Don't Want to Be Ordinary Even Though I'm an Extra Character-Chapter 125: [124] Next Action (2)

The room was filled with the scent of mahogany wood and the slow-melting wax of a candle resting on its silver holder. A towering bookshelf lined the walls, packed with ancient tomes bound in leather, their covers darkened by time. At the center of the room stood a grand oak desk, polished to a gleam, reflecting the soft glow of a crystal chandelier overhead.

Arkan sat behind the desk, his fingers interlaced over the cool wooden surface. His face was illuminated by the flickering fire burning in the hearth at the side of the room, casting faint shadows on the intricately carved walls. In a deep, calm voice, he finally broke the silence.

"Pastor... The kingdom’s situation is growing more dire. You may not have heard yet, but within the empire, the throne has changed hands. The new king... he is a highly ambitious man. His goal is to seize control of all the surrounding territories. And that means this neutral kingdom—the very land we now stand upon—will soon be dragged into war."

Pastor Hongward sat across from him in a velvet-upholstered chair. He listened to Arkan’s words with an unreadable expression, his eyes fixed on the smooth surface of the desk as if searching for answers there. The only sound in the quiet room was the occasional crackling of burning wood from the fireplace, heightening the tension between them. After a long exhale, he lifted his gaze and asked, "And what does that have to do with the church?"

Arkan’s lips curled into a faint smile, his mouth forming a slight curve, though his eyes remained sharp. A smile that was neither entirely pleasant nor an outright threat. Leaning back in his chair with a relaxed motion, he let out a soft chuckle before responding.

"Hahaha... Pastor, don’t think I don’t know. The current Pope holds considerable influence. If he so wished, he could change the course of this situation."

Hongward narrowed his eyes slightly, trying to decipher the deeper meaning behind those words. "You mean?"

Arkan leaned forward again, his gaze seemingly piercing through Hongward. "Of course... I want that influence." His voice dropped a notch lower, the tension in the air thickening. "Pastor, will you help me?"

Pastor Hongward did not answer immediately. The firelight flickered, its wavering glow dancing across the elegantly carved walls. A silent debate stirred within him. He did not wish for war—war only brought suffering to countless people. Yet, at the same time, he could not deny the harsh reality that war was often the final path to resolving a conflict. Humans were hypocritical... or so he thought. They condemned war, yet they used it to serve their own ends.

But Arkan... this man seemed different. At the very least, Hongward could sense an odd sincerity in his gaze.

Taking a deep breath, he tapped his fingers lightly against the armrest of his chair before finally asking in a low voice, "Tell me... can you stop the war?"

Silence fell over the room. Arkan stared at Hongward without blinking, then lowered his head slightly. He took a slow, deep breath before speaking a single word in a steady tone.

"No..."

A faint sense of disappointment crept into Hongward’s heart. But before he could say anything, Arkan continued, his voice heavier than before. "I’ll be frank with you, Pastor. This situation... cannot be stopped. I can delay the war with the church’s influence, but war will happen—if not this year, then next year, or in the years to come. Even as we speak, other battles are already being fought elsewhere."

Pastor Hongward remained silent, his eyes drawn to the fire as it danced uncertainly, mirroring the turmoil in his mind. The answer he sought... was not one he could accept so easily.

Pastor Hongward let out a slow sigh, his gaze fixed on the flickering glow of the fireplace across from him. The soft crackling of burning wood accompanied the unease settling in his chest. In a low voice, almost a murmur, he finally spoke. "But... Arkan, I want to believe that war is not the only path to overcoming this crisis. Is there truly no other way?"

Arkan did not respond right away. The crystal chandelier overhead cast sharp shadows across his face, accentuating the rigid lines of his tightened jaw. He leaned back in his black leather chair, fingers tapping lightly against the polished oak desk. When he finally spoke, his voice was deeper than before.

"Pastor... I want to believe the same thing." His breath was heavy before he continued. "But I feel that the other side has no intention of listening. Do you want to know why I think that?"

Pastor Hongward lifted his gaze, his eyes now locked onto the man before him. There was something in Arkan’s voice that gave him a bad feeling, as though this conversation was about to unearth an old wound that had never fully healed. And yet, he still wanted to hear the answer.

"Tell me..." he said quietly.

Arkan met his gaze without blinking, then spoke a single name in a cold, measured tone.

"Clara Winfield."

Silence instantly blanketed the room. The fireplace, which once provided warmth, now seemed dimmer, as if responding to the sudden shift in atmosphere. Pastor Hongward felt the air around him grow heavier, pressing down on his chest with an indescribable pain.

Of course, he still remembered that girl. How could he ever forget someone like Clara Winfield? A young nun who had dedicated years of her life to the outskirts, selflessly aiding those in need, devoting herself to service. Her smile was always gentle, her voice filled with sincerity, and her small hands were ever ready to tend to the wounded.

But behind all that kindness lay a truth more bitter than poison.

Clara Winfield was no angel, as he had once believed. Beneath her holy robes, she was a dark sorceress. A woman who had, without hesitation, used the villagers—including himself—as sustenance for the Demon Centipede, a monstrous creature lurking in the shadows.

Pastor Hongward’s grip tightened over his knee, his gaze lowered, attempting to conceal the storm rising within him. Even after all these years, the wound still felt real.

He took a long breath, feeling the familiar sting returning to his chest. Time had passed, yet the scars left by that incident burned like embers smoldering beneath the surface. In a heavy voice, he murmured, "That incident happened long ago... but even now, it still hurts to remember."

Arkan’s sharp gaze remained fixed on him. The flickering firelight cast faint shadows across his face, making his expression difficult to decipher. Folding his hands over the cold oak desk, he spoke with a more serious tone. "Yes... but there’s one more thing you don’t know."

Hongward lifted his head, confusion flashing across his face. "Eh?"

Arkan leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly before continuing. "Recently, I uncovered something shocking." His gaze deepened, as if measuring his listener’s reaction. "Clara was part of a heretical group... the worshippers of the Evil God Sect."

The room instantly felt colder. Pastor Hongward’s heartbeat quickened—not out of shock, but from the anger creeping into his veins. "What...?" he whispered.

Arkan watched him closely before pressing on. "And that’s why I believe the empire won’t listen to anything I attempt. Diplomacy, resource exchanges, or any other form of negotiation to prevent war... none of it will matter."

Hongward furrowed his brows, disbelief written in his eyes. "So... you’re saying the empire is under their control? Do you even realize how absurd that sounds!?"

Arkan did not respond immediately. He picked up the wine glass that had been sitting on his desk, swirling the deep red liquid before taking a slow sip. Then, in a low voice, he murmured, "Absurd or not... every man has a darkness within them." His gaze locked onto Hongward’s, cold and unwavering. "Do you truly believe those in power wouldn’t be tempted by what that sect has to offer?"

Pastor Hongward swallowed, his mind struggling to grasp the grim possibility unfolding before him. "And... do you know what they’re offering?"

Arkan let out a long sigh, shrugging slightly. "It’s just speculation..." he admitted, his voice barely rising above the crackling fire. "But if I had to guess... perhaps what they promise is immortality."

The weight in the room deepened, as though the very air between them had thickened, making it difficult to breathe. The firelight cast restless shadows along the walls, forming silhouettes that flickered anxiously, as if even they were unsettled by the conversation taking place. Embers crackled softly, sending tiny sparks into the air before they faded into nothingness.

Pastor Hongward pressed two fingers against his temple, attempting to steady his spiraling thoughts. Too much information at once, too many bitter truths to digest in a single sitting. With a heavy tone, he finally muttered, "Ugh... this conversation is a lot to take in. But at the very least, I now understand what’s truly happening in the world, while I’ve spent all this time focusing solely on serving the lower class."

Arkan Lawrence smirked faintly, lifting one shoulder in a casual shrug. "That’s how it is... this world is far more complicated than it seems." He brushed his chin thoughtfully before fixing Pastor with a piercing gaze. "But in the end, it’s up to you whether you choose to believe me or not."

Pastor averted his gaze for a moment, his eyes scanning the room before finally settling back on Arkan. Truthfully, during his journey to Lawrence’s domain, he had witnessed many things that gave him pause.

This city was small, far from the grandeur of the capital or the bustling trade hubs. Yet, there was something different about this place—something rare.

The people he had encountered along the way... they smiled.

Not the forced smiles masking suffering, nor the empty expressions of those who had lost all hope. They truly seemed happy. They worked, laughed, and lived with unwavering confidence. There was life in this place—a spirit that he had rarely seen elsewhere, not even in the heart of the kingdom itself.

And all of it, without a doubt, was because of Arkan Lawrence.

Pastor let out a long breath, allowing his thoughts to settle into place. In a calmer tone, he finally said, "Haah... alright. I’ve seen enough for myself." He met Arkan’s gaze with firm resolve, his expression making it clear that he had reached his decision. "So, tell me. What do you wish to know about the church?"

Arkan did not answer immediately. He simply observed Pastor for a few moments, as if assessing something. Then, with a voice so steady and weighted that it carried more significance than the word itself should, he spoke a single response.

"Everything."

For a moment, silence enveloped the room once more. The fire crackled softly in the background, as if to confirm that this conversation had only just begun.