Chapter 9:
Shouldering the Burden of the Era
IF LIGHT ATTRACTED MOTHS, then the crowd fawning over once discarded trash were flies. Yulan could imagine nothing more annoying than the onlookers and the way they’d been buzzing around him. Their merciless greed shone through the flimsy smiles they wore. Their facades were pathetic, and it irritated Yulan that they thought those paper masks could fool him. Even now that he’d risen above them all and gained popularity and power, they looked no different to Yulan than they had on the day they’d senselessly cast him aside.
He didn’t care a mite that they’d misjudged him. Failing to measure a person’s talent correctly was a common side effect of stupidity. What he found most troublesome was that they expected him to behave as they wished.
“Say, Yulan, don’t you agree, my boy?”
The overly flattering voice interrupted Yulan’s brain as it carried out the required head count of the waiters. It made him sick. Looking at the smirking face of this man, the same age as his middle-aged parents, was so unpleasant that it only made him want to vomit even more. Yulan could’ve made a show of twisting his face in disgust, but now wasn’t the time. This was supposed to be a celebration of the new prince’s birth. He’d worked very hard, sacrificing his time with Violette for this day. He needed it to be successful. Otherwise, all those times he’d made her lonely would be for nothing.
Truth be told, he hadn’t heard a single thing up to this point. He’d spent the entire celebration busily working the crowd. And, from the moment he’d for some reason been apprehended for a chat, Yulan’s brain had been stuck in work mode. Yet, although he hadn’t heard anything the others said, he still knew what they were saying.
“You’re a superior specimen.”
“Your blood is genuine.”
“You have what it takes.”
“You have just as much right as he does.”
“You have golden eyes too.”
Their tongues wouldn’t stop wagging. All the old bastards seemed to have forgotten the grand declarations they’d made twenty years ago. It was because Yulan had golden eyes that Duralia wished to forbid his existence.
“Prince Claudia’s also gifted… But I’m just saying.”
“He’s a well-behaved gentleman, but politics isn’t always about civility.”
“Sometimes you need to bargain.”
“In that regard, you have a gift for negotiating with Sina.”
They were abominable attempts at flattery. It was true that Claudia was overly upright, and that Yulan was gifted in the art of determining someone’s true intentions, but did those old farts really believe such clumsy ass-kissing would sway him? If so, they really did look down on him.
The thought of entertaining their sycophancy with a cynical laugh seemed stupid to Yulan. He’d humored them more than enough; he wanted to get back to work. He gave them a glance to signal this, but his intentions were misunderstood. The creepy smile on the first man’s face creased even deeper as he bent down like a snake and whispered.
“You’re best suited to be the next king.”
Augh. Seriously. These bastards must think I’m really stupid.