Chapter 17: Flexibility of Justice.
“Huh…”
“It’s nothing.”
The curse that slipped out unconsciously lacks the force to reach its target.
The brief flash of irritation seems to go unnoticed.
Arms crossed, Yuran recalls the recent incident.
If possible, he’d erase it entirely—especially from Violette’s memory.
Instead of laughing it off, the lingering displeasure creases his brow.
Claudia, perhaps sensing the shift in Yuran’s mood, tenses visibly.
They share the same memory, sparing Yuran the need to explain, but their emotions surrounding Claudia’s question are clearly different.
If Claudia can’t grasp the true meaning of Yuran’s words from that day…
“Was what you did back then really right?”
Was saving Maryjune truly the right thing to do?
Can helping the weak ever be wrong?
If the act is driven by justice, does it always end as a noble tale?
In a child’s dreamy world, perhaps.
The beautiful ideals adults once chased, the perfect world they aimed for—if life were a fairy tale, most of the world might be brimming with happiness.
Claudia, puzzled by Yuran’s question, furrows his brow, unable to grasp its meaning.
His expression betrays his thoughts: Of course it was right.
Despite seeing the world’s realities as a prince, or perhaps because of it, he clings to a pure belief.
He’s carved out only the beautiful, just parts of life as his creed, wielding a razor-sharp sense of justice.
He offers protection freely to those within reach, like a savior.
If Claudia were a hero, perhaps he’d deserve praise and reverence.
“Did protecting her back then really help her?”
“…What are you trying to say?”
Is he saying the rescue was a mistake, that his actions weren’t just?
Claudia’s face clouds slightly, though whether it’s doubt or anger is unclear.
He still doesn’t understand.
“By stepping in, you’ve drawn even more attention to her.
She’s already a new noble with striking looks, and now the prince himself protected her.
Naturally, that’ll spark more envy.”
“That’s…”
“Normally, the ducal house would shield her, but… you know how a mistress’s child is viewed, don’t you?”
“…!”
“You saved her, but her position is likely even more precarious now.”
If life were a fairy tale with a happy ending, Claudia’s actions would be heroic.
If you could clip out just the happiest moment and close the curtain, people wouldn’t wish for luck on four-leaf clovers.
“Even if the same thing happens again, she probably can’t handle it.
She’s not equipped to navigate or confront it gracefully.”
Yesterday happened, today is here, and tomorrow will come after sleep.
Today’s story continues.
If today’s failures build tomorrow’s successes, Maryjune, who hasn’t even failed yet, is an unknown.
From what little Yuran saw, she doesn’t seem capable of deftly handling malice.
She’d face it rightly, purely, but the noble world isn’t kind enough for dreamers.
“If blindly protecting someone who can’t stand on their own is justice, she’ll remain ignorant forever.
The lives of nobles and commoners differ more than you think.”
The idea that living in the same country makes them equals is baseless.
Different births, upbringings, and responsibilities—how could their sense of justice be the same?
Believing different people share the same values is absurd.
As royalty, Claudia cares for his people—nobles, commoners, saints, and sinners alike.
But caring from afar and seeing through their eyes are not the same.
“Your actions undeniably helped her in that moment… but will they keep her from being hurt in the future?”
Claudia isn’t the one hurting her—that’s certain.
Like Violette back then, he’s just a reason.
Still, the trigger was undeniably pulled by his actions that day.
It wasn’t evil; it was good.
But was it the right choice?
“…!”
Claudia bites his lip, his clenched fists creaking unpleasantly.
Yuran knows he should stop him before his nails break soft skin, but without that tension, Claudia might be swallowed by the discomfort.
Yuran’s words crash from his ears to his heart.
Claudia chose to confront this, but it feels like a blade has pierced his softest core.
Justice is likely simple and flexible.
That’s why it’s easy to believe in it wholly, to mistake it for something fixed and unchanging.
Because it fits your desires, you assume it does for others too.
What seems like forged steel is, in truth, clay—molded differently by each person.
It shifts with time, sometimes becoming ugly or soiled enough to discard.
Its multifaceted, ever-changing nature makes it hard for people to handle more than their own.
To Claudia, Yuran’s words are a new form of justice.
One justice clashes with another, and his heart isn’t broad enough to hold both.
He’s the type to fixate on one.
Swallowing a conflicting value at once is too much with so little time.
“Then… what should I have done?”
Should he have ignored it?
Let the girl be slapped mercilessly, abandoning her for her own good?
He could never do that.
Even if Yuran’s words ring true, even if his inaction becomes a cruel reason in the future, he can’t ignore what’s within his reach.
“What should I… do?”
He’ll likely follow his heart again, even after digesting Yuran’s words and their truth, frowning at his own inability to look away.
That’s why he’s lost.
The answers he once had are now riddled with doubts, the best solutions clouded like mist.
What should he have done?
What should he do moving forward?
“—Do whatever you want.”