The Hidden Extra: The Lazy Prince Refuses to Ascend The Throne Chapter 1: The Nightmare (Prologue)

"Doctor, I beg you, please save my fiancé! Do whatever is necessary!"

A beautiful woman stood within the hospital ward, weeping inconsolably.

Her gaze remained locked upon the handsome youth lying motionless on the bed.

His situation was dire; his attire was shredded, and dark stains of blood marked the numerous injuries across his body.

"Please, Miss, try to remain composed. We are doing everything in our power to save him."

Though the physician attempted to soothe her, his efforts were entirely futile.

She seemed deaf to his words, her heart completely consumed by the agonizing sight of the young man.

"I implore you, Doctor... he is the one I love... please, save him..." She pleaded, her voice fractured, her face devoid of color, eyes dry of tears.

The doctor let out a soft sigh, casting a meaningful look toward the nurse nearby.

He offered a brief nod, a silent signal the nurse instantly understood.

She moved to escort the woman away, but the woman fought back, desperately attempting to break free.

"Release me! No! I must be by his side! Do not stop me!"

As her resistance grew increasingly frantic, the nurse called for assistance.

Another nurse rushed inside, and the two worked together to restrain the woman, firmly guiding her toward the exit.

"No! Ah! I want to stay with him!"

Her hysterical screams echoed as she was forcibly removed from the room by the nurses.

The doctor sighed again, observing the man's critical state.

"His physique is completely shattered. I doubt he can be saved," he murmured, his tone heavy with regret.

Unknown to him, a human spirit hovered nearby, observing the comatose man with a grim expression.

"So, I have truly perished," he whispered, gazing down at his own palms.

Upon closer inspection, the spirit appeared a perfect clone of the unconscious man.

The doctor's somber admission drew a wry smile from the spirit. "What a tragic conclusion."

Memories drifted back to those final hours. He had been navigating his commute home when a massive truck swerved from the opposite lane, broadsiding him while he waited at a red light.

The force of the collision crumpled his vehicle, yet his body had been shielded from being crushed by the high-end safety features of the car.

However, the internal trauma proved far too severe. He knew this was the end of the road.

He sighed as he looked toward the doorway, listening to the desperate cries of his fiancée.

"It is a pity I could not bid her farewell," he whispered, biting his lip. "I am sorry, Seira..."

Suddenly, a brilliant, blinding white light engulfed his spirit.

He watched as his hands slowly dissolved into luminous fragments, drifting upward toward the heavens.

He chuckled softly before letting his eyes wander toward the ceiling.

"If reincarnation exists, I beg of you, God... grant me a simple life in an ordinary family. I am weary of being the heir to a vast, demanding clan..."

Just as only his head remained, a gentle, ethereal voice resonated within his consciousness.

"Very well, your request shall be honored, Nolan Frey..."

In a heartbeat, his presence was entirely erased from the world.

At that precise moment, the electrocardiogram monitoring the bed produced a long, flat, piercing tone.

The doctor, poised to initiate his final efforts, froze, his eyes widening in pure horror as he stared at the readout.

"No... how could it happen so quickly?"

"Damn... that recurring dream again? It has been over a decade, yet it continues to plague me."

A handsome eighteen-year-old sat up on his bed, rubbing his temples with visible irritation.

Cold sweat clung to his shirt, and his hair, black as the midnight sky, was disheveled.

He sighed and turned his attention to the window, where the morning sun poured inside.

"That dream is becoming quite tiresome. When will I finally be free of it?" he muttered, wearing a cynical smile.

He was Nolan Frey, the soul who had perished in that fatal collision.

Following his demise, he had been reborn into this reality as one of the many princes of the Great Empire of Velmora.

Indeed, a prince—a status most would covet, though it held no appeal for him.

He had spent his previous life weary of the responsibilities tied to the Frey family, the largest and most influential dynasty in his former world, desiring only peace.

Instead of the tranquil life he sought, he found himself reincarnated as royalty.

He often suspected the god tasked with his soul's migration had blundered, saddling him with this princely birth.

Fortunately, he was the sixth prince, not the first! Consequently, his odds of ever sitting upon the throne were virtually non-existent.

Drawing in the crisp morning air, he stepped out of bed and approached the vanity mirror.

"Hmm... even with such a messy head of hair, I remain undeniably striking," he remarked with shameless confidence, nodding in approval.

Despite his annoyance at being a prince, he could not deny that his physical vessel was flawless.

His face was exceptionally attractive, defined by a sharp, masculine jawline.

His purple eyes, as deep and vivid as sapphires, stood in striking contrast to his flowing, midnight-black hair.

His posture was impeccable, showing a well-toned, muscular build.

If beauty were judged on a scale of one hundred, he was certain he would reach an easy 101.

Just as he indulged in his own vanity, a sharp rap sounded at his door.

"Brother, it is me, Elina! Are you up? Father has ordered the entire family to the throne room at once! There is an urgent announcement!"