NOVEL'S EXTRA: I Will Die at the Peak-Chapter 25: Villagers (2)

A stir appeared near the dusty road at the edge of the horizon. At first, they looked like nothing more than a dot. Then, step by step, they drew closer; their shapes became clearer.

Jiho was walking in front—shoulders squared, expression calm as always. Behind him, women, men, children... Villagers of all ages moved forward with heavy steps.

Their clothes were tattered. Many wore garments that were torn, colorless, stiffened by dried mud. Some didn't even have shoes—just strips of cloth wrapped around their ankles, pretending to be feet.

The men's hair and beards had merged together—rough, graying, greasy. The women's gazes were blank and tired.

The children looked around with hungry eyes, but clung tightly to their mothers' skirts as they walked.

They were silent. Almost none of them had the strength to speak. Only the sound of their footsteps could be heard.

Ravien sat on a chair, watching them closely. Asogi stood tall just behind him. The papers on the table fluttered slightly with the wind.

The villagers slowly came to a stop in front of the square. The crowd had settled; more than two hundred people had gathered.

Some chose to remain standing, while others, whose legs could no longer support them, sank onto the stones. Their faces showed a mix of hesitation and expectation. No one spoke aloud—only scattered whispers echoed in the air.

An old man leaned forward, gripping his cane. He looked like he was studying the soil, but he was lost in thought. Next to him, a young woman with wind-blown hair clinging to her face whispered without taking her eyes off Ravien:

"They say he's going to give out food..."

A murmur spread through the crowd. Whispers grew, all eyes turned to Ravien. A thin young man, staring at the ground, asked quietly:

"Food? Who's giving it?"

The woman beside him leaned in and whispered, her voice barely audible: "That young man sitting at the front... the one they call 'lord.'"

People looked at one another, seeking affirmation with their eyes.

Not everyone accepted the idea so easily. There was always a reason behind such acts. Especially if it came from a noble... no one truly believed in kindness without a price.

But for some, questioning had no place. They simply stared at Ravien—with awe, with hesitation. Some were seeing a noble this close for the very first time in their lives.

A group of young women in their twenties had gathered at the edge of the crowd, stealing glances at Ravien and whispering among themselves. One of them murmured without taking her eyes off him:

"Look at that face... like an unreachable work of art."

The others shared a silent agreement for a moment. Then one tilted her head slightly, frowning:

"Seriously?" she said with sarcasm. "You think that face is going to feed you?"

Another woman smiled faintly, but her voice was tired:

"Even a pretty face is a kind of blessing... at least you get to dream for a few minutes."

One of them scoffed, her tone weary:

"I came here for food. Not to admire some pretty face."

A few people chuckled at that, but the laughter didn't last long. The heaviness of the moment quickly swallowed any joy. Some of the elders leaned forward, squinting at Ravien; many were surprised by how young he looked.

"He's really that young?" asked a gray-haired, hunched man, his voice filled with doubt and wonder.

The woman beside him shook her head slowly:

"I was expecting someone in his forties, with a fat belly. Aren't most nobles like that?"

The man grunted. "Hmph... and arrogant too, with full bellies."

The woman lowered her head and stared at the ground. "I've never seen a noble before," she said softly. "Only heard stories. They always say they're fat and flashy."

Her words were swallowed by the crowd, but many shared the sentiment. She had never seen a noble in her life. Everything she knew came from tales passed from one mouth to another: Nobles were usually fat, pompous, and already full.

But Ravien was different from the tales.

He was young, composed, and striking in appearance. His long, straight crimson hair flowed lightly in the wind, and his pale skin made him seem almost like someone from another world among the dusty, worn-out crowd.

The dark, simple yet meticulously crafted clothes he wore shone like nobility in the sea of ragged gazes.

But most of all—his eyes.

There was a sharpness in them, a resolve that far exceeded his years. When he looked at the crowd, it felt like he was reading through every single person.

His very presence had cast a spell over them. Asogi still stood tall behind him, unmoving, but no one noticed him anymore. All attention was fixed on Ravien.

---

(POV: Ravien)

Hundreds of people stood before me... Most of them exhausted, covered in dust. Their eyes were weary, their faces pale.

They came here with hope—in search of a sack of food.

But I'm not here just to hand out flour and dried legumes.

Right now, all eyes are on me. They wait in silence. Unsure of what I'll say.

And I won't give them grand words. That's not what they need.

They need honesty—not lies.

At least one person should finally speak the truth.

I rose from the chair. Slowly, but without hesitation. I took a few firm steps forward.

Asogi, as always, remained silent and motionless behind me. But no one looked at him.

All eyes were locked on me.

I raised my voice. I didn't shout, nor did I soften it. I simply spoke with clarity.

"Listen carefully. I'll speak plainly."

There was a brief silence.

A light breeze passed through; dry leaves rustled among the stones.

My long, red hair danced with the wind. A few strands blew across my face before falling onto my shoulder.

"I haven't come here just to hand out supplies. Yes, you'll receive them. Today and tomorrow. But that's only the beginning."

I paused. Some heads in the crowd bowed slightly, others straightened just a little.

"I want to build a new city in this valley—on the empty lands you see here. Not just houses and stone walls, but something more.

A system... A solid beginning, different from the old ways."

A murmur spread. Some immediately began whispering. Some looked confused. Others didn't know what to think. But the eyes... they were still on me.

"I can't do this alone. I need you.

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Not just your labor—but your presence. I want you to become the people of this land."

There were doubts in their eyes. Questioning glances. I saw them all.

But I didn't stop.

"In return, I'll give you food, shelter, security, and work.

This isn't charity. This is an offer. A clear and honest agreement."

My tone remained steady, though my words softened just a bit.

"If anyone has questions, ask now. I will answer."

Silence fell again.

No one asked anything. No objections. But something in the air had shifted—the stillness had turned into careful curiosity.

People didn't look away, but no one wanted to be the first to speak.

Still, I waited.