CHAPTER 334: INTERROGATION AND TUG-OF-WAR (1)

"If you’ve realized it, then leave now." Nolan made a shooing motion. "Gather evidence first, then accuse someone. I’m still kind enough to let you go. Otherwise, I’ll report you to Father—let’s see how he punishes you."

Melinda’s expression darkened. His words were clearly a threat, but she couldn’t act on it. She was not in a position to challenge Nolan.

Besides, this young man had been hiding his abilities for years and should not be underestimated. Melinda also knew she was truly on the wrong side.

Had Ragan found out, she would have faced severe punishment.

Taking a deep breath, she snorted coldly and turned to walk away.

Her steps abruptly halted as she glanced back over her right shoulder.

"Don’t think I’ve cleared my suspicions of you. You’re still the prime suspect in Zarak’s death. If all the evidence points to you, don’t blame me for going all out," she threatened, her tone icy.

Without another word, she continued toward the entrance of the grounds.

Watching her retreating figure, Nolan merely smiled and shrugged.

What a stupid woman, he whispered softly.

Melinda had no idea that he already possessed evidence of her greatest crime—her affair with another man. He didn’t know who the man was yet, but if he reported it to his father, Melinda would be finished without a doubt.

After all, this was a serious matter. Zarak, who had been regarded as the fourth prince, was actually the son of another man. It was a grave dishonor to his father and the entire imperial family.

And don’t assume Melinda was innocent—far from it. Apart from his mother and Eliza’s late mother, the queen and other concubines all had questionable records.

Some used their power for personal gain—including Melinda. If Nolan remembered correctly, the Red Obsidian Trading House had uncovered a case in the past, and Belfor had exploited his daughter’s influence to sweep it under the rug.

In the end, the case vanished, leaving the victims to suffer without justice.

Still, Nolan was in no rush to kill her. She still had a bit of value left to extract. Once that was gone, then it would be her time to die.

A thin, cruel smile spread across his face. Anyone who saw it would surely be terrified, thinking him a true demon descended from hell.

"Is it done?" A soft voice came from behind. Nolan adjusted his expression and turned toward the source.

"It is, Mother. Sorry to disturb your leisure," Nolan said, forcing a small, embarrassed smile.

Elina and Rafine stepped out, walking behind Isabella.

"It’s okay." Isabella waved her hand and gently patted Nolan’s shoulder. "As long as it’s done, I can rest easy."

She returned to her seat and continued, "Oh, right. Your father asked you to come to his study. He said there’s something he wants to discuss. I don’t know what it is, but go. Don’t let him get angry—he’s already tired enough handling imperial affairs."

Her voice softened, full of affection. Nolan rolled his eyes slowly.

Although his mother always acted nonchalant and indifferent around him, only he knew she was actually deeply in love with the old man—like young people discovering their first love.

With a small nod, he replied, "I see. Then I’ll go first."

He turned to Elina and Rafine. "Please take care of Mother for a while, you two."

"Um!" Elina and Rafine nodded in unison.

Without another word, Nolan turned and walked away.

As soon as he disappeared from sight, Elina and Rafine returned to their seats.

"What do you think Father will talk to Brother about, Mother?" Elina asked, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.

Rafine stood and poured tea into their cups. Her ears twitched slightly, betraying her curiosity as she waited for Isabella’s answer.

Isabella was silent for a moment before replying, "I don’t know exactly what your father wants to talk to your brother about. But it seems important. Maybe..."

A small laugh escaped her lips as she looked up at the blue sky. "He’ll teach him a lesson for the foolishness he’s done before..."

...

Inside his study, Ragan sat with a grim expression. His eyes were cold, as if anger burned within him, yet he could not release it.

"Zarak... is dead? This is truly... shocking," he muttered softly, closing his eyes to suppress the fury that continued to flare.

As someone who had lived through the battle for the throne, he knew sooner or later this would happen. Even in his time, the struggle had been far more brutal—fifteen princes had competed.

And he had been the sixth prince, never considered a potential victor.

His first brother held great prestige and was beloved by the people; even their father was certain he would win.

The second, third, and fourth brothers were equally formidable, each blessed with exceptional talent, background, and ability.

Yet who would have imagined that the sixth prince—overlooked by everyone—would rise to claim victory?

He had defeated his first brother and all his siblings decisively.

But the cost had been immense—he had slain his siblings, even his father’s concubines, who could have challenged his claim to the throne.

Cruel as it may seem, that was the harsh reality he had to endure. Now, with the loss of one of his sons, the pain cut deeper than he had ever imagined.

"Huh..." He exhaled slowly and opened his eyes. "Lyra, come here."

Whoosh!

Lyra’s elegant figure, dressed in a black gown with a gray veil, appeared before him. She bowed her head. "What are your orders, Your Majesty?"

"Find the culprit who killed Zarak, and announce that the palace will conduct a thorough investigation into this matter," he ordered coldly.

Lyra paused for a moment before nodding slightly. "Understood, Your Majesty."

With that, she disappeared, leaving Ragan alone in the study.

Of course, the investigation was purely a formality—never meant to be carried out.

After all, the princes’ deaths had been necessary for a victor to emerge and claim the throne.

Just as Ragan drifted into thought, a knock came at the door, followed by the voice of the young man who never failed to rile him.

"Old man, I heard you calling me. Mind if I come in?"

Ragan froze. His breath caught, and the urge to strike Nolan flared. But he quickly forced himself to stay calm, not wanting to be provoked.

He exhaled slowly, interlaced his fingers, rested both elbows on the desk, and pressed the backs of his fingers against his upper lip.

"Come in. The door’s unlocked."

Clack!

The door opened slowly, and Nolan stepped in, radiating casual arrogance as always.

"Good morning, old man—ah, I mean, Father." He sauntered to the front seat and crossed his legs. "So, what do you need from me?"

Ragan: "..."