Chapter 114: One thing I want.

She had given it everything she had.

And the results had followed.

She had truly believed everything was finally turning toward the better.

“Yuraaan…… what’re ya doin’?”

“Adjusting the study schedule up to the exams.”

“That hard, huh?”

“It’s not hard. It’s just that procuring past exam papers takes time depending on how it’s done.”

“Ain’t ya gettin’ ’em from the princess?”

“Mine, yeah. The problem is who to ask for Violet-chan’s set.”

“Ahhh…… right. Why not just ask the prince like always?”

“…………”

“S-Sorry……”

The moment Gear caught that stripped-bare, highlight-less stare, he let out a wry laugh and averted his eyes.

Apparently he had stepped quite firmly on one of Yuran’s landmines.

Gear had never particularly felt the need to read the room, but he also had no hobby of deliberately provoking a man who kept a bomb in his heart.

“……That’s the last resort.”

If what Violet had told him was true, then there was no longer any lingering awkwardness between the two of them.

In that case, there was no need for Yuran to act as go-between every single time.

Violet could ask Claudia directly.

Claudia might even take the initiative to help.

Yet the reason Yuran was still racking his brains like this was pure selfishness—he simply didn’t want the two of them spending time alone together.

That was exactly why he was wracking his mind, trying to secure an alternative route.

The results so far: total failure.

From Gear’s perspective, it would be smarter to just give up already.

Surely Yuran could think far more rationally about anything else.

The fact that he kept struggling pointlessly like this only proved how monstrous his aversion toward Claudia truly was.

In a way, it rivaled his obsession with Violet.

（Still…… comparatively better, maybe?）

Just looking into those golden eyes made it easy to imagine the depth of the bad blood between them.

Thanks to meddlesome people who had pegged Gear as “Yuran’s best friend” and fed him extra information, he now knew that imagination had been correct.

He hadn’t understood the raw, blazing hatred back then, but he could accept it.

He had even felt a little sorry for the prince—and the impression that Yuran was “even more trouble” had only deepened.

Lately, though, that hatred seemed to have softened—at least on the surface.

It only looked that way; the concentration inside probably hadn’t changed at all.

These days, Yuran seemed to be pouring his emotions into other things.

“…………”

He glared at something only he could see in his mind, eyes sharp enough to click his tongue any second.

Gear wasn’t the sort of man Yuran would consult about it, nor was Gear the sort who would ask.

Even if they looked like best friends from the outside, their hearts weren’t particularly close.

Yuran flicked a glance his way.

Gear answered with his most charming, adorable smile.

“Hey, Yuran.”

They never interfered with each other.

Never placed excessive expectations or trust.

And precisely because of that, they credited and understood only what they had personally witnessed.

That day, instinct had whispered: the finest toy.

The friend who would—more than anyone—cancel out the thing Gear hated most in the world.

“──Don’t bore me, yeah?”

Everything else could go to hell.

Use people however he liked, as long as he did it well.

Who profited, who got hurt, what the ending became—Gear didn’t care in the slightest.

“……I don’t give a damn about your hopes.”

“Yeah, ’course ya don’t.”

Gear cackled—genuinely, gleefully amused.

The complete lack of shadow in that expression was honestly irritating.

The distortion in what he said should have been about the same as Yuran’s—yet Gear carried none of the same brooding weight.

Probably because his fundamental way of living for his own desires was completely different at the root.

“Anyway—that was just the preamble. Got a customer waitin’.”

Only now did Gear finally get to the point, earning an annoyed scowl from Yuran.

Gear himself could be blamed for putting the main topic off so casually.

But he also suspected he’d made the wrong choice in who to ask.

Under normal circumstances, no ordinary student would ever come to Gear with a request.

In this country, Sheena’s reputation was such that people might accept dealing with Gear but never trust him.

The fact that someone had deliberately chosen Gear anyway meant either they were exceptionally eccentric—or they believed Gear was the perfect intermediary when it came to Yuran.

If it was the latter, Gear could already imagine who it was—and he would be delighted.

In that case, though, he wouldn’t have called them a mere “customer.”

Unable to guess, he turned his gaze toward the door where the requester waited.

The shadow that had apparently been waiting patiently for Gear to finish now caught Yuran’s eye and bloomed into a delighted smile.

It seemed to be the former after all.

The girl with pure-white hair fluttering around her gave a small wave.