Don't Want to Be Ordinary Even Though I'm an Extra Character-Chapter 105: [104] Prince Of Somara

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As Rainer and Marcel ascended the staircase toward Arkan’s office, the sound of their footsteps echoed softly along the stone corridors of the castle.

The air inside was noticeably cooler than outside, carrying the faint scent of old parchment and burning pinewood from the fireplace.

Upon reaching the large door engraved with the Lawrence crest, Rainer raised his hand and knocked with a slow yet firm rhythm.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then—

"Enter."

Arkan’s voice came from within—clear and calm, though tinged with a hint of weariness.

Rainer pressed down on the handle and pushed the door open slowly.

As the door swung wide, Arkan’s office unfolded before them.

Unlike the lavish chambers of most nobles, this office was modern and pragmatic.

There were no excessive decorations—only tall wooden shelves filled with scrolls, strategic maps, and thick books written in rare, foreign languages not commonly found in this world.

A large blackwood desk stood at the center, cluttered with open contracts, a carelessly placed quill, and a half-empty teacup.

Behind the desk, Arkan sat in a relaxed posture, leaning back in his chair.

His eyes were slightly dull, a sign that he had likely endured a long night of endless work.

However, the moment he saw them enter, his expression shifted slightly—relaxed, yet still full of vigilance.

"Ah... I’m relieved you made it back safely, Rainer."

His tone was sincere, but devoid of unnecessary dramatics.

Then, his gaze shifted toward Marcel.

"And welcome, Lord Marcel."

Arkan offered a faint smile, but there was something in his eyes as he observed Marcel—something subtle, as if he were quietly assessing him in a way that was impossible to fully read.

Marcel, who was usually full of confidence, suddenly felt like he was being studied by a calm predator.

Yet instead of feeling uneasy, he let out a quiet chuckle and stepped forward without hesitation.

"Hoo... So Lord Lawrence is quite polite, huh?"

His smile was laced with amusement, as if he was enjoying the atmosphere.

Rainer, on the other hand, simply shut the door behind them without saying a word, letting the conversation unfold naturally.

The room was bathed in golden sunlight filtering through the large windows behind Arkan.

From his seat, he had a clear view of Lawrence City sprawling below the castle, bustling with the rhythm of daily life.

However, his attention remained fixed on the two men before him.

Marcel, with his relaxed posture and sharp, analyzing gaze, stepped closer to the desk.

Meanwhile, Rainer maintained a disciplined stance, waiting silently without interfering.

For a brief moment, an unspoken tension lingered in the room—each person silently assessing the other.

Finally, Arkan broke the silence with a light, yet firm voice.

"Yes, even as a newcomer, I must learn proper etiquette."

He leaned back in his chair, glancing at Marcel with a calculating look.

Then, with a composed and formal gesture, he introduced himself.

"A pleasure to meet you. I am Arkan Lawrence, Lord of the Lawrence territory. It’s an honor to make the acquaintance of the Prince of Somara..."

He paused briefly, as if weighing the name on his tongue.

"Marcel Vonhof Somara."

Marcel raised an eyebrow, then smirked slightly.

But for a brief moment—his gaze shifted.

The easygoing amusement faded, replaced by something sharper.

His once-relaxed hand slowly clenched.

He glanced out the window, toward the distant horizon—

As if seeing something that only he could see.

Then, in a voice steady yet carrying an undeniable weight, he replied—

"Somara is nothing more than ruins and history now."

He turned back to Arkan, locking eyes with him, his expression far more serious.

"Just call me Marcel Vonhof, Lord Arkan."

Marcel leaned back in his chair, his posture casual, yet his gaze remained sharp, guarded.

Arkan studied him for a moment before nodding slowly.

"I see... You’ve both traveled a long way. Please, have a seat."

He gestured toward the chairs in front of his desk.

Rainer and Marcel each pulled out a chair and sat down, facing Arkan.

As they took their seats, Marcel briefly scanned the room—the disorganized stacks of documents, the open books scattered haphazardly on the shelves, and even the half-finished strategic map pinned to the wall, marked with rough notes and incomplete planning sketches.

The atmosphere of the office exuded diligence and determination, yet also carried a hint of chaos—reflecting someone too occupied with greater matters to bother with trivial details.

Arkan sighed, leaning back in his chair, one hand resting casually on the desk.

"Apologies for the mess," he said. "I have too much work, and right now, I need someone experienced at my side."

Marcel studied him for a moment before smirking slightly.

He understood the underlying message in those words.

Arkan wasn’t just stating that he was busy—he was subtly hinting that he was looking for someone reliable in matters of administration and politics.

And that someone could very well be him.

But Marcel didn’t respond immediately.

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned forward slightly, his expression growing more serious.

"Arkan Lawrence."

His voice carried more weight than before.

"Rainer has told me a little about you."

Arkan raised an eyebrow but didn’t look surprised.

"Oh? And what did he say?"

Marcel tapped his fingers on his forearm as he considered his words before speaking.

"He told me that you were once just a middle-class commoner, someone who bought your nobility from Marquis Arleon, then built your own power base in this territory."

Arkan gave a faint smile, as if there was nothing to deny.

"Yes, that’s me... It was quite difficult at first."

However, before Arkan could continue, Marcel raised a hand, cutting him off.

"No, I’m not asking about the hardships you faced."

His eyes narrowed slightly, his tone sharpening.

"What I want to ask is—how did you know about me?"

The room suddenly fell into silence.

Rainer remained still, simply observing the exchange between the two men before him.

Arkan didn’t answer right away.

He merely stared at Marcel, then leaned back in his chair with a relaxed posture—

As if he was quietly enjoying his opponent’s reaction.

Yet, his gaze never lost its sharpness.

Marcel didn’t look away either, his expression filled with curiosity and a hint of wariness.

"Even my uncle—the last king of Somara—didn’t know that I was still alive."

He tapped his fingers against the desk, emphasizing his next words with deliberate intensity.

"So how could someone like you possibly know about me?"

Silence settled over the room once again.

Outside the window, a soft breeze rustled the silk curtains that adorned the office.

Arkan remained quiet—but his lips slowly curved upward.

A subtle smile.

Not mocking.

But the kind of smile worn by someone enjoying the situation. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

His eyes remained steady as he studied Marcel.

Because Arkan knew everything about Marcel Vonhof.

Not through investigations.

Not through secret informants.

But because he had once read about this man’s life.

This world was the setting of a novel—the last book he had read before falling asleep in his old life.

And when he had opened his eyes...

He was here.

A fictional world, now real.

Marcel Vonhof Somara was not a stranger to Arkan.

In the novel, Marcel was a pivotal character—one who played a major role in uncovering the dark truth behind Somara’s downfall.

In the original timeline, Marcel and Rainer were supposed to travel to the ruins of Somara to recover an important document.

But there, they would encounter the last king of Somara—Marcel’s uncle—who had been transformed into an undead.

A brutal battle was meant to unfold.

Rainer would fight the undead king, and Marcel would finally learn the painful truth about how his kingdom had fallen.

Arkan’s gaze flickered to the window, watching the wind ripple through the curtains.

That was the fate that should have happened.

But now... he was here.

Arkan turned back to Marcel, his expression calm, his confidence unwavering.

Then, in a voice steady yet undeniably convincing, he finally answered—

"Yes, I have a trusted informant."

For a moment, the room remained still.

Marcel studied Arkan carefully, his pupils slightly narrowing, as if trying to read through his expression.

"You expect me to believe that?" he asked, his tone heavier now, laced with quiet pressure.

But Arkan remained unfazed.

He didn’t flinch.

He didn’t shift in his seat.

He merely sat there—relaxed, yet unyielding.

His gaze locked onto Marcel’s, unwavering and resolute.

Not the gaze of someone simply making up a story.

But the gaze of someone who held absolute certainty.

As if he had known about Marcel’s existence long before they had ever met.

And that was what unsettled Marcel the most.

’This... is terrifying.’

He felt as if he was facing someone who had been watching his every move—without him ever realizing it.

That feeling...

It was familiar.

’This is just like when I faced my father... when he was completely serious,’ Marcel thought.

His fingers, which had been resting neatly on the desk, subtly clenched.

A reflex he didn’t even notice himself.

But Arkan remained composed.

After a few seconds of silence, he simply shrugged lightly and spoke with a casual ease—

"If you don’t believe me, that’s fine."

His voice was neutral, as if he truly didn’t care whether Marcel trusted his answer or not.

"Now, do you have anything else to ask before I make my request?"

Marcel let out a slow breath, scoffing lightly.

Yet his sharp gaze never wavered.

"Yes, I do."

He leaned back in his chair, still maintaining unwavering eye contact with Arkan.

"Tell me how you know about the events in Somara’s past."

His voice dropped slightly, carrying more weight.

"Because even I didn’t know what happened to my uncle before he changed."