Don't Want to Be Ordinary Even Though I'm an Extra Character

When I returned to the shop, something felt off.

A foreboding chill hung in the air like an invisible, dark fog. My heartbeat quickened for no discernible reason, as if something unseen was urging me to run.

I picked up my pace, gripping the basket of materials I had collected from the forest tightly. But when I finally reached the shop, the sight before me made my breath catch in my throat.

The shop door was wide open, and inside… everything was in complete disarray. Bottles of herbs lay shattered on the floor, wooden shelves had toppled over, and the sales counter looked as though something heavy had slammed into it. The air carried a mix of scents—herbs, a faint trace of blood, and the smoky tang of burnt wood.

I scanned the scene in panic. "Old Man?!" I called, my voice trembling. No reply.

Without thinking, I stepped inside, the soles of my boots crunching against shards of broken glass. It felt like walking into a nightmare. "Old Man?! Where are you?!"

I rushed to the back room where Old Man Oldan usually rested. But the moment I opened the door, my legs froze. It felt as though the world itself had stopped spinning.

There, in the middle of the wrecked room, Old Man Oldan lay sprawled on the floor. His clothes were soaked with blood, pooling beneath him like a crimson tide. His face was pale, his half-open eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.

"Old Man!" I cried, stumbling toward him. My knees hit the cold wooden floor as I knelt beside him, shaking his shoulder gently. "Old Man, wake up! What happened?! Who did this?!"

He let out a faint groan, his voice so weak it was barely audible. His eyes sluggishly turned toward me, and for the first time, I saw something I had never seen in them before: fear.

"Kid… forgive me… for not always supporting you…" he whispered, cutting off my frantic words. His cold, trembling hand gripped mine weakly, as though trying to pass something important to me.

I looked at him, my eyes welling with tears as the weight of the moment pressed on my chest. "Old Man, stop! Don't talk like that! I'll save you, I—"

He shook his head faintly, his fading smile barely lingering. His eyes grew dimmer. "Listen… under the shelf… there's a box… something for you. But… don't… don't go after them…"

"Old Man, what do you mean?! Who are they?!"

His voice grew thinner, but he continued as though he couldn't waste his remaining breath. "Trust me… people like them… they envy what you've accomplished. Sooner or later… misfortune will catch up to them…"

I bit down hard on my lip, fighting the storm of anger, grief, and confusion raging in my mind. Why was he asking me not to seek justice? How could he expect me to stay quiet after this?!

"Old Man, I won't let it end like this!" I held his hand tightly, hoping to share some of my strength with him, though deep down, I knew it was already too late.

A small, frail smile formed on his face. "Kid… you're… a good one…"

And then, his grip loosened. His breathing stopped. The light in his eyes faded completely.

"Old Man…?" My voice trembled, unwilling to accept the reality before me. "Old Man?! Don't leave me… Wake up! WAKE UP!"

But silence answered me. Only the smell of blood and the ruins of this room bore witness to his passing.

I fell to the floor, my entire body trembling with cold. Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably, dripping onto the wooden boards now stained with the blood of the only family I had ever known in this world.

For what felt like an eternity, I sat there, staring at the still form of Old Man Oldan. My teeth clenched as anger and helplessness consumed me in waves, crashing endlessly against my thoughts. This world… this world was merciless.

I didn't know if these emotions belonged solely to Arkan or if they had seeped into me as well, but the pain in my chest felt so real, so suffocating. Although I was someone who came from another world, disconnected from Old Man Oldan's history, this body—the original Arkan—had known him for years. And as if that grief had transferred to me, my tears wouldn't stop.

"Old Man…" I whispered hoarsely, my voice barely audible. Speaking felt like swallowing shards of glass.

Maybe he had often been harsh, quick to scold, and endlessly grumbling about trivial things. But I knew… deep down, he was a good man.

When Arkan lost both his parents, when the entire world had shut its doors on him, Old Man Oldan was the one who took him in. He gave him a home, taught him to live simply, and even though he complained endlessly, he always made sure Arkan had food on the table and a roof over his head.

And now? That figure lay motionless, lifeless, leaving behind only vivid memories of his unwavering presence.

My hands trembled as I touched his cold shoulder, closing my eyes briefly to stem the surge of emotions threatening to shatter my rationality. "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry… I couldn't protect you…"

I wanted to scream, to smash everything in this room. But I knew none of that would bring him back. This world had taken him, and there was nothing I could do to change that.

I clenched my fists until my knuckles turned white, biting down on my frustration. This world offered no mercy. It didn't matter how good a person was; it would strip them away without hesitation.

Tears dripped onto the blood-stained floorboards. "Why… Why does it have to be like this?"

I looked at his face one last time, trying to etch every detail into my mind—the wrinkles on his forehead, the scruffy beard he always neglected, and the sharp eyes that usually regarded me with a mix of critique and… unspoken affection.

"Old Man… I won't waste the life you gave me. I won't let this world destroy what you built…" I spoke softly, as if he could still hear me. "I'll grow stronger. I'll survive. And I'll make sure those who did this… regret it for the rest of their lives."