Rain swallowed the saliva gathering in his mouth and forced out an awkward laugh as dozens of eyes remained fixed on him, clinging to him as though he were already on trial.
For the first time in his life, Rain chose to lie.
He slowly lifted his head from the ground and met the man's gaze directly, holding eye contact longer than he normally would, as if sheer determination alone could make the falsehood believable.
"Well…" he began, carefully smoothing his tone to hide the tremor threatening to betray him. "I brought this sword from home. W-when I saw this tower, I grabbed it… just in case I might need it."
The man let out a long sigh of disappointment, and many others followed, as though they were all arriving at the same crushing realization at once — that there would be no weapons for them, no hidden supply waiting to be claimed.
The tension that had been wrapped around Rain's shoulders loosened slightly as the weight of their suspicion seemed to lift. One by one, people stopped staring at him.
For a brief, fragile moment, he thought it was over.
Then the older man spoke again.
"Wait," he said slowly, narrowing his eyes. "If that really is your sword… then is swordsmanship your hobby?"
A ripple of realization moved through the crowd.
Faces shifted from sadness to astonishment as they all arrived at the same conclusion at once.
"We're saved!" someone shouted from the back.
The older man didn't miss the shift in atmosphere. "If you've trained in swordsmanship," he continued, his voice growing firmer, "why haven't you gone to save those people?"
The question lingered.
Then the man delivered the words that sealed Rain's fate.
"Don't you think the only person here with a weapon should be the leader? Shouldn't you be the one to save them… and kill those monsters?"
Before Rain could even open his mouth to respond, another voice cut through the crowd.
"RAISE YOUR HAND IF YOU THINK THIS YOUNG MAN SHOULD PROTECT US!" the person shouted. "HE'S THE ONLY ONE WITH A WEAPON! IT JUST MAKES SENSE!"
For half a heartbeat, there was hesitation.
Then hands began to rise.
One after another.
Dozens of them.
At least fifty.
"Fuck…" Rain muttered under his breath.
How the hell did this happen?
There was a reason Rain had always avoided lying. It wasn't only because he believed it was wrong, though he did. It was because he understood something most people ignored: lies did not remain small. A single falsehood required another, and then another, until the original lie became buried beneath a mountain of fabrications.
Now they believed he was a trained swordsman.
A leader.
A savior.
Rain didn't even have the courage to say, "It was a lie."
He couldn't force out the words, "I've never trained a day in my life."
When he looked at their faces, he saw something that twisted his chest in a way he couldn't quite understand. The anger that had once been directed at him had transformed into awe — into hope. They were looking at him as though he were already a hero stepping out of a story.
And a shameful part of him liked it.
He liked the way their expressions changed when they looked at him. He liked the respect. The expectation. The belief.
But Rain knew the truth.
He wasn't a leader.
He wasn't a warrior.
He wasn't even confident enough to admit he had lied.
As the weight of their raised hands settled over him, a single thought pressed heavily against his mind:
Had he just doomed himself?
What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to do?
Rain would have been lying to himself if he claimed he wasn't terrified. Walking alone into the unknown to face creatures that had already dragged several people to their deaths felt less like bravery and more like volunteering for execution.
He had never swung a weapon in his life.
Not once.
Everything he knew about swordsmanship came from movies, television, and the pages of books where heroes moved with effortless precision and impossible grace. But stories did not teach muscle memory. They did not teach balance, timing, or the weight of real steel biting into real flesh.
Even now, the sword felt wrong in his hand.
Too heavy.
Too unfamiliar.
His grip was stiff, his wrist tense, his shoulders subtly raised. The weapon didn't feel like an extension of his body the way it did for fictional warriors. It felt like an object he was borrowing — something that didn't belong to him.
The cheers, the raised hands, the hopeful eyes — they had chosen him as their protector.
But Rain knew a truth they didn't.
If he stepped into that forest alone, he wouldn't be a hero.
He would be prey.
The man glanced at the sea of raised hands and nodded with finality. "Well… then it's settled. This young man will be our new leader."
A murmur of approval rippled through the crowd, quickly transforming into relieved smiles. Some even straightened their posture, as if the mere existence of a "leader" had already pushed the danger farther away.
"Do you have any words you want to say… as the leader?" a girl asked from somewhere within the mass of bodies, her tone curious and almost hopeful.
"Words… to speak?" Rain echoed quietly, scratching the back of his head as if the gesture alone could ease the tightness building in his chest.
He forced his breathing to remain steady and let his gaze drift past the crowd, settling on the young woman and the young man who stood apart beneath the tree. Their weapons were no longer visible. They had likely put them away to avoid drawing attention — to avoid becoming targets the way rain had.
Rain searched their faces for guidance. For a signal. For anything that might tell him what he was supposed to do.
All he truly wanted to say was simple:
They should be the leaders.
Those two understood more than anyone else here. They knew how to obtain weapons. They had reacted to the system without confusion. There was an awareness in them that the others lacked.
They were more qualified than he would ever be.
Rain's chest tightened as he considered exposing them. Telling everyone the truth would shift the weight off his shoulders instantly. The crowd would turn. The questions would redirect. The expectations would move to someone more capable.
But the memory of their earlier expressions stopped him.
The fear in their eyes when he had almost spoken.
The subtle, desperate shake of their heads.
Now their faces were calmer, almost composed — yet beneath that calm he could still see the tension lingering. They were relieved that he had lied, but definitely not fully relieved.
There had to be a reason they wanted it that way.
Rain swallowed.
It wouldn't be right to expose them.
He didn't want to throw them into conflict. Rain could already visualize what everyone would say — questions like, "How did you two know that?" or "Do you guys know where we are?" They would be suffocated by endless demands for answers.
It was true that those same questions lingered in Rain's own mind. But he didn't want to drag the girl who had told him how to get the sword into arguments — or worse, into danger.
Rain slowly turned back to the crowd, feeling the weight of their anticipation press down on him once more.
If he spoke now, whatever he said would shape what happened next.
Rain cleared his throat, trying to sound professional—like a real leader. In the end, he sounded exactly the same as always.
"I-I'll rescue the people who went deep into the forest."
He swallowed hard as sweat began to bead across his forehead.
"I'll… um…" Rain scratched the back of his head. "I'll lead all of you… because I'm a professional in swordsmanship."
For a moment, the entire crowd went silent.
Then smiles began to spread across their faces. Murmurs of relief and happiness rippled through the group.
Some of them even turned to praise the man who had suggested Rain as their leader, thanking him for the decision.
Rain practically collapsed beneath a tree, its branches casting shade over him as it shielded him from the harsh sun. The tension that had gripped everyone earlier seemed to have faded, at least for now. Many of them were calmer, whispering among themselves, as if simply having someone take charge had eased their fears.
After a few minutes passed, Rain pushed himself back to his feet.
Without another word, he began walking deeper into the forest alone.
Behind him, the others started cheering him on — loud, exaggerated encouragement that reminded him uncomfortably of cheerleaders at a football game. Their voices followed him through the trees as he walked farther away from the group.