Richter's words were harsh, deliberately chosen to wound the young girl in front of him. He told Yui she was presumptuous to think she'd been chosen for anything other than convenience. He told her she was the right age and easy to abstract from her daily life, and that to imagine there might be any other reason was pathetic, stupid. He told her that her father was just another mundane human, too simple and dull to know anything about the Sakamaki family's centuried schemes and Byzantine intrigues.
Richter's words chosen to wound; but none of them found their mark. Yui didn't care about being special. She didn't care if Richter held her or her father in any particular esteem. All she cared about was knowing that even if the church had betrayed her, her father had not. It was over all too soon, but for an instant Yui could wrap herself in the memory of Seiji's love, tasting again the peace and happiness she'd been deprived of since joining the Sakamaki household.
Richter's words were chosen to wound. They would have hurt creatures like him or Cordelia, obsessed with status and prestige. They would have burned like acid, cut like a blade. For Yui, they only brought joy.