Chapter 95: Common sense.
I want to hear her voice.
I want to see her face.
I want to talk to her.
Whether it’s anxiety, fear, longing, or heartache—there are countless excuses I could give.
But in the end, all I really think is:
I just want to see her.
× × × ×
Yulan never writes anything down.
Putting it on paper is the same as leaving evidence.
If it benefits him, fine—but it could just as easily be used against him.
For someone like Yulan, who has survived solely on the impression he projects, a single careless image could be fatal.
Fortunately, he has confidence in his memory.
There are mountains of things he wants to forget, yet every one of them is etched in with nauseating precision.
In the past he used to hide under the blankets and endure those memories, but now he can call it a splendid talent.
Thanks to it, he can store an enormous amount of information.
“You’ve been in the classroom the whole time lately.”
“Too much trouble to move.”
“Don’t you need to go see your princess?”
Gear casually perched on the edge of Yulan’s desk, tilting his head with obvious amusement.
At first glance it looked like teasing, but Gear had no such intention—he was simply enjoying the situation.
He didn’t want to anger Yulan or make him more impatient; he just found whatever was in front of him interesting or boring, nothing more.
A man who lives purely for himself.
He at least possesses the rationality not to scatter malice on purpose, but being treated as entertainment is irritating all the same.
Especially when Gear’s words hit Yulan’s soft spots with perfect accuracy.
“Because of you, I have more to investigate.”
“You blame others as naturally as you breathe.”
“The information was useful. I’m not thanking you, though.”
“You could just say thanks like a normal person.”
Gear threw his head back and laughed, showing no sign of getting bored.
He had apparently decided to enjoy Yulan’s reactions to the fullest.
The expression that completely ignored Yulan’s foul mood grated on his nerves.
Between the sleep that had dwindled to almost nothing and the information that kept piling up without forming a clear picture, his head pain was setting in.
He pressed his fingers to the spot between his brows and looked down.
The incarnation of freedom simply watched, doing nothing.
If asked, Gear would probably help with something, but he would never let himself be used as a pawn.
His ability to view things objectively from the outside was extremely valuable, but relying on his whims was unwise.
“Well, whatever. Found anything interesting?”
“You already know the answer.”
“Who knows?”
Whether it felt like his nerves were being rubbed raw because of Gear’s face or because Yulan himself had no margin left—he couldn’t tell.
The information had been valuable, but precisely because it was valuable he had to think hard about its credibility and how to use it.
The workload increased, his sleep decreased further, and the stress of zero progress turned into a physical headache.
No matter how long he stared at his desk or strained to overhear conversations, he wouldn’t advance even half a step.
“…It’s about time, though.”
He had gathered everything he could gather, thought everything he could think—
so the next move was clear.
“Don’t get caught, yeah?”
“What do you take me for?”
“Someone weird in every possible sense.”
“That’s the last thing I want to hear from you.”
In this academy—no, in the entire world—the biggest outlier was Gear.
The citizens of Sheena were treated as anomalies everywhere, yet here their prince was calling him strange.
Yulan knew full well his own position was irregular, but he didn’t think he was outside common sense.
Love, obsession, priorities, and the speed with which he could cut things off—
everything was simply directed at one single person.
He just wanted the person precious to him—
Violet—
to be happy.
And for that—
he could do anything.
He could hurt anyone.