Chapter 86: Wishing for something you don’t have.

I had known from the very beginning that this feeling was nothing more than my own ego.

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“You’re in a foul mood.”

“…”

I’m fully aware the air around me is hostile.
If anything, I’m doing it on purpose to keep people away.
In fact, perhaps intimidated by the atmosphere I’m giving off, no one has come near me for a while.

My classmates probably just think I’m lost in thought; they can’t read Yulan’s moods.
As long as they don’t approach, I don’t care either way.

But when it comes to the one person who completely ignores that reaction, I start wanting to say a few things.

“Shut up, Gear.”

“I’ve only said one thing.”

“That one thing is annoying.”

“You really are selfish.”

He says it with a laugh, which only makes it more irritating.
Does this so-called best friend of mine realize that?
There’s a chance he genuinely doesn’t notice, a chance he notices and ignores it, or a chance he lumps all of it together and simply doesn’t care.
In short, my bad mood means nothing to Gear; it has no value.

That part of him is exactly why Yulan likes him.
And at the same time, why he hates him.

Gear observes almost everything from the sidelines and remains free toward both himself and others; for Yulan, who calculates nearly every relationship in terms of profit and loss; Gear is incredibly easy to deal with.
He never lectures out of a sense of justice, never acts like he understands with his own arbitrary interpretations, and the boundary between self and other is crystal clear.
Even if an abyss stretches between them, as long as he can see the face and hold a conversation, Gear doesn’t mind.
That’s why, in a way, their relationship is the most neutral and even of all.

But precisely because it’s Gear, certain emotions are provoked.

There are quite a few students in the academy who dislike Gear; the prince of a closed, neutral country who carries an obviously foreign air.
Yulan, on the other hand, despite carrying circumstances far more unusual than Gear’s, is accepted by most students thanks to his likable appearance, expressions, and personality.
He has calculated and maneuvered to make it so.
And so most students probably adore Yulan.

Gear simply lives without feeling anything about that surrounding admiration.
That lack of emotion, that indifference, that overwhelming composure; it feels like an immense strength.

It’s enviable, infuriating; feelings he would never put into words.

“…I told you you’re loud. It’s ringing in my head.”

“Ah… lack of sleep, huh. You’ve got dark circles.”

“I know.”

There’s too much to think about and too much to do; lately his sleep is less than half the usual amount.
Add chronic low blood pressure on top, and both his mood and physical condition are at rock bottom.
He hadn’t intended to let even self-management slide, but the sheer increase in things to think about has thrown his schedule into chaos.

(The information I can gather inside the academy alone is too limited…)

He examines and analyzes what little there is, digs deeper when something seems credible… and the result is almost the same cards he had before starting.
In other words, almost everything is a dud.
All the effort that cost him sleep has been wasted again and again, yet giving up is not an option.

(I wonder if Vio-chan is okay…)

What floats into his mind is the last expression he saw on Violet’s face: surprise, panic, and despair all mixed together, followed by her retreating back.

That scene replays endlessly in his head, making him hate whatever caused her to make that face.
He has a rough idea, yet nothing decisive; which only makes it more infuriating.

He rubs his throbbing temples hard, half-wanting to blame even this pain on that innocent little sister.

(It’s really tough not being able to get information from inside that house.)

He absolutely cannot ask Violet herself.
Reminding her; who is finally outside; of that house is something that must never happen.
And she probably wouldn’t tell him anything anyway.

He has been deceived countless times by her brave “I’m fine” smile.
He should have realized much sooner that Violet’s “fine” didn’t mean she was unharmed; it meant she was enduring.

(If only I could ask Marin…)

The person who understands Violet; perhaps even more than Yulan; in a certain sense.
The woman Violet trusts more than anyone else in the world.
If he could just contact her, not only would his questions be answered, he’d probably gain countless other benefits as a bonus.

But the risks; in every sense; are far too great.

First, he has no personal way to contact her.
There is virtually no method for reaching a maid like Marin without going through someone else.
The Verhan household probably has a telephone, but Marin couldn’t use it privately, and a letter could be seen by anyone at any point.

When the head of the house lived in the separate residence, there were still ways.
Bellrose spent all his time holed up in his room, and the servants there felt only pity and affection for Violet.

But now three people Yulan considers foreign bodies live in that house, and the servants who used to care for them in the separate residence moved over as well.
There is no guarantee the staff will side with Violet anymore.

He trusts Marin.
But he does not trust a single one of the others.

“Tch…”

A tongue-click escapes involuntarily.
He’s not exactly at a dead end, but the available moves are few, the things to think about are piling up, and on top of that he needs to prepare a way to contact Marin as a last resort.

The causes are increasing faster than his sleep debt can be repaid.

“Sorry to bother you while you’re brooding, but there’s something I should probably tell you.”

“…Ah?”

Unknowingly his gaze had dropped; he raises it toward Gear, who has arbitrarily claimed the seat in front of him.
The glare is unconscious; blame the aching head.

Gear is completely unfazed by the expression that would send a normal gentle cat running.
He casually parts his thin lips and says:

“Do you know a girl named Rosette Megan Rosette?”