Don't Want to Be Ordinary Even Though I'm an Extra Character-Chapter 102: [101] Marcel Vonhof (2)

-Third Person POV-

Rainer wasn’t entirely convinced that the man before him could be of any real help.

At first glance, Marcel Vonhof didn’t look like someone with expertise in administration or politics—if anything, he resembled a vagrant who had lost everything.

But what bothered Rainer even more was the way this man spoke.

His words were ambiguous, as if intentionally designed to be confusing.

Still, Rainer remained focused on his task.

He straightened his posture slightly, maintaining a professional stance, and spoke in a formal tone.

"I am an emissary from my associate—a newly established noble in Lurenthia, governing a territory in the northwest near the coast."

Marcel leaned back against the tree trunk, the wooden cup still in his grasp.

"Hooh..." he murmured as he took a sip. "And why are you looking for me?"

His gray eyes studied Rainer with keen interest, yet there was a trace of mischief in them as well.

Rainer paused, carefully choosing his words.

Arkan had already warned him about this man.

Marcel was adept at playing with words—one wrong move, and Rainer might unintentionally reveal more than he should.

A single mistake, and Marcel could turn the conversation in any direction he wanted.

’I need to be careful.’

Rainer observed the man’s expression before finally responding in a controlled tone.

"We need someone with a deep understanding of administration and politics."

Marcel raised an eyebrow but remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

Rainer didn’t give away too much information at once.

Instead, he let his words hang in the air, waiting to see how Marcel would react.

Silence stretched between them for a few seconds.

Then, Marcel smirked—a smile difficult to decipher.

"I see... But that still doesn’t explain one thing."

He lifted his cup slightly, gazing into the liquid inside as if trying to glimpse the future.

"Why me?"

His sharp gaze returned to Rainer, now more intense than before.

"There are plenty of people who understand politics and administration. Some of them even work in the royal court. But you... went out of your way to find me."

He slowly twirled the cup between his fingers, as if waiting for an answer that might amuse him.

"So, tell me, Sir Rainer..."

"What makes you think I’m the right man for this job?"

A soft night breeze carried the scent of damp earth and the steady flow of the river beneath the bridge.

The dim glow of the old lantern illuminated Marcel Vonhof’s face, revealing the rough lines of a man covered in dust, his unkempt beard adding to his weary appearance.

His gaze remained calm, yet there was something in his eyes—something that made him look like a man who had long abandoned hope.

Opposite him, Rainer sat upright, his hands resting on his knees, meeting Marcel’s gaze without flinching.

Silence.

Stillness.

The only sound was the soft crackling of the small campfire, consuming the dry twigs Marcel had gathered from the riverbank.

"You see?" Marcel finally broke the silence. "I’m nothing but a vagrant."

With a lazy motion, he lifted his wooden cup, stirring the warm liquid inside with a small wooden spoon.

"Hiring me for a bureaucratic position like that would only be a waste for you."

He let out a long sigh, as if bored with the conversation.

"You’d be better off looking for someone else."

Rainer remained silent, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Marcel’s rejection came too easily, too quickly—almost as if he had long since resigned himself to avoiding anything tied to his past.

But Rainer wasn’t someone who gave up easily.

He straightened his back, then finally spoke, his voice calm yet pressing.

"I don’t know why Arkan chose you either...

But he knows that you were once a crown prince who lost his kingdom."

Time seemed to freeze.

The fingers holding Marcel’s spoon suddenly stopped mid-stir.

The lantern’s glow reflected in his eyes, capturing the flicker of shock that surfaced for only a brief moment before disappearing behind a practiced mask of indifference.

In an instant, the atmosphere changed.

The campfire’s light flickered, casting shifting shadows over Marcel’s now unreadable expression.

He slowly lifted his gaze, staring at Rainer with empty eyes.

For several seconds, neither of them spoke.

Then—

"...What did you say?"

His voice was low, almost a dangerous whisper.

And then, without warning—

"Fu... Hahahaha!"

Marcel burst into laughter, his head tilting back as he laughed loudly.

His laughter was rough, raw—yet it held no real joy.

Rather, it sounded like the laughter of someone who had long given up on the world.

"What a joke! A prince? Me?"

He leaned back against the tree, still chuckling with a touch of sarcasm in his tone.

"If I were truly a prince, I wouldn’t have ended up like this, would I?"

His gaze drifted toward the slow-moving river, where the moon’s reflection shimmered on the surface like scattered fragments of glass.

"Leave."

Marcel’s voice turned flat and cold once more, as if this conversation meant nothing to him.

"You’re starting to annoy me, and I’m losing my mood."

Rainer tapped his finger against his knee once, twice, before finally speaking again.

"Aren’t you a coward?"

Marcel froze.

The air around them suddenly grew heavier.

His once-relaxed grip on the wooden cup tightened, fingers pressing into the rough surface with excessive force.

But Rainer wasn’t finished.

"Unable to avenge your own kingdom after being betrayed by your uncle?"

The campfire flared slightly higher, as if reacting to the sudden tension between them.

Marcel’s gaze darkened—dangerous, but not with empty threats—

Rather, because Rainer had just unearthed something he had buried deep within.

Hatred.

And an old wound that had never truly healed.

"...What did you just say?"

Marcel’s voice wavered slightly—not out of fear, but from restrained fury.

Rainer knew he had struck the most sensitive nerve.

Yet, instead of backing down, he met Marcel’s glare head-on, unwavering.

"Your uncle betrayed you, stole the throne, destroyed your kingdom..."

He pursed his lips as if deep in thought before continuing, his tone half-mocking.

"And here you are, living like a vagrant?"

He shook his head lightly and sighed.

"No wonder Arkan chose you."

KRAK.

The wooden cup in Marcel’s hand cracked, the sound of splintering wood piercing through the quiet night air.

"Shut your mouth."

His voice was low and heavy, carrying a genuine threat.

But Rainer showed not even the slightest hint of fear.

Instead, he let his lightning spear glimmer faintly, casting sharp reflections onto his cold expression.

Between the flickering firelight, Marcel’s gray eyes gleamed with a sharpness akin to a wolf cornered in its own den.

Yet beneath his anger... something else lurked.

Not just raw emotion, but the painful realization that Rainer’s words contained undeniable truth.

Silence suffocated the space between them, broken only by the soft crackling of the fire.

Marcel took a long breath, tilting his head back to gaze at the star-strewn sky.

His eyes were weary, yet beneath them lay something deeper than mere exhaustion.

"Yes... you’re absolutely right..." His voice was low and heavy, as if speaking to himself rather than Rainer.

"I’m a coward. I couldn’t do anything as my kingdom fell at my uncle’s hands. Ironic, isn’t it?"

He let out a bitter smile—not one of happiness, but of scars and resignation.

"Well... I was powerless."

Rainer studied his expression closely.

There was honesty in his words, yet something was still hidden.

He crossed his arms, his gaze locked onto Marcel.

"For some reason, you sound wise."

He tilted his head slightly before adding in a sharper tone.

"But... do you want revenge for your fallen kingdom?"

Marcel let out a dry chuckle—a bitter sound that felt more like a sigh of frustration.

"Heh... Against whom?"

He lowered his head, stirring the water in his cup with a wooden spoon, creating small ripples inside.

"Against those who are already dead?"

He smirked slightly, but his eyes remained hollow.

"My kingdom was destroyed by war. What’s the point of revenge now?"

Marcel took a deep breath before locking eyes with Rainer, his expression blank but carrying a nearly imperceptible tension.

"And also... against whom? For what?"

Rainer didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he observed the man before him with a calculating gaze.

Arkan had told him before—this man was no ordinary person.

Marcel could claim that he no longer cared for his homeland. He could dismiss vengeance as meaningless.

But deep inside, he wanted it.

He wanted revenge.

He wanted something to fight for.

He just didn’t know how—or perhaps... he was too afraid to admit it.

And now, Rainer only needed to create a small crack in his defenses.

With a faint smile, Rainer finally spoke.

"Then let me tell you something, Marcel."

The fire between them flickered, its shadows dancing across Rainer’s composed yet calculated face.

Marcel, who had seemed indifferent before, let out a short sigh—but he didn’t look away from Rainer.

However, the next words that left Rainer’s mouth changed everything.

"About what really happened to your kingdom... You must be curious, aren’t you?"

His tone was light, yet carried an undeniable weight.

"Why did your uncle—the man most loyal to the King, his own brother—suddenly change overnight after returning from a certain mission?"

Marcel didn’t move.

But Rainer saw the way he straightened his back slightly, his ears catching every word.

His outward demeanor remained composed, yet there was a subtle shift in the way he looked at Rainer.

He was starting to listen.

"Very well," Rainer continued, "this information comes from a highly reliable source."

He leaned forward slightly, making sure his words didn’t sound like mere speculation.

"Your uncle... did not betray his family by his own will."

The fire flickered once more, as if amplifying the weight of what came next.

"He was controlled by an organization known as—"

"The Evil God Cult."

Silence fell upon them.

For the first time, Marcel tensed.