The rain hadn't stopped since morning.
Fat drops slid down the tall windows of the guild hall, turning the outside world into a blur of gray. Inside, the air was heavy with damp coats, muttering voices, and the soft clatter of cups. Adventurers gathered around tables, too many to be coincidence.
Some waited for assignments. Others stayed just to talk.
"She failed nine groups this week."
"I heard it was ten. And two of them were rank-ups."
"Can she even do that? Isn't there a review process?"
The voices circled like buzzards.
A woman with short black hair leaned on her elbow. "They say she doesn't read the papers. Just tosses them into the bin and fights them herself."
"She's not even a combat vet," someone muttered. "Why is she acting like one?"
A pause. Then a man across the table said, "I fought her. B-rank test. Didn't land a single hit."
Silence. A whistle.
"Then what happened?"
"She told me to come back when I could hold my stance after a full sprint."
A few laughed.
But the air still hung heavy. Not mocking—uneasy.
---
Behind the officers' door, Jinn stood alone.
She watched the rain.
In her mind: the pyre. The scroll. Lavirra's voice. Her own trembling hands.
She had stopped smiling two weeks ago.
Someone knocked.
"Come in," she said.
Lavirra stepped inside.
She didn't speak at first. Just set a bundle of cloth on Jinn's desk—wet cloaks from two new recruits who quit.
Then, softly:
"You made quite a name."
Jinn didn't turn. "I don't need a name. I need results."
"Then let me ask you this... are you getting them?"
Silence. Just the tapping of rain.
"You're strict," Lavirra said. "They call you Iron Gate. They say you won't let anyone through."
"If they can't survive a spar, how can they survive an ambush?"
Lavirra nodded slowly. "You're not wrong. But you're not all right, either."
Jinn glanced over.
"I get it," Lavirra said. "You saw what happens when kindness turns into a funeral."
Jinn's jaw tightened.
"But if you want to build a wall," Lavirra continued, "at least put a door in it."
She walked forward, placed a hand on Jinn's shoulder.
"Make the right decisions, or make the decisions right. If you're not going to change the rules, then change them with your own."
Jinn looked down. "...You're not mad anymore?"
Lavirra smirked. "I was never mad at you. I was mad that I saw myself in you."
She turned toward the door.
"Don't tie yourself too hard to one mistake. Time passes, Jinn. People come and go. But we're still here—guiding, failing, fixing. Not perfect. Just standing."
She opened the door.
"I have high hopes for you. That's why I'm still watching."
Then she left.
She stepped toward the window.
The rain was lighter now.
The sky, pale grey—but no longer dark.
She raised her gaze. Let her hand press against the glass.
Jinn stayed there.
Staring down. Listening to the silence.
Her grip on her arm loosened.
"She's right."
> "I've been strict to the point that I lost consideration, I've judged from hurt. Assessed from fear, without realizing I was robbing them of the chance to grow."
Her breath steadied.
> "They didn't need a wall. They needed a door."
> "Maybe I am the Iron Gate… but even gates can open—when the time is right."
She turned back toward the training board.
Her eyes scanned the names. The marks. The notes she scribbled.
Then, quietly:
> "I'll guide them. Tell them what to work on. Set a standard, not a punishment."
> "The bar doesn't need to be lower. Just clear. My standards are firm, harsh, and brutal—but there has to be a lesson in it. And that lesson starts by telling them what they lack… and how to grow."
Her fingers tapped once against the wood.
> "From now on, I do my job… better."
And smiled.
> They'll reach me. One day. And I'll be here when they do.
---
The guild hall quieted as the officers' door creaked open.
Jinn stepped out.
Some adventurers stood. Others stared.
She looked around, met a few gazes. Some flinched. Others held firm.
Then she spoke, voice even:
"Next test will be outdoors. Bring your gear. And bring a reason to be here."
She didn't wait for replies.
Just turned and walked into the rain.
The Iron Gate didn't open.
It moved.
And those with courage... followed.