Chapter 18: Names of the World.

Such a casual, offhand remark.
Delivered in the same tone and voice that troubled Claudia, as if it were utterly inconsequential.
When Claudia lifts his gaze, which had unconsciously dropped, he meets Yuran’s exasperated expression.

“I told you, it’s just my personal opinion. You don’t need to agree or understand.”

“But… that means I’ll never change.”

“You don’t need to share my values. Everyone’s opinions differ, and who knows what saves whom?”

Some might see Claudia’s actions as noble, others might find Yuran’s view cold—or vice versa.
If Claudia had followed Yuran’s advice, who’s to say Maryjune would’ve grown?
She might’ve been deeply hurt, retreating into herself, if left unaided.
Their opinions clashed, but that doesn’t mean one was wrong.

“Honestly, it doesn’t matter either way. Whether she gets hurt or falls into misery, it’s nothing to me.”

Claudia’s eyes widen at the blunt statement.
In contrast, Yuran’s gaze is calm, like a still lake, utterly disinterested.

“Then why…”

Claudia thought Yuran’s words showed concern for Maryjune, warning of the trouble his protection might bring her.
But Yuran had no such intent.
Whatever Claudia heard, Yuran was merely voicing his own perspective.
Maryjune wasn’t even on his mind back then.

“The problem for me is that you branded Violette as the villain.”

Others’ fates don’t matter to him.
Whether they’re laughing, weeping in despair, basking in joy, or drowning in misery, it’s as trivial as a foreign weather report.
The outcome is just a fact—nothing more, nothing less.
He might not even register it.

But Violette is the exception.

If the whole world wailed but Violette smiled, Yuran’s world would be at peace.
If forced to weigh the world’s survival against her happiness, he’d stake his life to protect a world where she thrives—not choosing one over the other, but saving the very foundation of her joy.
And so, he won’t forgive anyone who hurts her.
Even if it’s a bloodless scratch, a painless mark, or something she doesn’t care about herself.
To Yuran, anything that dims her smile is the gravest sin.
That day, he found her without even a trace of a smile.

“You had no solid evidence, no clear testimony—just flimsy assumptions, and you tried to pin guilt on her.”

He vividly recalls the moment her tense expression softened slightly upon seeing him.
He knows she loves and cherishes him, but he’s painfully aware it’s a sisterly affection.
The real Violette would’ve shown him the strength of an older sister in that situation, standing tall to shield him from the chaos.
Yet, she was relieved to see him.
Despite her love, she had no one else to rely on, so cornered that she was driven to desperation.
Branded as a villain.

“You misjudged Violette Rem Varhan’s charisma.
People worship her right in front of you, yet you blamed it all on her… You called her a villain, Prince Claudia. You, of all people.”

If it had been anyone else—even Maryjune, the victim—Yuran wouldn’t have been this angry.
Not the aggressors, not a bystander who saw only part of it, not someone who heard rumors.
He likely wouldn’t have cared.
He knows how Violette’s charisma works—her natural beauty and status, the filters that obscure her true self.
He’s seen people swayed by their own expectations, admiring or resenting her without seeing her clearly.
Each time, she’s hurt a little more, changing bit by bit, and he’s watched it all by her side.
He’s cursed those people in his heart, but that anger quickly turns to comforting her.
Thinking of her is far more meaningful than dwelling on such riffraff.
That’s why it’s so infuriating that he can’t do the same now.

“Just as Maryjune will draw attention for being protected by you, Violette will now attract eyes whether she likes it or not—as the one you, the prince, called a villain.”

His face twists with disgust, the weight of Claudia’s actions sinking in as he speaks.
What’s most infuriating is that Claudia doesn’t grasp their gravity.
Even now, he senses Yuran’s anger but doesn’t understand its root.
As someone destined to lead the nation, Claudia’s fiery sense of justice is vital.
It’s a shield for the people, a noble desire to save others—never wrong.
But Claudia’s mistake was not understanding the size of his own spear.

“Your vision is so narrow.
You don’t realize your own influence, the weight of your words, the responsibility of your choices.”

His shield will save many, and he knows it.
That’s why he gives salvation so freely.
With a strong, broad shield, he wields his power generously—a testament to his depth.
But he should’ve realized that a great shield implies a great spear.
Superior defense comes with superior offense.
He should’ve known he’s both protector and destroyer.
He had to know.
When he fulfills his duty to protect, he also becomes one who strikes.

“Your sense of justice isn’t just an emotion—it carries consequences.”

“…”

Claudia’s throat catches as Yuran glares.
Their golden eyes, though the same hue, reflect opposing emotions.
Yuran rarely shows a smile to Claudia, but baring his raw anger like this is rarer still.
The overwhelming emotion forces Claudia to step back instinctively.
The mask-like stoicism is gone, replaced by a raw, exposed heart—almost like a different person.
All for Violette.

“I don’t care about you.
You don’t need to agree with me or remember my words.
Just don’t forget about Violette.”

Ignoring decorum, Yuran closes the distance in two steps.
Even Claudia, fairly tall, is looked down upon by him.
Their eyes, so alike in color, are starkly different—Claudia’s vibrant, Yuran’s cold and glassy.
His slowly curling lips, a forced smile, highlight the absence of warmth in his gaze.
It’s deliberate, meant to make Claudia notice.

“—Anyone who hurts Vio-chan, I won’t forgive, no matter who they are.”

His icy voice pierces Claudia’s chest, deepening the divide between them.
The indifference Claudia always felt from him stirs, not for him, but because he’s become Violette’s enemy.
Unexpectedly, Claudia has touched Yuran’s raw nerve.

“Alright, we done? This took too long—I need to hurry.”

Brushing past a frozen Claudia, Yuran’s mind is already calculating where to find Violette.
This exchange with Claudia feels like nothing but wasted time.

“Yuran—”

Claudia doesn’t know why he tries to stop him.
But if they part now, Yuran will never hear him out again.
He reaches for Yuran’s arm to halt him, but before his fingers make contact, Yuran stops.
Claudia hopes his voice reached him, but only for a moment.
He quickly realizes his mistake.

“Vio-chan…?”