Chapter 23: Maryjune Vahan.
“Huh…”
Caught off guard by the unexpected question, Maryjune freezes, unable to respond.
Her struggle to process Violette’s words is evident, her mind racing to grasp their meaning.
Are those who don’t align with her justice evil?
“Of course not. There are others who believe in a different justice, and to them, at least, it’s not evil.”
The enemy of one justice is another justice in a different form.
Neither is inherently evil.
Both may be right, or both may be wrong.
No one can decide, and people can only hold to their own justice.
“But we’re different. We—nobles—are in a position to decide, or at least, it appears that way.”
When a noble, a ducal house, denies a justice, it loses legitimacy.
A justice discarded like scrap paper easily becomes evil.
If someone loudly declares another’s differences as wrong, how will others perceive it?
If justice triumphs, does the loser become the villain?
Clashing isn’t wrong.
Confrontation is necessary for understanding, even if driven by anger, as long as it’s a line the other can’t cross.
“Think. Understand the responsibility your words carry and act accordingly.”
That responsibility is what makes a noble a noble.
Their status grants greater benefits and the power to fulfill desires, but it comes with duties that must not be forgotten.
“Broaden your perspective. Compromise, even a little. If you can’t accept something, smile outwardly while cursing inwardly.”
Condemning something as wrong ends everything.
Cutting off those who differ will leave you alone eventually.
“You don’t have to love your neighbor. Just allow them to exist.”
Charging forward recklessly will lead to ruin.
A beautiful rose must have sharp thorns.
Wield the weapons you can hone and be ready to use them.
That’s the skill Maryjune needs for the social battlefield ahead.
“You are now Maryjune Varhan.”
Bearing that name, there’s no escape.
Status is a chain, an inescapable fate.
No matter how loved and protected she is by their father, she must stand alone in public.
“…”
Violette, having said her piece, can’t see Maryjune’s expression as she looks down.
No rebuttal, no tears, no accusations of cruelty for Violette’s blunt words.
Having conveyed everything, it’s now up to Maryjune.
“…Excuse me.”
Staying might disrupt her thoughts, so Violette turns away.
A few steps take her to the bright courtyard, still sparsely populated as when she arrived.
Few people, but not none.
“Welcome back.”
“Yuran…!”
Leaning against the wall, he waves casually.
Bathed in sunlight, his eyes gleam warmly, his smile bright and carefree.
A few long strides bring him to her, his gentle hand brushing her hair.
“Your hair’s cold.”
“Must be from standing in the shade.”
That shadowed spot felt chilly in hindsight.
Not enough to affect her body, but her hair, devoid of nerves or blood, lost heat quickly.
Yuran’s hand, though, is warm.
She doesn’t know how long he’s been here, but long enough for the sun’s warmth to linger in his fingertips.
He likely overheard her conversation with Maryjune.
They spoke in an open, albeit secluded, place—her responsibility, not his.
“Yuran…”
“Hm?”
“…Never mind. What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you, Vio-chan. Wanted to eat lunch together.”
He must know she’s aware he overheard, but if he’s choosing to play ignorant, she’ll let it slide.
His usual demeanor, the familiar closeness, remains unchanged.
His smile, no matter how much he grows, stays adorably boyish.
When did she realize their steps would always align?
It was long after he’d surpassed her height.
His head towers above hers, his legs longer, his stride surely faster.
Yet, looking beside her, he’s there—unchanging.
“There’s not much time left. Why didn’t you eat first?”
“Wanted to eat with you.”
“We didn’t plan this. Prioritize your own lunch.”
“Okay, I’ll find you faster next time!”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Her slight pout reveals a rare, unguarded Violette.
The contrast from the tense scene moments ago must be affecting her more than she realized.
Just now, she faced her half-sister by blood, yet this unrelated “little brother” lets her relax and play the big sister.
It’s a comfort akin to being with Marin, like being enveloped by the sea.
So, she didn’t notice.
The golden hair hidden in the shadows.
Yuran’s fierce glare fixed on it.
Or Maryjune, cheeks flushed, staring at Violette’s retreating back.