The Hidden Extra: The Lazy Prince Refuses to Ascend The Throne Chapter 650 Dinner

Deep into the night…

"What do you think? Am I handsome?"

Aldrian positioned himself before the mirror, flashing a smug grin.

"You're far too narcissistic. It's truly disgusting," the voice replied icily.

Aldrian ignored it completely. To him, his looks surpassed those of his brothers and sisters by a mile—or so he convinced himself, reality be damned.

Content with his reflection at last, he adjusted his attire and headed for Seira's chambers. His goal tonight: make her his own.

A chilling spark ignited in his gaze as he envisioned the scheme unfolding.

The voice had proposed brute force as one option.

He aimed to exploit a moment of Seira's vulnerability, bed her, and bind her fate—ensuring she had no escape but to wed him.

Aldrian recognized the brutality and vileness of it. Seira would likely despise him forever.

Yet desperation clawed at him; instinct screamed that skipping this night meant losing everything, with Seira vanishing beyond reach.

From his pocket, he fished out a small vial, no bigger than his thumb, filled with potion.

This brew would leave any drinker feeble and helpless. Shockingly, his mother had supplied it—and endorsed his twisted plot.

She'd even suggested: "If possible, use a recording device and keep it as evidence. That way, Seira won't be able to escape your grasp."

Though it gnawed at his conscience, Aldrian saw it as the surest path to securing her in the future.

He drew in a steadying breath, quieted his pounding heart, and tucked the vial away once more.

Arriving at Seira's door, he rapped lightly, mouth opening to speak—only for the door to creak open by itself.

Seira stood there, clad in a breathtaking black gown.

"Seira, you…" Aldrian's eyes bulged, his stare locked in place.

The strapless gown revealed her snowy, slender neck and a teasing glimpse of cleavage.

Black opera gloves sheathed her arms from fingertips to elbows.

Her locks were styled in a sophisticated double-twist crown braid, ideal for her.

A delicate white necklace graced her throat, while bracelets and rings adorned her right hand. Remarkably, it all came together without ostentation—she exuded natural poise.

The gown's skirt flowed generously, yet restrained—befitting a dinner ensemble, not a ballgown.

"What's wrong?" Seira's serene tone snapped him from his trance.

"Ah! Nothing…" Aldrian rubbed his neck sheepishly, offering an awkward grin. "I… I was just stunned by your beauty."

It was a fumbling praise—one that might make most ladies scoff.

But Seira merely beamed softly and dipped her head.

"Thank you. Let's go."

Aldrian's expression lit up. "Right! Let's go!"

Together they strolled toward the palace gates, oblivious to the shadowy figure observing them in silence.

***

Altheris served as the capital of the Ancient Kingdom of Eron, the pulsing core of the realm and its most vibrant, splendid metropolis.

Structures there had endured meticulous preservation across millennia. Their style evoked antiquity without drabness—they gleamed almost pristine.

This unique allure distinguished Altheris from the heart cities of other continental realms or empires.

Folk bustled through their routines with cheerful faces. Despite the palace uproar days prior, urban life flowed undisturbed.

Right then, an elegant carriage drawn by a pair of noble white steeds clip-clopped along the central avenue.

Onlookers instantly recognized its origin: the royals.

"The royal family's carriage, huh? Not a sight we get daily."

"Yeah. After that night's mess, I figured they'd hole up, but nope—strutting out boldly."

"Shh! Mind your tongue! Want to end up dead?"

Murmurs rippled among the throng. Resentment toward the elite nobles ran deep among the masses.

The Ancient Kingdom of Eron operated unlike others. Royals wielded unchallenged authority, beyond reproach. Noble houses held no true influence.

Thus, many aristocrats covertly fanned anti-royal rumors.

Compounding this, certain ministers and courtiers indulged caprices, stoking the brewing flames.

Gulvar's concerns weren't unfounded. Left unchecked, this simmering unrest would inevitably erupt.

Suddenly, the carriage halted before a lavish eatery smack in the city's core.

A servant hastened over to swing open the door.

Soon, Aldrian alighted, his face beaming with assurance.

He extended his right hand within, and Seira stepped forth with fluid grace.

She displayed no aversion to his grasp, sparking elation in Aldrian.

Previously, Seira had spurned every overture, fueling his doubts and irritations.

This occasion differed sharply. Her acceptance hinted she was warming to his proximity, at least somewhat.

Abruptly, Seira withdrew her hand and glided into the restaurant.

Aldrian's grin stiffened, awkwardness thickening the air.

"Ahem!" He coughed, then fixed the nearby footman with a frosty look. "Thank you."

Saying no more, he trailed after Seira.

The venue dazzled with timeless chandeliers dangling overhead.

Gentle illumination fostered a warm, dimly lit ambiance ideal for dining.

The manager promptly welcomed Seira and Aldrian.

"Good evening, Your Highness," he greeted.

Rugard was the establishment's overseer.

Encountering nobility like Aldrian thrilled him, knees nearly buckling in anticipation.

Aldrian's booking had been anticipated, yet facing the crown prince firsthand buzzed Rugard, promising commendations from bosses.

"Thank you," Aldrian replied evenly. "Is the table ready?"

"Yes, Your Highness. This way, please."

Rugard bowed faintly and guided them to the reserved spot.

Shortly after their departure, two more patrons entered, hailed by staff.

"Nolan, VIP section or regular?" Alina inquired gently.

Nolan rubbed his chin. "VIP. Far cozier."

"Alright," Alina agreed, directing the server to the private lounge.

Unknown to her, Nolan's mouth curved into a subtle smirk as he eyed the pair vanishing ahead.