Don't Want to Be Ordinary Even Though I'm an Extra Character-Chapter 57: [56] Bonds Forged in Blood

-Third Person POV-

The morning air buzzed with activity near the wine storage facility. Another shipment was due, and by midday, wagons would arrive to collect the fine wine Arkan had produced. Amid the bustling preparations, Arkan and Rainer were busy loading wooden crates filled with bottled wine.

"How did it go? Did you succeed?" Rainer asked, breaking the silence as he lifted one of the crates near Arkan.

Arkan knew what he was referring to—his meeting with Sarasota. "Yes," Arkan replied curtly, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Now we wait for their response. By the way, can you grab my trade ledger from my room? I forgot to bring it here."

"Of course," Rainer said without hesitation. He set the crate down and headed into the warehouse, heading for the room where the ledger was kept.

Arkan watched Rainer’s figure disappear from sight. Once he was sure Rainer was gone, he sat on one of the wooden crates and exhaled heavily. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a leather pouch containing his handmade cigarettes.

Lighting one, he closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the faint aroma of tobacco as it mixed with the crisp morning air. Wisps of smoke curled upward, blending into the warm sunlight streaming into the area.

His reprieve was short-lived.

"Were you waiting for me?"

Arkan nearly jumped. The voice came suddenly from behind him, with no sound of footsteps or movement to give warning. Turning quickly, he saw a man standing there—eyes narrow, sharp, and judgmental.

Despite his surprise, Arkan quickly regained his composure. "Yes," he said as he exhaled the last puff of his cigarette. "I knew you’d come."

He deliberately used the word "you" in the plural instead of "you" singular. He knew Sarasota wasn’t a one-man show but a shadowy network operating as one cohesive mist in the night.

The man’s narrowed eyes tightened further as if peeling away layers of deception. "Hmm, you’re quite perceptive," he said in a low tone, rich with assessment. He stepped forward, studying Arkan, who remained seated on the crate.

"So, have you accepted my proposal?" Arkan asked, his tone steady though his heart beat slightly faster.

The man didn’t respond right away. Instead, his gaze flicked to the cigarette Arkan held before returning to meet his eyes. The tension hung in the air, sharp as a drawn blade.

"Your offer is intriguing," the man finally said, his voice measured and cautious. "But it depends. Do you truly have the information you claim? That ledger... it’s not something many outside the shadows should know about."

Arkan blew out a slow stream of smoke and shrugged nonchalantly. "I do know enough about the ledger. Would you like to hear how I came by this information?"

The man gave a faint, knowing smile. "If you’re feeling generous, I’m certainly interested. But I doubt you’ll share it so easily."

"You know I won’t," Arkan replied, snuffing out his cigarette against the ground with the heel of his boot.

The man’s expression darkened, his tone shifting to something more severe. "Listen, this is no small gamble for us. That ledger holds unparalleled value to our group. For a century, across three generations, we’ve scoured every corner of the continent and found only whispers. And then you, a mere merchant, casually mention it. How do we know this isn’t a ploy?"

Arkan said nothing for a moment, his gaze fixed on the empty air just ahead of the man, as though replaying a memory in his mind.

He recalled the details from the novel. The ledger... it was in Volume Six. Hassan’s records, a legacy passed down through a bloodline with ties to Hassan-i Sabbah, were held by a mysterious figure in a Middle Eastern-like setting.

But he knew better than to share all of this at once.

That information was his asset—a card to be played for leverage. Hiring Sarasota wasn’t cheap, especially for what might seem like a trivial task, such as investigating Baron Derren. If Arkan could barter the information for more significant assistance, he needed to seize the opportunity.

"Your doubts are reasonable," Arkan finally said, adopting a relaxed tone. "But I’m not here to waste your time. I understand the value that ledger holds for your group. I wouldn’t have mentioned it otherwise."

The man’s eyes sharpened further as he scrutinized Arkan. "Then tell me—what do you really want from us? Investigating a Baron? That kind of task isn’t worth trading information as significant as this."

A faint smile tugged at Arkan’s lips, though his eyes remained unwaveringly serious. "I want to ensure that we start this relationship on the right foot—with trust. Prove to me that you can handle this issue, and I’ll provide you with a fragment of the information you seek. Not all of it, of course, but enough to show you I’m not playing games."

The man didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he studied Arkan in silence for a few moments before finally nodding slowly. "Very well. We’ll play along with your game. But remember, if this is a trap..."

"I’m not foolish enough to try and deceive you," Arkan interrupted firmly.

The man watched him for another moment, then turned and began to walk away, his footsteps soft but deliberate.

Before fully disappearing into the shadows, he glanced back one last time. "You’ll hear from us soon. Be ready."

Arkan let out a slow breath, relief washing over him. His gamble was dangerous, but in this world, fortune favored the bold.

"Let’s hope I don’t regret this step," Arkan murmured to himself, rising from the crate.

-Third Person POV-

In the bustling streets of Vryse, a tired-looking man pulled a wooden cart piled with fresh meat. His slow pace and weary expression suggested his labor was routine, requiring little thought or care.

But when another man approached and slipped him a folded piece of paper, his demeanor shifted.

The man opened the paper carefully, scanning the message within. A faint smile crossed his face, one rich with intrigue.

"So, he’s not just another merchant, is he?" he mused quietly to himself.

"Hurry up, would you? Move aside!" an impatient voice barked from behind.

Snapping out of his thoughts, the man turned and bowed slightly. "Apologies! Please, go ahead." 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

He shifted his cart to the side, allowing a wagon behind him to pass. Then, without missing a beat, he pushed the cart toward a modest but tidy clothing shop.

Inside, the elderly shopkeeper nodded silently at him, asking no questions, as though the man’s presence was expected.

The man made his way to the back, exchanging his tattered clothes for a black cloak with fine embroidery. The exhausted laborer was gone—replaced by someone exuding quiet authority.

He stepped out of the shop and abandoned the cart, his strides purposeful as he merged into the lively streets of Vryse.

"Let’s see if you truly know what you’re talking about," he murmured, disappearing seamlessly into the city’s shadows.

-Third Person POV-

That morning, the wine storage facility buzzed with activity. The next shipment was due, and wagons were expected by midday to collect Arkan’s premium wine. Amid the hustle, Arkan and Rainer worked together, moving crates packed with wine bottles.

"So, did it work? Were you successful?" Rainer asked, breaking the silence as he lifted a crate closer to Arkan.

Arkan understood immediately. Rainer was asking about the Sarasota meeting. "Yes," Arkan replied briefly, wiping sweat from his brow. "Now we just wait for their response. By the way, can you grab my trade ledger from my room? I forgot to bring it here."

"Sure," Rainer said, without hesitation. He set the crate down and headed into the warehouse, heading toward the room where the ledger was stored.

Watching Rainer’s retreating back, Arkan waited until he was sure Rainer was out of sight. Then, he sat on one of the crates, exhaling deeply. From his pocket, he pulled out a leather pouch containing his handmade cigarettes.

Lighting one, he closed his eyes briefly, savoring the faint aroma of tobacco mixed with the crisp morning air. Wisps of smoke curled lazily upward, merging with the warm sunlight streaming into the area.

But his quiet moment didn’t last long.

"Were you waiting for me?"

Arkan nearly jumped at the voice, which came suddenly from behind without so much as a sound of footsteps. He turned quickly to see a man standing there. Narrow eyes, sharp and piercing, examined him like a blade.

Though surprised, Arkan quickly regained his composure. "I was," he said, exhaling the last puff of his cigarette. "I knew you’d come."

He deliberately used "you" in the plural rather than singular. Sarasota wasn’t a one-man operation but a vast, interconnected shadow network.

The man’s eyes narrowed further as if attempting to peel back Arkan’s exterior and scrutinize his intentions. "Hmm. You’re perceptive," the man finally said, his tone low, analytical. Stepping closer, he studied Arkan, who remained seated casually.

"So, did you accept my proposal?" Arkan asked evenly, hiding the slight tension building in his chest.

The man didn’t respond immediately. Instead, his gaze flicked to the cigarette in Arkan’s hand before meeting his eyes again. The silence was heavy, like the taut pull of a bowstring.

"Your offer is intriguing," the man said at last, his voice measured and guarded. "But whether we proceed depends. Do you truly have what you claim? That ledger—few outside our circle even know of its existence."

Arkan blew out the last trail of smoke and shrugged as if unbothered. "I know enough. Would you like me to tell you how I obtained the information?"

The man smirked faintly, though the look in his eyes was calculating. "If you’re feeling generous, I wouldn’t mind. But I suspect you won’t make it that easy."

"You’re right about that," Arkan replied, flicking the cigarette to the ground and stamping it out.

The man’s expression turned darker as he leaned in slightly. "Let me make this clear: this is no minor gamble for us. That ledger is more than words on paper—it’s the foundation of our history. For over a century, three generations of Sarasota have searched every corner of this continent without finding even a trace. And now, a merchant like you casually drops its name. Why shouldn’t I slit your throat right here for wasting my time?"

Arkan met the man’s gaze unflinchingly, his mind racing.

The ledger... Volume Six. Hassan’s records—passed down through a bloodline tied directly to Hassan-i Sabbah. A descendant hidden within the eastern territories.

Arkan knew better than to spill everything at once. The information was a card he couldn’t afford to play without securing proper leverage.

"I don’t blame you for doubting," he finally said, his tone calm but deliberate. "But I didn’t come here to play games. I know what the ledger means to your group. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have mentioned it."

The man remained silent for a moment, his gaze like daggers aimed at Arkan. Finally, he said, "What is it you really want from us? Surveillance on a Baron? A job like that hardly seems worth bartering such information."

A faint smirk played at Arkan’s lips, though his eyes remained serious. "Consider this an opportunity to build trust. Prove you can handle this matter, and I’ll provide a fragment of what you’re after—not all, but enough to show you I’m serious."

The man studied Arkan a moment longer before nodding slowly. "Very well. We’ll play your game. But understand this—if you’re deceiving us..."

"I’m not foolish enough to try and cheat Sarasota," Arkan interrupted confidently.

The man gave a faint, enigmatic smile before retreating into the shadows of the alley.

"We’ll contact you when it’s done," he said, his steps as silent as the shadows he disappeared into.

Arkan sighed deeply, allowing himself a brief moment of relaxation. Let’s see how they handle this, he thought before turning and heading back to the warehouse, where Rainer would no doubt be waiting.

-Arkan Lawrence-

After sending off the wagon bound for the western territories, I returned to my office. It wasn’t long before Rainer entered, his expression unusually grim. I could tell he wanted to discuss something.

Leaning back in my chair, I folded my arms casually. "You’re going to ask about the bandits raiding our goods, aren’t you?"

"Yes," Rainer replied bluntly. "I think we should—"

I held up a hand, cutting him off. "No. It’s too risky to send you out to deal with this. Not because I doubt your abilities, but because problems like these require a different approach. You’re not suited for it."

Rainer frowned, clearly dissatisfied with my answer. "Then why are you so calm? What exactly are you planning?"

I smiled faintly. "Because I know what I’m doing. Remember the Sarasota group I mentioned? They’re the ones who will resolve this for us."

Rainer’s expression remained skeptical. "I’ve heard rumors about their reputation, but..."

"Your doubts are valid," I said, my tone growing serious. "But this is a step we must take. Understand this, Rainer—having them as allies is an investment for the future. This world is full of surprises, and we’ll need allies like them to survive."

I smirked, a quiet confidence radiating from me that seemed to unsettle Rainer. He shifted uncomfortably, almost trembling.

"What?" I asked, puzzled by his reaction.

"N-nothing!" he stammered, quickly changing the subject. "By the way, your outfit... it’s quite impressive."

I chuckled, realizing he was fishing for a new topic. "Of course. I take pride in my style," I said, glancing down at my tailored, 19th-century-inspired attire. Elegant yet understated, it reflected the refined sensibilities of my previous world.

People often stared at me—initially puzzled, then awestruck. Whether they were nobles or commoners, curiosity always filled their gazes when I walked past.

"You, on the other hand," I added, smirking, "could use an upgrade, Rainer. If you’re going to stay by my side, we need to maintain appearances. At least don’t look like an adventurer fresh out of the forest."

Rainer scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Maybe... later," he muttered.

I shrugged, amused by his discomfort. Still, I knew this was only the beginning of the grand moves I was making. The hardest part was yet to come.

-Third Person POV-

In the dark forest near the western coastline, the pale moonlight illuminated a grisly scene. Blood pooled across the ground, glinting faintly in the moon’s glow. Corpses were strewn between the trees, their lifeless bodies testifying to the brutality that had just unfolded.

One bandit, a trembling young man clutching a bleeding shoulder, crawled backward in desperation. His face, battered and bloodied, was etched with raw terror as he stared at the figure approaching him—a black-clad shadow whose dagger still dripped with fresh blood.

"P-please, stay back! Don’t kill me!" the bandit sobbed.

The figure paused momentarily, tilting their head as if considering the plea. But after a breathless second, they resumed their advance. Each step echoed like a death knell, breaking the eerie silence of the forest.

"I... I don’t know anything! I was just following orders—just—"

The blade slashed in a swift, merciless arc, silencing him forever. Blood sprayed into the air before the bandit crumpled to the cold, damp earth.

The black-clad figure stepped back, avoiding the spreading pool of blood. They stared dispassionately at the body, as if it were no more significant than any other mundane task.

"That’s the last one," the figure muttered softly, their voice nearly lost in the rustling leaves and whispering wind.