Chapter 15: Someone special.

“Yuran, where’re we eating lunch?”

Right after the lunch bell, his friend Gia strikes up a conversation.
Gia’s tan skin, rare in Juraria, is supposedly common in his homeland.
Gia Fault, a classmate since middle school, is close enough to call a best friend.
His shimmering silver hair and sea-blue eyes aren’t particularly unique, but paired with his exotic aura, they lend him a mystical charm.
Though tall, he’s overshadowed by Yuran’s height, and his boyish features give him a youthful air despite his bold, boisterous personality—a trait reflective of his homeland.
Who would guess this guy, ditching his tie and blazer and tying his sweater around his waist, is a prince of his nation?

“Oh, I’m—”

“With your princess, huh?”

“…Can you stop calling her that?”

“Princess” isn’t literal—Juraria has no princesses.
Gia’s referring to someone whose beauty suits a queen’s crown more than a princess’s tiara.

“I can’t just call her Violette without meeting her, you know.”

“Ever heard of honorifics?”

It’s been a while since Gia became his friend, but Yuran’s never introduced him to Violette.
Not because it’s unnecessary, but because he doesn’t want to.
It’s not that Gia’s bad or harbors ill will—there’s no complex emotion here, just simple possessiveness.
Violette is more special to him than anyone, and even a friend can’t meet her so easily.
Gia likely senses this, which is why he never asks to meet her despite bringing her up or prioritizing her.
He’s probably seen her in passing but never mentions it.
Instead, he calls her “Yuran’s princess” to tease him, knowing full well it’s not malicious, so Yuran grumbles but never escalates.

“There’s something I’m worried about, so I want to check on her.”

“You’re always like that. If you’re that concerned, just see her every day.”

“This is fine.”

Seeing her daily would be ideal, and Violette would likely welcome him without complaint.
Her kindness wouldn’t let her shun someone she treats like a little brother.
In the past, he visited her almost daily, and she always welcomed him.
Back then, she was far more stubborn, but her warmth toward him was the same—sisterly and embracing.
That closeness earned him the precarious title of childhood friend.
In the narrow noble world, becoming acquaintances is easy, but deepening bonds is hard.
He doesn’t regret those days of constant visits—they were necessary, and he’s proud of the result.
But he knows acting on every whim risks wasting it all.
His true desire isn’t just to see her.

“Alright, I’m off. Don’t dawdle, Gia, or you’ll run out of time.”

Gia’s appetite, beyond what growth spurts explain, makes him a big eater, but not a fast one.
His large portions take time, and too much food rules out takeout.
It’s a daily routine, so Yuran’s not too worried, but Gia’s laid-back pace can be surprisingly disruptive.
Hoping he won’t be late for class, Yuran’s thoughts shift as his footsteps carry him toward Violette.
Given the time spent with Gia, she’s likely not in the classroom.
A packed lunch is unlikely—she rarely asks anything of the household staff.
Marin, who adores her, might anticipate her needs, but she’s too sharp to act if it’d make Violette feel guilty.
The cafeteria, then.
If it’s crowded, she’ll probably get takeout, so he mentally lists quiet spots she’d like.

He’s heading to her now, and that alone lightens his steps.
His worry is real, but wanting to see her face is the bigger reason.
The worst fear—her being hurt at home—seems avoided, and there’s little left to fret over.
He’s just overly cautious when it comes to her.

‘…Come to think of it, I haven’t seen those girls.’

In middle school, he’d see those women every time he visited Violette.
They welcomed him warmly, but he never liked them.
Their shrill voices grated, their heavy perfume was nauseating, and their clingy touches were unbearable—he wanted to shove them away countless times.
Did something happen in the year after Violette graduated to high school?
They were inseparable back then, always trailing her.
If they’ve parted ways, that’s great, but his experience by her side makes him wary.
She’s beautiful and kind but not the best judge of character.

‘As long as nothing’s wrong, that’s best… but I should stay on guard.’

If his caution proves unnecessary, fine—it’s not worth troubling her over.
He’ll keep it to himself.

His thoughts churn as he moves, passing countless people without notice or interest.

“—Yuran.”

“…Yes? Can I help you?”

His name stops him in his tracks.
The empty surroundings feel deliberately chosen.
Turning, he sees exactly who he expected.
There are many reasons to avoid being overheard or seen, but the man before him likely acted out of consideration for Yuran.
He must know all too well that Yuran doesn’t want to be approached or seen talking.

“—Prince Claudia.”

If only he’d channeled that understanding into staying away altogether.