The Team Leader is Confident

It felt like Loya had become a completely different person.

Kalandria had been puzzling over this for days.

That honest, dependable Loya—gentle in temperament, quick with his hands, sharp when solving problems—

How had he transformed so drastically right after he announced, half a month ago, that he wanted to leave Swan Lake?

But truthfully, Kalandria didn’t care about how he had changed.

What she cared about was where her judgment had gone wrong.

Why wasn’t this guy Loya listening to her anymore?

He had always been a perfectly obedient little dog who ran wherever she pointed.

Easy to command, easy to manipulate—give him the slightest reward and he would happily wag his tail around her.

Yet suddenly, every trick that used to work on him stopped working overnight.

If your own dog suddenly turns rebellious, who wouldn’t be thrown off?

To figure out what went wrong, Kalandria had tried probing him repeatedly.

But his attitude toward her had become: “We’re not close, don’t approach me, keep your distance.”

He brushed her off every time, clearly impatient.

Frustrated, Kalandria decided to use her final tactic.

Before the inevitable breaking off of her arranged engagement, she might as well use the situation to her advantage.

And sure enough, the effect was excellent.

Watching Loya stare at the engagement invitation—pretending to be calm and mature, acting like he didn’t care—it was so obvious he was faking it.

His acting was terrible, unable to hide the confusion and helplessness in his eyes.

Kalandria found this deeply satisfying.

He clearly still liked her so much he couldn’t pull himself away, yet stubbornly refused to admit it.

Well now, she thought smugly, let him choke on jealousy until he’s sick with it.

Recalling Loya’s expression again and again, Kalandria couldn’t help but hum softly in the bathroom.

Standing beneath the showerhead, the strong stream of hot water dyed her soft, flawless skin a faint rosy pink.

Countless droplets slid down her delicate body, tracing her slender neck, the curve of her waist, and her long legs.

In all of Florence, what man wouldn’t be tempted by such a perfect figure?

—Kalandria believed from the bottom of her heart that it was impossible for anyone not to be.

In unusually high spirits, she washed off the tavern’s lingering smell of alcohol, wrapped herself cozily in a bath towel, and stepped barefoot into the living room.

The moment she came out, the front door opened, and two of her teammates returned from their outing.

First through the door was a tall girl, panting lightly, her teal hair—tied into a messy bun—coming undone.

Her black-and-gold light armor was smudged with the stench of monsters, clearly showing she’d been too busy to even tidy herself up.

One hand held a heavy weapon, the other carried a bulging bag full of loot from their adventure.

Sweat glimmered across the bronze skin of her arms and abs, outlining the lines of powerful, athletic muscle.

This was Hanni—the spell-warrior of Swan Lake and one of Florence’s well-known noble adventurers—who was clearly exhausted today.

“You’re back this late? Where did you two go?”

Hearing Kalandria’s playful tone—without a hint of concern—Hanni froze for a moment, her already tense brows tightening further.

“Can’t you tell, my lady? We just finished sorting the spoils from the last expedition, and today was the deadline for delivering the commissioned materials to the Guild.”

“Oh… that tiny thing.”

Kalandria glanced casually.

“Normally you just hand that off to the Guild’s receptionists, no? Why did you have to do it personally? That’s not very befitting of a noble.”

Hanni rolled her eyes—if she wasn’t so tired, she would’ve shouted already.

“Easy for you to say. The Guild only handles verification and payment.

Before that, everything else—cleaning the materials, identifying rare components, finding buyers outside the commission requirements—plus all the other miscellaneous tasks—needs to be arranged with specialists. And usually, Loya was the one handling all of this.”

“…Oh. R-right, was he?”

The confident air Kalandria had just a moment ago suddenly deflated.

Hanni was certain this was the first time the young lady had ever realized any of this.

Not just expedition spoils—every kind of logistical work in the team, big or small, was handled entirely by Loya.

Hanni had never really felt it before. Compared to facing monsters, logistics didn’t seem dangerous.

And after all, logistics wouldn’t kill you… right?

But now she understood deeply what “death from overwork” meant.

“Well… thank you for your hard work. Anyway, speaking of which, how were the profits from the last expedition?”

As the captain, she offered a token expression of gratitude, then immediately steered the conversation elsewhere while settling herself on the couch—anything to avoid Hanni’s complicated gaze.

“Profit?”

Hanni let out a cold snort.

“After the Guild paid for the materials and commission, it barely covered our outstanding expenses. No profit at all.”

“What?”

It felt like she had sat on a cactus instead of a couch—Kalandria jumped straight back up.

Swan Lake was one of the strongest adventuring teams in Florence.

They took the highest-risk commissions and earned the highest rewards—so how could they not turn a profit?

Sensing something wrong, Kalandria’s expression darkened.

“Hold on. Where did this debt even come from? The Lewenstide family would never be in debt.”

“Not your family. The team’s operational funds. Loya set it up.

Otherwise how do you think we’ve been able to fund our daily expedition expenses without asking our families for money?”

Hanni opened her enchanted pouch, pulled out a ledger nearly as thick as a fist, and dropped it on the table like a brick.

“Our commissions pay well, sure—but the cost of adventuring is high too.”

Kalandria flipped through it and saw not only revenue but page after page of expenses—potions, tools, gear maintenance, equipment repairs.

All written in Loya’s hand.

There were even daily living expenses she didn’t dare mention.

Swan Lake lived at the standards of high nobility—she herself included.

You never understand how expensive life is until you’re the one paying for it.

Usually, when a team replaces its logistics member, profits temporarily go up—because there’s no longer someone skimming off resources for themselves.

After all, people are selfish.

But Hanni never imagined that without Loya, Swan Lake couldn’t even maintain basic financial balance.

They were worse than the most ragtag beginner parties on the street.

Her only hope was that seeing the zero profit would make Kalandria reflect—maybe even calm down enough to bring Loya back.

Sure, she always said “If he won’t do it, someone else will,” but whether they could do it well… that was another story.

And right now, the answer was: absolutely not.

“So, Kalandria,” Hanni said, troubled, choosing her words carefully,

“Given the situation… you’re the captain. What do you think we should do?”

She didn’t expect that the young lady who had just looked shocked a moment ago would now casually toss the ledger aside and answer with complete nonchalance.

“What to do? Simple.

We just do what needs to be done. After some time, everything will naturally sort itself out.”

Her tone carried not only the arrogance of a noble but also a baffling, completely unearned confidence.