Chapter 19: Heir to the Gold.

At the end of his gaze, Violette hurries along, her steps quick.
At a glance, she doesn’t notice Yuran and Claudia in their secluded spot, but from here, the anxiety on her face is clear.

“…!”

Seeing Violette at the same moment as Yuran, Claudia is a fraction slower to react.
By the time he processes it, Yuran is already moving.
Claudia’s presence is forgotten, relegated to a corner of Yuran’s mind.
Reaching out would only get his hand brushed off.
Yuran’s profile as he leaves shows none of the cold mask he wore for Claudia—only concern for Violette.

“…”

Standing still, then starting to walk, the simple action feels oddly prolonged.
Claudia senses something off in Violette’s demeanor, but what could he do if he chased her?
Normally, he’d act on impulse, but understanding the weight of his actions makes him hesitate.
He’s always known this to some extent, but it wasn’t enough.
Maybe being overly cautious is just right.
At the very least, he was wrong that day for not trying to understand Violette’s words.
An ordinary person could reflect and move on, but for Claudia, failure and regret are forbidden.
A royal’s righteousness doesn’t come from never failing but from turning failures into successes.
That responsibility demands deeper thought than anyone else’s.
As a prince, Claudia bears that duty too.

‘Did Yuran know?’

The weight of responsibility on a king and his kin.
Born at the center of it, Claudia skated on the surface, thinking he understood.
Yuran, though, is far more perceptive.

“Haa…”

His sigh, not quite a sound, falls meaninglessly to the ground.
Covering his forehead, it’s faintly warm, yet his palm feels cold.
He’s more tense facing Yuran than he realized.
From afar, they don’t look alike—different features, builds, hair color, and texture, all deliberately contrasting.
If only their eye color were opposites too.
Their golden hue, like molten gold, shines softly yet firmly—a noble color, a royal symbol.
Who first called it that?
A distant impression became fact, and now those with golden eyes are tacitly expected to inherit the throne.
That color carries countless expectations, a grand illusion beyond reality.
Not ability, but pure blood and color mark a king’s quality.
That blind faith will make Claudia king.
He doesn’t resist his destined role; he was raised without the perspective to question it.
But facing Yuran, seeds of doubt sprout, threatening to grow.
Is Yuran more suited for the throne?

Yuran would scoff or ignore him entirely.
Claudia’s feelings wouldn’t reach him.
If Yuran told him he’s unfit, it’d be easier—self-preservation’s inferiority complex.
Yuran would see through it.
Two years and blood purity—that’s all that separates them.

“Claudia…?”

“…”

The sound of rustling fabric and approaching footsteps reveals a breathless friend.
Milania seems hurried but not specifically looking for Claudia.
His breathing is uneven, though he’s not sweating, suggesting he didn’t run.
Yet his expression betrays an urgency, a departure from his usual calm.

“Mila… what’s wrong? You seem in a rush.”

“Yeah… have you seen Lady Violette?”

“Huh…”

The recent scene replays unbidden.
Violette’s anxious haste, Yuran chasing after her.
Now his friend, with a similar expression, searches for her too.
Yuran’s reason is clear—she’s his priority.
But Milania?
Claudia can’t think of a reason.
He knows they’re acquaintances, having spoken together or alone at times.
But friendly? No.
Many knew—or suspected—Violette’s feelings for Claudia.
She wasn’t overt, just more assertive than the countless ladies smitten with him.
Her blind first love was far from refined, but it wasn’t blameworthy.
Still, Milania admittedly found her difficult and avoided her.

“Her name from your mouth? That’s rare.”

“Yeah… well, it’s complicated.”

“Did something happen?”

“Well… I was just talking to her, but—”

Milania speaks haltingly, choosing words carefully, struggling to convey it accurately.
By the time he finishes, Claudia’s decision is made.

“Let’s go. There’s no time.”

“Wait—what…?”

Leaving only words, Claudia brushes past Milania.
Moments ago, he was the one stopping Yuran; now, he hears Milania’s confused voice behind him.
He imagines the scene ahead.
Milania’s explanation gives him a rough idea, but he just learned that facts and truth can differ.
Claudia will keep reaching out, offering salvation and protection.
Yuran’s words hit hard, and though he understands, his nature won’t change.
But he must aim for what’s truly right—not his own answers, but the truth.
To do that, he needs to see it with his own eyes.
Judging by others’ words shows how unprepared he still is.

He must confirm it.
Even if it means facing his own mistakes head-on.