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

I closed the diary with trembling hands, tears streaming down my face uncontrollably. Tilting my head upward, I stared at the empty ceiling of the shop. I had lost the one person who believed in me more than anyone else.

"Th-thank you, Old Man…" My voice was barely audible, filled with a blend of regret and gratitude. "I promise… I won't give up. I'll prove to this world that I'm more than just an extra character."

With the diary in my hands, I turned my gaze to the map and key inside the box. Old Man had left me everything, and now I knew what I had to do.

This was no longer just about survival. It was about proving that I could live for something greater.

The next day, I continued my work as usual, even though the weight in my heart felt as heavy as ever after Old Man Oldan's passing. Villagers came to the shop, asking about his whereabouts.

"Where's Old Man, Arkan?" an older woman asked curiously.

I forced a small smile, even though my chest tightened. "He's gone to the city for some important business," I replied briefly. The lie tasted bitter on my tongue, but I knew it was necessary.

The villagers accepted the explanation without further questions. In a world like this, journeys to the city were rare but not unheard of.

I spent the rest of the day throwing myself into work, completing the final batch of soap ordered by the city merchant. Work became my escape from grief, though the emptiness lingered every time I glanced at the quiet corners of the shop.

The stout man with sharp eyes and a calculating smile looked pleased as he examined the rows of neatly packaged soaps. He inspected the goods closely before nodding with satisfaction.

"Excellent, Arkan! You really know how to work efficiently. This product will sell like crazy in the city," he said with a chuckle.

I nodded silently. But before he could take all the goods, I spoke up, "I want to discuss something before we finalize this deal."

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Oh? What is it?"

"I'm leaving for the city," I said firmly. "This soap business was just a stepping stone for me to build some capital. I don't intend to stay tied to this village forever."

His smile faltered slightly but was quickly replaced with intrigue. "Hmm, so you're planning to start something new in the city? Quite ambitious. But what about production here? The village will lose you."

I gave a faint smile. "I've already thought of that. I won't let the village lose its income. I've taught the village chief and several residents how to make the soap. They can continue production, and you can keep sourcing the product from here. Our deal remains intact; I just won't be directly involved anymore."

He regarded me for a long moment, then let out a small laugh. "You're a sharp young man. Fine, then. We'll continue working together. I'll take the goods from this village, and you can focus on your ambitions in the city. But don't forget—if you come up with another product worth selling, I want to be the first person you call."

"Deal." I extended my hand, and he shook it enthusiastically.

I stood in front of the gathered villagers near the communal well, demonstrating the simple steps for making soap. The village chief, a group of housewives, and even some children watched attentively.

"Make sure the wood ash is clean," I explained, pointing to the mixture in the pot. "And don't forget to heat it carefully. If the temperature's too high, the soap will fail."

The housewives nodded seriously, jotting down the steps I showed them. The village chief looked pleased, impressed by how this simple method could create a new opportunity for their community.

"With this, I'm confident you can continue producing soap without any issues," I said, wiping my hands. "I hope this brings prosperity to the village."

One of the women approached me with a warm smile. "Thank you, Arkan. You've truly made a difference for this village. Best of luck in the city!"

I returned her smile, though a heavy weight settled in my chest at the thought of leaving the place I had called home. "Thank you, ma'am. Take good care of the village."

I stood at the edge of the village, a small bag slung over my shoulder containing the map, Old Man's diary, and some supplies. Behind me, the villagers waved enthusiastically.

"Safe travels, Arkan!" the village chief called out.

"Don't forget to visit us someday!" shouted a young boy who had once helped me in the shop.

I nodded, holding back my emotions. "I'll definitely return," I replied, even though I knew it might be a long time before I would set foot here again.

With steady steps, I left the small village, embarking on a new journey toward the city. I knew the road ahead would be fraught with challenges, but I also knew every step I took would be toward something greater.

"Old Man," I murmured, gripping the diary inside my bag tightly. "I won't waste this chance. I'll make this world remember my name."

And with that, I moved forward, leaving my past behind to face an uncertain future.

---

The journey to the nearest fortress city should have taken two, maybe three days if I stayed on the right path. But reality doesn't always go as planned.

Now, I found myself standing in the middle of a dense forest, surrounded by towering trees that rose like endless walls. The trail I had been following had suddenly disappeared, leaving nothing but a carpet of leaves and sprawling roots in its place.

Damn it! How did this even happen?!

I had been following the horse tracks that I knew led to the main road to the city. But instead of finding a way out, I had somehow wandered deeper into the forest.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm myself. Panicking wouldn't help. If I started shouting or causing a scene, I'd only attract wild animals—or worse, monsters.

"Stay calm, Arkan… Stay calm," I whispered to myself, even as unease began to creep into my heart.

But then, I heard something—a sound.

Footsteps.

I instinctively crouched down, moving quickly toward a thick bush that would hide my body. These weren't the sounds of a horse or animal. They were unmistakably human.

Cold sweat trickled down my temple. What were people doing here? This route was supposed to be rarely traveled, especially by foot. Were they… bandits?

Holding my breath, I peeked through the leaves.

A moment later, I spotted two figures walking along the narrow path. They moved casually, dressed in ragged clothing that marked them as neither rich nor noble. One of them, a young man with unkempt hair and a sly expression, carried a worn short sword at his side.

For a brief moment, I considered stepping out to ask for help, but something held me back. Why were they here? This place was far too remote for casual travelers.

Deciding to wait, I strained my ears to catch their conversation. If I could learn something useful, it might be worth it.

"Damn, I didn't expect things to get so messy yesterday," muttered the man with the short sword, his voice laced with frustration.

"You talk too much, Carlon," grumbled the other man, older, with a gravelly voice. "It all worked out, didn't it? The old man's dead. Now we're free to take whatever he left behind."

My heart stopped for a moment. Old man? Were they talking about…

"The problem," Carlon continued, "is that if anyone gets suspicious, we're screwed. You know how small that village is. Once they start asking questions, it'll be hard for us to slip away."

The older man scoffed. "Who cares? Remember, I was already kicked out of that village. They don't want to see my face again anyway. Besides, it's their own fault for letting the old man hoard everything. We're just taking what we deserve."

I clamped my hand over my mouth, trying to stifle the sound of my breathing, which suddenly felt too loud. These… these were the culprits.

The older man—I remembered him now. His name was Rudo, a villager my age who had been exiled years ago for stealing livestock. After the villagers discovered his crime, the village chief and the townsfolk had thrown him out without mercy. I thought he was long gone, but apparently, he had stayed nearby.

And now, he had killed Old Man Oldan.

Rage burned in my chest, but I remained crouched in my hiding spot. I couldn't act recklessly. Both men were armed, and all I had was a wooden staff—not even sharp enough to stab. My mind raced as I tried to process the situation.

"Well, what can you do," Carlon said with a smirk. "At least we got some coins out of it. That old man was stubborn, but in the end, he broke down."

I clenched my fists so hard that my nails dug into my palms. Stubborn…? Did they torture him before killing him? The thought alone made my anger flare even hotter, but I forced myself to stay put.

"Come on, let's get moving. No point hanging around here," Rudo said, glancing around the forest cautiously.

Carlon nodded, and the two of them continued walking, disappearing into the trees.

I stayed hidden, waiting until their footsteps faded completely. My breath came in quick bursts—not from exhaustion, but from the flood of emotions swirling in my mind.

They… they were the ones who killed him.

My hands trembled, but I knew I couldn't act impulsively. They had weapons, and I didn't know how strong they were. But one thing was certain: I wasn't going to let them get away with this.

I stared in the direction they had gone, my fists clenched tightly with renewed determination. "Old Man, I swear… I'll make them pay for what they did to you."