"Heh... So you really are that cunning, Zarak. I didn't expect that. What do you think Father would say if he found out?"
Zarak's body stiffened at the sound of the voice.
With a rigid movement, he turned to see Nolan standing there with his arms crossed.
A playful glint appeared in Nolan's eyes as he slowly approached, raising one eyebrow in mockery.
"Nolan?!" Zarak jumped to his feet in alarm. "How did you get behind me? And how long have you been there?"
Nolan didn't answer right away. Instead, he smiled casually.
"Does it really matter how or when I got here?" He replied with a shrug, then walked past Zarak's left side and came to a stop.
Turning to face him directly, Nolan asked in a calm voice, "What I want to know is—what are you doing here? And why are you speaking with Marquis Orlan?"
Although his tone was relaxed, a subtle pressure radiated from Nolan's body—strong enough to make Zarak instinctively take a step back.
