The Hidden Extra: The Lazy Prince Refuses to Ascend The Throne
Chapter 50: Zarak’s Foolishness

Chapter 50: Zarak’s Foolishness

"Heh... So you really are that cunning, Zarak. I didn’t expect that. What do you think Father would say if he found out?"

Zarak’s body stiffened at the sound of the voice.

With a rigid movement, he turned to see Nolan standing there with his arms crossed.

A playful glint appeared in Nolan’s eyes as he slowly approached, raising one eyebrow in mockery.

"Nolan?!" Zarak jumped to his feet in alarm. "How did you get behind me? And how long have you been there?"

Nolan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he smiled casually.

"Does it really matter how or when I got here?" He replied with a shrug, then walked past Zarak’s left side and came to a stop.

Turning to face him directly, Nolan asked in a calm voice, "What I want to know is—what are you doing here? And why are you speaking with Marquis Orlan?"

Although his tone was relaxed, a subtle pressure radiated from Nolan’s body—strong enough to make Zarak instinctively take a step back.

But as he reminded himself that he was the Fourth Prince and the grandson of the Red Obsidian Trading House’s owner, his confidence slowly returned.

He crossed his chubby arms over his chest and snorted. "Why do you care if I talk to Marquis Orlan? He’s a guest of the palace—it’s only natural for me to welcome him and have a conversation."

Having said that, his expression eased, and he shot Nolan a dismissive look.

"Pfft." Nolan chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Fine, I won’t make a fuss about it. But tell me—why were you badmouthing me in front of Marquis Orlan? Trying to turn him against me? Make him keep his distance? Just say it straight. Otherwise, I’ll let the old man know everything."

Hearing that, Zarak’s anger flared once more. He hated Nolan more than anyone.

He was a constant thorn—arrogant, disrespectful, and oblivious to the rules. His stupidity and incompetence only made Zarak despise him more.

And now, that fool had the nerve to taunt and pressure him like this—something Zarak couldn’t tolerate.

"Yes, I mocked you," he said bluntly, without a hint of guilt. "But everything I said was true. You’re a foolish and useless prince. You constantly cause trouble and never follow palace rules. So what’s wrong with telling Marquis Caltheron the truth?"

He turned to Orlan with a flattering smile and asked, "Marquis, I know you’re a wise and intelligent man. Surely, you agree with me—don’t you?"

But instead of the agreement he hoped for, Orlan simply shook his head with a quiet sigh.

"What a fool..."

Zarak’s expression hardened. His face flushed red as he slammed the table with his right hand and snapped coldly, "What do you mean by that, Marquis Caltheron? Are you insulting me?"

Unfazed by his anger, Orlan stayed calm and said, "No, Prince Zarak. I’m not insulting you—but you are clearly a fool. Don’t you understand that what you just said is a grave offense?"

"A serious offense?" Zarak froze, eyes widening in shock.

Orlan continued casually, "Do you know why no one has ever dared to openly insult Prince Nolan, despite everyone knowing exactly how he is? It’s because there’s a strict rule against insulting members of the Imperial family. And even though you belong to that family as well, what you said still counts as an insult directed at Prince Nolan."

"Maybe the punishment will be slightly reduced because of your status, but you’ll still face severe consequences from His Majesty the Emperor. And don’t forget—the battle for the throne has already begun. If you’re punished now, your reputation and credibility will take a serious hit."

"Your supporters—especially those high-ranking nobles who once placed their hopes in you—might begin to reconsider."

His analysis was so sharp and thorough that even Nolan couldn’t help but be impressed.

This man is truly extraordinary, he thought, filled with admiration.

Leading the Marquis family was no task for an ordinary person.

Such a leader was shaped by rigorous education, strict discipline, and a profound understanding of noble principles.

Although Orlan’s words were essentially a threat, he delivered them with a refined and polite tone.

At the thought, Zarak trembled with fear. Like it or not, he had to admit that everything Orlan said was true.

He now understood why his siblings never spoke ill of Nolan, neither in private nor in public—because of the Empire’s strict rules.

He recalled the incident three days ago in the square, when he insulted the sixth concubine and was fined six million Sharn by his father.

Yesterday, his grandfather scolded him harshly for the loss. And now, he made the same foolish mistake again—this time against the very same person.

If his father had known, he would have faced severe punishment. And as Orlan warned, those who once had hopes for him would think twice and withdraw their support.

Bastard! How could I be so stupid? Zarak cursed himself bitterly.

If only he had a time machine, he’d go back five minutes and smack himself.

But that was impossible. Time couldn’t be reversed, and he urgently needed a way to avoid punishment.

Then suddenly, his eyes brightened as an idea sparked in his mind.

"Hahaha!" He laughed proudly. "Yes, you’re right, Marquis Orlan. But do you have any proof? Even if you and Nolan complained to Father, you wouldn’t be able to prove it, would you?"

His confidence surged as he shot Nolan a mocking glare.

Nolan: "..."

He already knew Zarak was foolish, but he hadn’t imagined his stupidity could be this extreme.

Nolan sighed softly and slipped a small, round, gold-colored recording device from his pocket.

With a press of a tiny button, Zarak’s mocking voice suddenly filled the air.

Zarak: "???"

"H-How do you have that magic device?" "H-How do you have that magic device?" He pointed at the device with a shaky hand.

The small device was a magical recorder crafted by the Blue Moon Trading House, capable of capturing sound through powerful embedded magic.

Its invention marked a revolutionary breakthrough in technology.

However, since the Blue Moon Trading House produced only a thousand units a year, it was incredibly rare.

In the past, his grandfather had tried to buy the recipe but was refused, which had infuriated him.

But there was little he could do—the Blue Moon Trading House was the strongest in the Empire, perhaps the entire continent.

They dominated the market, surpassing even the Red Obsidian Trading House in every sector. Challenging them was suicide.

And now, Nolan—that damn man—had this device, recording his every word and terrifying him.

"Tell me, what do you want?" Zarak growled through clenched teeth, desperation clear in his voice.

Nolan’s expression stayed calm, but a thin, cunning smile curved his lips, dripping with danger.

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