Adrian sat in silence.
The candle flickered on his desk, casting long shadows across his room.
In front of him was a blank parchment, the kind he usually used for math problems.
But tonight, numbers were not what filled his mind.
"…If I build a guild…" he whispered to himself.
"…What do I need first?"
He dipped the quill into ink, hesitating.
Then, slowly, deliberately, he began to scratch words across the page.
[Guild Seats — First Draft]
— Leader
— Right Hand
— Shield
— Blade
— Heart
— Eye
— Voice
— Hidden One
Adrian leaned back, studying the words.
Eight roles. Eight seats.
His lips curled faintly.
"…This doesn't look like much. But this could be everything."
He tapped the first word.
"Leader."
He smirked.
"That's me. Obviously. But what kind of leader…?"
His gaze drifted to the candle flame.
"In my past life, I saw too many guild leaders fail. Some thought leading was about ordering people around. Others thought it was about showing off. Idiots."
He tilted his head.
"A leader should never be the loudest voice in the room. A leader should… guide. Quietly. Like the current under a river."
He scribbled notes beneath the word:
— Leader must not break.
— Leader must know when to be hated.
— Leader must carry the weight alone.
He muttered, "If that's me… then I have to be ready to be the villain in my own guild's eyes. If it means survival."
He moved to the second word.
"Right Hand."
Adrian rested his chin on his palm.
"The one who stands closest. The one who sees my back when I can't. The one who doesn't betray."
His expression darkened slightly.
"In my last life, I trusted the wrong person. And it broke everything. Not again."
He pressed the quill hard against the parchment.
— Right Hand must be unshakable.
— Loyalty over talent.
— They must know me better than anyone else.
He chuckled faintly.
"…It might even be better if they can argue with me. A Right Hand who agrees with everything is useless. I need someone who can stop me from walking off a cliff."
His eyes moved down the list.
"Shield."
His voice softened.
"The one who protects. Not just me, but the guild itself."
He drew a small circle beside the word.
"In my past life, shields were always… replaceable. They were strong, yes, but they always fell first. Why? Because nobody valued them beyond being a wall."
He shook his head.
"No. Not this time. The Shield isn't just a wall. They're the foundation. If the Shield breaks, the guild breaks. I need someone who doesn't just block attacks… but protects trust."
He wrote carefully:
— Shield must protect not only flesh, but bonds.
— They carry the guild's morale.
— If the Shield doubts, everyone doubts.
Adrian smiled faintly.
"…Stronger than iron. But softer than people expect."
He moved on.
"Blade."
His quill twirled in his hand.
"…The one who cuts without hesitation."
He let out a breath.
"In my last life, Blades were easy to find. Killers. Monsters. Bloodthirsty people who liked fighting. But those types are dangerous. They fall too easily. They get reckless."
He frowned.
"No… the Blade I need isn't just someone strong. I need someone who understands the difference between cutting and butchering."
He scribbled:
— Blade must be precise.
— Must know when not to strike.
— Must be feared by enemies, but respected by allies.
Adrian chuckled.
"…Sharp enough to scare the world. But wise enough to sheath themselves when needed."
He tapped the next word.
"Heart."
For a moment, his expression softened.
"…The one who heals. But not just bodies."
He leaned closer, writing slowly.
— Heart must mend wounds nobody sees.
— Heart must be trusted.
— Without the Heart, the guild rots from inside.
He muttered, "A Heart who only heals injuries isn't enough. I need someone who can heal trust. Someone who can keep us human, even when the world turns us into weapons."
A faint smile touched his lips.
"…Maybe the Heart will be the most important seat of all."
"Eye."
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"The one who sees further than me."
He tapped his temple.
"In my last life, we lacked foresight. We only reacted. And by the time we saw the knife coming, it was too late."
He scribbled fiercely:
— Eye must see danger before it arrives.
— Eye must be calm, not arrogant.
— Eye must guide the guild's path quietly.
He muttered, "A guild without an Eye… walks blind."
"Voice."
He paused.
"The one who speaks when I can't. The one who turns enemies into allies… or at least into something neutral."
He drew a faint line under the word.
— Voice must not be a liar.
— But must know when truth is dangerous.
— Words should save more lives than swords.
Adrian smirked.
"…I've seen more people die from bad negotiations than from monsters."
Then, finally, his gaze fell on the last line.
"The Hidden One."
His expression darkened.
"…The role nobody but me knows."
He leaned closer to the parchment, whispering as if someone could hear.
"This seat… is not for the guild. It's for me. A shadow. A knife in the dark. A presence nobody suspects until it's too late."
He wrote carefully:
— Hidden One = last safeguard.
— Only I decide who it is.
— Their loyalty is not to the guild, but to me.
His lips curved.
"…A secret within the secret."
Adrian sat back, staring at the parchment.
Eight seats. Eight roles.
But the more he stared, the more incomplete it felt.
"…Is this enough? Am I missing something?"
He tapped the quill against the desk, thinking.
Then he started muttering out loud, pacing the room.