Sage noticed and internally panicked. “Oh no, not crying. This is definitely worse.”

But on the outside, he kept his cool, almost indifferent demeanor.

“Look,” he said, glancing at the ceiling for a moment. “You’re already formidable. Coming in second today doesn’t change that; it just gives you something to strive for.”

A tear rolled down Mina’s cheek.

Then another.

She didn’t wipe them away. “I wanted to win,” she whispered.

Sage nodded. “Good.”

She blinked at him in surprise.

“Wanting to win isn’t wrong,” he explained gently. “It shows that you care. Just remember: not winning doesn’t mean you’re not enough.”

Mina was silent for a long time. Finally, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Her shoulders relaxed.Wiping her face with the back of her sleeve, she sniffled once before sitting up straighter in her chair.

The disappointment didn’t disappear entirely, but it settled into something more manageable; something she could carry forward instead of letting it weigh her down.

“Next time,” she said softly as she gripped the Copper Badge again, “I’ll win.”

Sage smiled, not his usual smug grin or teasing smirk, but a quiet smile of approval.

“That’s the spirit,” he replied warmly.

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