《GosickS》


 Volume 1 - Prologue

    Rapunzel grew into the most beautiful child under the sun. When she was twelve years old, the enchantress shut her into a tower, which lay in a forest, and had neither stairs nor door, but quite at the top was a little window. When the enchantress wanted to go in, she placed herself beneath it and cried:


    ¡®Rapunzel, Rapunzel,


    Let down your hair to me.¡¯


    The Brothers Grimm. ¡°Rapunzel.¡± Grimms¡¯ Fairy Tales. Trans. Edgar Taylor and Marian Edwardes.


    *****


    Cast of Characters:


    Kazuya KUJOU ¨C A foreign student from an island country in the Orient; the protagonist of this volume.


    *****


    GosickS I ¡ª The Reaper Who Comes in Spring


    Prologue


    Within a tiny body dwelled a certain ¡°thing.¡±


    And so, for quite a long time, the people of this country were not aware of its existence.


    That ¡°thing¡± took on the form of a small girl.


    And so nobody noticed it.


    Under luxurious frills and lace, under layers upon layers upon layers as endless as your dreams¡ª


    Slept a peculiar kind of darkness.


    A labyrinth.


    Victorique¡¯s mind was enormous and mystifying, an intricate labyrinth tinged in the color of night. Not only was no one able to understand it, no one was allowed to even catch a glimpse of it. Instead, she had always been like a lonely king, with neither subjects nor a domain, and yet possessing vast lands. Endowed with extensive knowledge and a ¡°wellspring of wisdom,¡± Victorique suffered from constant boredom. And so, secluding herself in a library tower that soared to the sky, she ceaselessly read books, and for quite a long time was visited by no one.


    As a certain woman who knew her well once said, ¡°To be bored must surely mean the same as being lonely¡­.¡±


    But¡ª-


    Now at last, a single vassal had finally come to present himself.


    This vassal was a small boy with black hair. Born in a faraway land, his skin an unfamiliar color, he bore a kind, and yet somehow stubborn countenance. His name was Kazuya Kujou, and he had come from a great distance, crossing the seas. And he climbed the library tower, until finally¡­.


    He met that girl.


    The year was 1924.


    In a corner of Europe, adjacent to the French, Swiss, and Italian borders, was Sauvure, a small country that nonetheless prided itself on its long history. If its Mediterranean coast, known as a summer resort for the nobility, was Sauvure¡¯s majestic entryway, then the heart of the Alps could be called its secret attic, slumbering within a grand castle. At the foot of the mountains stood St. Marguerite¡¯s School, a prestigious institution dedicated to educating the children of the aristocracy.


    While the mysterious girl Victorique, also known as the Grey Wolf, was still secluded within the library tower of that school, the foreign student Kazuya Kujou had arrived from a certain country in the Orient.


    And on a certain day in the springtime of that year, this girl and boy just so happened to meet¡­.

 Volume 1 - CH 1.1

    chapter one ¡ª the traveler who comes in spring brings death to the school


    [1]


    Kazuya Kujou was a serious boy.


    One could say that in itself was his strong suit, or at least not a handicap. He was serious and straight-laced, taciturn and prosaic, an altogether dour sort of man.


    As the youngest child of four siblings, he had an expert in martial arts for an eldest brother, an accomplished amateur inventor as his second eldest brother, and a beautiful older sister who had graduated with a diploma in dance.


    To compensate for having no special talents of his own, Kazuya was earnest to a fault, and always achieved top marks in school. For this reason¡ªapart from the fact that as the third son, there would be no need for him to inherit the family headship, and therefore no problem in the unlikely event he were to encounter an early demise while abroad¡ªhis father decided to allow him to attend school in the kingdom of Sauvure, which had recently begun to accept foreign students from allied countries.


    His father was a military man, and took every opportunity to lecture Kazuya on his duties as the third son of an imperial soldier. Accordingly, Kazuya made sure to remind himself constantly, so as to avoid making any mistakes, that the third son of an imperial soldier must behave with utmost seriousness¡­.


    *****


    ¡°¡­Kujou! Kujou!¡±


    It was slightly past seven in the morning.


    By this time, Kazuya would normally already be awake in his room in the boys¡¯ dormitory, having washed his face, combed his hair, and changed into his uniform. Then he would make his way down the stairs to the dining room, the even sound of his footsteps echoing stiffly down the hall.


    Since his aristocratic classmates were accustomed to sleeping in until the last minute before the morning lessons began, Kazuya targeted his arrival at the dining room to occur while it was still empty. The voluptuous, red-headed housemother, who appeared to be slightly past twenty years old, was usually the only one in the room. He would find her sitting on a stool with her legs crossed, engrossed in the morning newspaper while smoking her cigarettes. Since there were few boys willing to accept Kazuya, who was not only Asian but a commoner, he had still made no close friends. Therefore, he had been forced to adjust his schedule to this earlier hour in order to ward off his loneliness.


    But today would be different.


    Kazuya was in the middle of washing his face when a sudden loud knocking on his door and the sound of a woman¡¯s voice startled him. Already clad in his uniform, he opened the door.


    Flaming red hair and a shapely figure came into view. The voluptuous housemother stood there with a drowsy expression on her face.


    ¡°¡­Good morning. Wh-what¡¯s the matter?¡± said Kazuya.


    ¡°Great! I knew you would be awake. You can go buy some ham and cheese for me!¡±


    ¡°¡­Huh?¡±


    The housemother unceremoniously dragged Kazuya out of his room, and stuffed something shaped like a sandwich into his breast pocket. This only confused him more.


    ¡°Wh-wh-wh-what are you doing? Ham and cheese? Me? Where? ¡­ And why?¡±


    ¡°To be exact, what I need is five hundred grams of ricotta cheese, and one kilo of ham. You can find them at the morning market in the village. I forgot to buy them yesterday,¡± answered the housemother in a rapid-fire prattle.


    Kazuya shoved his necktie into his pocket. ¡°Wh-why?¡±


    ¡°I had planned to go to the grocer¡¯s, but I ran into a friend along the way, and got invited to a dance party. I danced and had a few glasses of wine, then I came home, empty-handed¡­. There, I¡¯ve told you, now go, quickly! Otherwise I¡¯ll have no breakfast to serve anyone! I¡¯ll lose my job! Hurry along now!¡±


    ¡°Um, well, when I was asking ¡®why,¡¯ I meant ¡®why me¡¯¡­.¡±


    ¡°Because you always wake up early. Not to mention what a weak¡ªhaha, I mean well-mannered, yes, that¡¯s right, what a well-mannered young man you are!¡±


    She dragged him downstairs and drove him outside with a merciless kick, the movement jostling her plump, womanly form.


    ¡°That sandwich will be your breakfast. I have to go slice some bread and boil some water now, so leave right away and make sure to hurry back!¡±


    ¡°Um, wait!¡±


    The door slammed shut.


    Kazuya stared, dumbfounded, at the closed door, still not quite fully awake. At last he heaved a sigh.


    ¡°¡­Very well.¡±


    He reluctantly set off toward the main gate.


    *****


    Ever since he had been a boy living at home, Kazuya often experienced girls casually asking him for favors. He could remember his older sister telling him that it must mean he was very capable, but Kazuya never thought so. As an honorable soldier¡¯s son, he should have been spared the indignity of having to carry out the requests of others, much less being treated as a mere errand boy.


    He slipped out of the main gate to walk along a gravel road that led to the village, and sighed.


    For someone as reserved and inflexible as Kazuya Kujou was, and exceedingly timid when it came to women, he had an unexpected side of himself that he never showed to anyone. Although he took great pains to keep it a secret from family or friends, he was, in fact, a considerable romantic.


    Hidden behind the stiff and serious mask he always wore, he harbored fantasies of an ideal encounter with a beautiful stranger of the opposite sex. He privately believed that every boy was fated to meet his very own girl¡ªa girl so perfectly compatible that it would be as if God had brought them together, someone who would be his kindred spirit, not to mention be very lovely¡­.


    ¡­And if his father were to ever find out that he pondered such things, Kazuya would not only be severely embarrassed, but would be slapped across the face for his unmanly behavior. And if his brothers were to ever find out, they would surely laugh for three days straight. Consequently, he made absolutely sure that his family would never know his secret.


    But the girl for me¡­


    ¡°Has to exist somewhere,¡± he murmured. He increased his pace on the country road, and sighed once again.


    Let¡¯s say, one morning¡­ Yes, a morning like this¡­.


    Kazuya began to daydream.


    Say I¡¯m walking along like this, and I bump right into a cute girl who¡¯s headed my way. I would ask her, ¡°?a va?,¡± and she would shyly respond, ¡°?a va bien, merci.¡± The moment our eyes meet, she falls in love with me¡­.


    His thoughts having wandered thus far, Kazuya suddenly returned to his senses. Thinking over his uncharacteristically clich¨¦d fantasy, he shrugged his shoulders and chuckled.


    ¡­Yeah, right. That never happens in real life. Anyway, after I buy that ham and cheese, I have to hurry back to school. In the half year I¡¯ve been here, I¡¯ve never been late once. The third son of an imperial soldier must never be late. So I better be quick¡­.


    Something moved in the corner of his vision, and he guessed that someone else must have passed nearby. Although it was unusual for anyone else to be walking on this deserted country road so early in the morning¡­.


    But ¡­ as for that ¡°girl of mine¡±¡­.


    Even as he quickened his footsteps, somehow Kazuya¡¯s thoughts again returned to the world of his daydreams.


    If I could, I would want a blond girl. It¡¯s such a pretty color after all. A dazzling hair color that doesn¡¯t exist in my own country¡­.


    Suddenly, he heard the squeal of brakes.


    It was a peculiar sound. While Kazuya was solemnly ruminating on the issue of blondes, he inattentively turned the corner without looking. Not a second later, he heard the sound of a large object making an impact, followed by total silence. He snapped back to reality, blurting out a note of surprise.


    A smoothly polished German motorbike had slammed into the low stone wall that divided the road from an adjacent vineyard. It appeared to have crashed at a high speed after not fully clearing the corner. Upon realizing that he had been only seconds away from being hit himself, Kazuya¡¯s face tightened.


    A large man wearing a black helmet was still seated on the motorbike, seemingly frozen from the shock of the accident. Kazuya opened his mouth, about to give the rider a piece of his mind, but out of a concern to avoid agitating the man too much, thought better of it. Instead he asked, ¡°Um, excuse me¡­. Are you all right?¡±


    There was no answer. He peered into the helmet, and saw that the man¡¯s eyes were wide open, fixed and unblinking.


    No matter how much I was wishing I could bump into some cute girl, instead I¡¯ve just bumped into this big man on a motorbike, thought Kazuya. What dreadful luck! There can¡¯t be anything worse than this.


    The second he finished his thought and exhaled another sigh¡­


    Something worse happened.


    An object tumbled to the ground.


    It was the man¡¯s head.


    Kazuya screamed.


    The head, still wearing a helmet, rolled forward until reaching a stop squarely at Kazuya¡¯s feet, its frozen facial expression staring up at him. In uncomprehending shock, he faced the head and repeated, ¡°Are you all right?!¡±


    At that moment¡­


    Kazuya heard a strange sound, like water streaming from a fountain. Looking upward, he saw blood spouting from the headless neck, staining the body and the motorbike in deep red.


    He screamed again.


    Beyond the spraying blood, he contemplated the radiance of the morning sun and the lush, green vineyard. It was still a fine day.


    So I bumped into a headless corpse instead of a girl, he said to himself with knitted brows, his expression as solemn as ever.


    ¡­I never should¡¯ve gone abroad.


    Kazuya heaved a great sigh. And then¡­


    He fainted.

 Volume 1 - CH 1.2

    [2]


    The next time Kazuya regained consciousness, he found himself laid out on a bed in an unfamiliar room. It was small and dimly lit, and the walls were lined with bottles of medicine. He got up and looked out of the window. Recognizing the sight of the school¡¯s expansive campus, he deduced that he must be in the infirmary.


    From the direction of the hallway, he heard an exclamation in a sweet soprano voice. ¡°Inspector, wait! This is unjust!¡±


    Upon hearing the familiar sound, Kazuya raised his head. The pitter-pat of footsteps quickly approached the room, and the owner of the voice opened the door.


    A diminutive head peered into the room.


    Drooping brown eyes behind large circular glasses. Shoulder-length brunette hair. These belonged to Kazuya¡¯s homeroom teacher Miss C¨¦cile. She was presumably in her early twenties, but appeared even more childish than her students. The impression she gave was that of a small, round puppy.


    As she entered the room, she smiled, noticing that Kazuya had woken up. ¡°Kujou, you finally came to? That¡¯s a relief. How are you feeling?¡±


    ¡°Uh, I¡¯m fine¡­.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s unusual for you to be late, so I was getting worried about you. I contacted the dormitory, but the housemother just mumbled something I couldn¡¯t quite make out¡­.¡±


    Kazuya recalled his mission to buy the ham and cheese, and wondered if the housemother had gotten angry, having to serve breakfast without any side dishes. As he gravely pondered this, he suddenly remembered the incident with the headless corpse, and blanched.


    ¡°And then we heard that this strange corpse was discovered on the road to the village, and you were lying unconscious next to it. So we had some men from the village carry you back here. Kujou¡­ What on earth happened?¡±


    Kazuya was taken aback by the sight of his teacher¡¯s face clouded over with worry. He was just about to give her an explanation when he heard the door to the infirmary open with a loud rattle.


    He looked over his shoulder at the door.


    What he saw made him stiffen in shock.


    *****


    Standing there was a very odd-looking man. He was young, tall and slender, with an aristocratic face as perfectly proportioned as that of an actor. He wore a well-tailored suit with burnished silver cufflinks, and looked every inch a dapper gentleman.


    But there was one aspect of his appearance that was definitely off.


    It was his hair.


    His lustrous blond mane was, for some bizarre reason, swept forward and hardened into the shape of a drill. Kazuya stared at the golden drill, his mouth agape. The man looked back at him, and rested one hand on the wall and stretched one leg behind himself, arranging himself in the pose of a ballet dancer.


    At last he spoke. ¡°Sorry to keep you waiting.¡±


    ¡°¡­Huh?¡± This threw Kazuya off guard. Have I been waiting? Who exactly have I been waiting for? Next to him, he heard Miss C¨¦cile inhale sharply. She seemed to be scowling at the man, who, for his part, merely ignored her.


    ¡°I¡¯m Inspector Gr¨¦ville de Blois.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here to interview you about the case.¡±


    ¡°Very well,¡± Kazuya said, nodding. Oh, so it¡¯s just a policeman.


    Inspector de Blois snapped his fingers. Then Kazuya suddenly heard the sound of footsteps running down the hallways. Within moments, a pair of young men donning rabbit-skin hunting caps burst into the room. In contrast to the inspector, their faces reflected an unassuming demeanor that hinted at their working-class origins. Their cotton waistcoats and sturdy boots were similar to those typically worn in the village. Kazuya surmised that the two of them must be the inspector¡¯s deputies.


    But when they reached toward him, intending to drag him out of the infirmary, Kazuya noticed something strange.


    For some reason, the two young deputies were holding hands very tightly.


    Kazuya looked away, then after a moment looked back again.


    ¡­Yes, they were definitely holding hands.


    Sensing the uneasy expression on Kazuya¡¯s face as he stared at them, the two men responded as if offering an excuse, ¡°We¡¯re childhood friends, after all!¡±


    ¡°Ha, ha, ha!¡± they laughed in unison, their white teeth gleaming.


    Kazuya, who had been growing more bewildered by the minute, found himself at a complete loss for words.


    *****


    Inspector de Blois and his two unusual deputies ushered Kazuya into a room that was being used to store archives. The room possessed a gloomy, disquieting aura. Once inside, Kazuya spotted a faded brown globe, a huge Indian-style woodcarving of some scene he couldn¡¯t quite identify, and a collection of strange-looking medieval weapons strewn in a pile, as if the last person to see them had been unsure whether to throw them away or not.


    A lamp burned with a faltering flame, emitting a continuous sputtering sound that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.


    After forcing Kazuya to sit down on an old and awfully creaky wooden chair, Inspector Blois rested his own backside on the edge of a sturdy rectangular desk. He picked up the globe and lazily spun it around. Suddenly, he began to rattle off Kazuya¡¯s particulars.


    ¡°Kazuya Kujou. Age: fifteen. Born in 1909. Grades: top-ranked. Friends: none.¡±


    At the mention of ¡°friends: none,¡± Kazuya hung his head dejectedly.


    When he had been living in his home country, he had friends he could chat with at the military academy he attended, and friends among the boys he had grown up with in his neighborhood. But since coming to Sauvure, he could not fit in with the young aristocrats at school, no matter how hard he tried. The exclusionary atmosphere he was subjected to as an Asian foreigner caused him endless despair.


    But the inspector paid no heed to Kazuya¡¯s anguish. Instead, he suddenly burst into laughter.


    ¡°What a shame. Dealing with juvenile delinquency is never an easy task. I take no pleasure in sending promising young men to the gallows, but the law is the law, my boy.¡±


    ¡°¡­Huh?¡± The inspector¡¯s words jarred him back to reality. Kazuya was starting to get a very bad feeling about all of this. He glanced at the door, but the two hand-holding deputies were planted in front of it, blocking any chance of escape.


    Don¡¯t tell me¡­.


    The inspector beamed a bright smile at Kazuya, in jarring contrast to his words. And then he inexplicably raised one leg, swung his body around in an awkward pose, and pointed a finger at Kazuya with a snap.


    ¡°Kujou, you are the killer!¡±


    Flabbergasted, Kazuya began to frantically protest. ¡°I am not! I was just a bystander. This is highly uncalled for. I object. I strongly object. And I demand that you make a proper deduction based on a rigorous investigation. I, I¡ª¡±


    ¡°Tsk, tsk, tsk!¡±


    Inspector de Blois winked at him and wagged his index finger. His attitude was starting to get on Kazuya¡¯s nerves. As Kazuya glared indignantly at the wagging finger, the inspector said something terrifying.


    ¡°I have no interest in your state of mind, Kujou¡ªthe mind of someone who goes abroad to commit murder, and spark an international incident!¡±


    ¡°A-an international incident?¡±


    ¡°The murdered man was a government worker on his holiday.¡±


    ¡°Good God¡­¡±


    Kazuya was speechless in shock, his face turning deathly pale.


    The scenery of his homeland, his mother¡¯s gentle smile, his father¡¯s stern face, the sunlit view of the shoreline on the day that he left for Sauvure¡­


    All of these memories flashed before his eyes like a kaleidoscope.


    ¡°¡­Kujou, I can¡¯t see how the killer could be anyone but you.¡±


    ¡°Th-that¡¯s absurd! How, how can you say such a thing¡­?¡±


    ¡°Bwa-ha-ha! If you really want to know¡­¡±


    Inspector de Blois raised his leg in order to strike yet another pose. Before he could complete his move, someone knocked on the door.


    But the inspector and his deputies pretended they didn¡¯t hear it.


    Again came the knocking at the door.


    As the men continued to ignore the sound, someone forced the door open. Miss C¨¦cile¡¯s small, dainty face emerged from behind the two deputies. They attempted to block her way with their linked hands, but she merely smiled, and nimbly ducked underneath their outstretched arms. She walked up to Kazuya, who at that moment was about to burst into tears.


    ¡°Here you go!¡± she said, handing him two pieces of paper.


    He took them without a second thought. They appeared to be class notes from this morning¡¯s lessons. One paper had Kazuya¡¯s name on it, and on the other one¡­


    Another boy¡¯s name was written there.


    ¡ª¡°Victorique.¡±


    *****


    Miss C¨¦cile regarded Kazuya with a smile that seemed to brook no dissent. Kazuya returned her gaze questioningly.


    ¡°See, these are notes from this morning¡¯s class. One set is yours. The other one belongs to another student who was also absent,¡± she said.


    ¡°I see¡­.¡±


    Kazuya realized that he had heard this name ¡°Victorique¡± somewhere before. In the classroom next to the windows, there was a seat that was always empty. The entire half-year that he had been studying here, he had never once seen the individual who should have been sitting in that seat.


    All he knew was that student¡¯s name. ¡°Victorique.¡±


    Actually, Kazuya had been wondering why he never once came to class¡­.


    Miss C¨¦cile smiled. ¡°Kujou, go back in the classroom as soon as possible. But first I want you to take these notes to this student. Can you do that for me?¡±


    Kazuya nodded. ¡°All right.¡±


    Inspector de Blois promptly flew into a rage. ¡°Out of the way, woman! You¡¯re obstructing the investigation!¡±


    ¡°If I could have a word with you, inspector.¡±


    Miss C¨¦cile planted both feet firmly on the floor, and turned to look at the inspector. Unnerved by her fearlessness, he shut his mouth.


    ¡°If you intend to treat him as a criminal, then please obtain an arrest warrant first. Otherwise, this is simply an abuse of your police powers, and I must protest against it, as a representative of this school!¡±


    The inspector stared at her with narrowed eyes.


    At last he slowly nodded. Then he said pompously, ¡°Hmph. If that¡¯s how it¡¯s going to be, then I¡¯ll apply for the warrant and receive it tomorrow. I shall pay you another visit at that time. I understand your desire to protect your beloved students, but take care not to forget the fact that history is littered with the many who lost their lives for the sake of heroism, my dear, gallant teacher¡­!¡±


    Miss C¨¦cile tugged Kazuya outside. He tumbled out of the gloomy room into the hallway. ¡°Miss C¨¦cile, um, thank you very¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it. Make sure you take this.¡± Miss C¨¦cile pushed the notes into Kazuya¡¯s hands, and began to walk down the hall. ¡°You¡¯re going to the library.¡±


    ¡°Th-the ¡­ library?¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± Miss C¨¦cile nodded.


    Kazuya mulled this over. For some reason, this Victorique, who was a chronic truant and a failing student, spent lots of time in the library. But why would such a person be in that kind of place instead of coming to class?


    In the back of Kazuya¡¯s mind, he could recall the way his classmates kept their distance from that seat by the window, as if they were afraid of something.


    But why? At any rate, the fact he had never seen this person¡¯s face even once was unusual in itself.


    Miss C¨¦cile smiled cheerfully. ¡°Go to the very top of the library. That child loves high places.¡±


    ¡°Is that right,¡± said Kazuya, his voice trailing off as he hung his head.


    Now he felt slightly hurt. He had taken great pains to come to class every day, to prepare and revise his lessons, to frantically study French, which was the national language, and learn Latin for a deeper understanding of literature. In the process, he had risen to the top of his class. But he had never been praised for any of this. Seeing his teacher talk about this truant student with a smile on her face felt like a betrayal.


    Only a few minutes ago the bizarre inspector had plunged him into the depths of terror, but now Kazuya felt himself sinking into an uncharacteristically sullen mood.


    ¡°There¡¯s a saying in my homeland, that smoke and a certain you-know-what like high places.¡±*


    ¡°Oh, Kujou, don¡¯t say that,¡± Miss C¨¦cile said, showing no sign of taking offense. Instead, she merely gave a queer chuckle.


    And then she said, almost dreamily, ¡°Actually, that child is a genius, you know¡­.¡±


    *****


    *¡°Smoke and fools like high places¡± is a Japanese proverb that is used to refer to the dangers of people getting too carried away with thinking too highly of themselves.

 Volume 1 - CH 1.3

    [3]


    What could possibly cause a teacher to ignore a talented, elite student, who had come all the way from the Far East, in favor of praising a perpetual truant as a genius?


    Kazuya pondered this as he walked along the campus road.


    The sulky expression on his face notwithstanding, his conscientious nature compelled him to carry out his task of delivering the notes to the library. He walked through school grounds which were lavishly arrayed in the form of a French garden. A lush, inviting lawn spread out in between fountains, flower beds, and streams that were placed here and there. Kazuya trudged down a path lined with white gravel that ran beside the lawn.


    He arrived at a substantially built structure that was hidden behind the main campus buildings.


    This was St. Marguerite¡¯s Library.


    Huge bookshelves lined every wall in a square, hollow building. Looking up from the central atrium, he saw a sublime piece of religious art painted on the ceiling far above. Below it was a narrow wooden staircase that twined itself from bookshelf to bookshelf, twisting precariously upward like an enormous labyrinth.


    According to legend, the early seventeenth century king who founded the school deliberately constructed this library in the form of a maze in order to hide a room at the very top that he used to rendezvous with his lover.


    But now this library was shrouded in silence. The tangible scent of dust, mildew, and knowledge hung in the air.


    Kazuya lifted his gaze, overcome by a feeling of reverence. And then¡­


    Near the ceiling, he saw something that resembled a golden belt dangling in the air.


    ¡­What could that be?


    For a moment, he cocked his head in puzzlement. Then he began to ascend the labyrinthine stairs.


    They stretched from wall to wall. Taking careful steps, he slowly ascended closer and closer to the ceiling. It was like walking a tightrope. He trembled as he climbed the narrow stairs, taking care not to look down.


    Growing more exhausted by the minute, he grumbled to himself indignantly, Why do I have to come all the way over here for the sake of some truant failure of a student¡­. But before he knew it, he found the dangling golden belt right before his eyes.


    He saw a thin white column of smoke drift to the ceiling.


    Kazuya hesitantly took the final step.


    And found himself in a garden.


    *****


    Surprisingly enough, the very top of the library was in fact a conservatory thick with vegetation. A soothing glow emanated from skylights, illuminating the plants as they swayed in a gentle breeze. Contrary to the legend of the king¡¯s secret rendezvous, here there was merely a sunlit, and empty, room.


    Someone had placed a large porcelain doll on the landing of the stairs to the conservatory, as if abandoning it there.


    It was a marvelous doll, close to life-sized at around one hundred and forty centimeters. It wore a black dress with plush velvet frills billowing out from waist to hem in countless layers, like a small, unearthly flower blooming at dusk. From underneath a white headdress, embroidered with roses and lace ribbons, flowed long, splendid blond hair, spilling down to the floor as if it were a velvet turban come undone.


    The profile of her face revealed a cold sort of beauty, ambiguous in whether it belonged to an adult or a child.


    This exquisite doll strewn on the landing of the stairs was coolly, languidly, smoking a pipe.


    ¡­A doll smoking a pipe?!


    Suddenly, the doll ¡­ no, the girl, slowly opened her mouth. ¡°So, it wasn¡¯t enough that you were late to class, but on top of that, you¡¯ve decided to come play truant in the library? Of course, you may do as you wish, but at least go somewhere else so that you aren¡¯t in my way.¡±


    She closed her mouth just as slowly.


    Kazuya gasped, startled at the unexpected sound of a husky voice, akin to that of an old woman. There was an astonishing disparity between her appearance and her voice. Her delicate body, which was enveloped in frills and lace as gorgeous as anyone could dream of, was so tiny that one couldn¡¯t imagine that it had been born into this world more than a few years ago. But her voice sounded as mature as someone who had already lived for decades¡­.


    The girl paid no heed to Kazuya, who stood staring dazedly at her cold and beautiful form, so perfect that she could easily be mistaken for a doll. She returned to silently smoking her pipe, saying nothing more.


    At last, Kazuya recovered his composure. ¡°Huh? ¡­ Might you be Victorique, by any chance?¡±


    There was no answer. He continued hesitantly, ¡°If you are, then, I¡¯m supposed to give these these notes to you¡­.¡±


    The girl¡ªVictorique¡ªwordlessly extended her hand.


    Kazuya took a few steps forward, and held out the stack of notes to her. In the still atmosphere, his footsteps sounded startlingly loud, causing him to wince instinctively. Feeling like a oafish intruder into a tranquil paradise, he blushed despite himself.


    And he quietly observed her.


    ¡­So that delinquent turned out to be a girl. And an incredible beauty at that. I even thought she was a doll at first. But she somehow seems like ¡­ no, she definitely is ¡­ a very strange kid.


    Still puffing away on her pipe, she stretched out her unoccupied hand to receive the notes. Then this peculiar girl abruptly parted her small, cherry-red lips. ¡°By the way, who the devil are you?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± Kazuya shrank back, then blushed again without knowing why. ¡°I¡¯m ¡­ Kujou. I¡¯m in the same class as you. Although we¡¯ve never met before.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re an Oriental.¡±


    At this, the girl inexplicably smirked. The sudden transformation of her chilly facial expression seemed positively maniacal. The effect made Kazuya shudder.


    She gleefully continued in a husky murmur. ¡°I see. I suppose this makes you the ¡®reaper who comes in spring,¡¯ then.¡±


    ¡°¡­Huh?¡± Kazuya stumbled at the unfamiliar phrase.


    The girl grinned. ¡°Oh, you didn¡¯t know? It¡¯s something to do with this decrepit, superstitious school. One of its many inane ghost stories. ¡®The traveler who comes in spring brings death to the school.¡¯ Don¡¯t ask me why, but the students here love their ghost stories. And you make eminently suitable material for one. At any rate, the end result is that everyone is afraid of you and no one would dare approach you.¡±


    ¡°Wh-what¡­?¡±


    Kazuya stood rooted to the ground, momentarily dumbstruck.


    He felt the sensation of a gaping hole forming in his heart.


    In his mind¡¯s eye, he could visualize himself sitting in the classroom alone, the young aristocrats keeping their distance from him as they whispered amongst themselves. He thought of the way the boy sitting in the seat next to him always found an excuse to leave whenever Kazuya tried to talk to him, as if he were trying to escape¡­ These scenes and more flashed through his mind.


    For the past half year, no matter how much he agonized over the fact that he couldn¡¯t make any friends, he never could have imagined that the cause would be some superstition like this.


    Kazuya felt his mood souring. ¡°But, but that makes no sense. I mean, it was months ago that I came here. It was in autumn. See, how do you explain that?¡±


    The girl¡¯s profile warped into a sneer. ¡°Hmm, is that so?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡±


    ¡°Well, as far as they¡¯re concerned, it doesn¡¯t matter either way. After all, a black-haired Oriental of few words is an ideal fit for the image of the Grim Reaper.¡±


    Kazuya froze in shock. But the girl didn¡¯t bother to make the slightest glance in his direction. Her face revealed nothing more than her usual coldness.


    For a minute, he glared at her. Her expression was dispassionate and unyielding, on the verge of defiance, the sort of face he had grown thoroughly sick of in the months since he had come to Sauvure. In her countenance, he recognized the haughty attitude peculiar to the aristocracy.


    Kazuya suddenly felt a combination of unease and resentment. His negative feelings against the upper-class society that he had worked so hard to fit into began to bubble up and seethe in his chest.


    He turned back toward the labyrinthine staircase.


    His feet had already descended a few steps when something occurred to him.


    Kazuya stopped and looked back at the girl, then addressed her in a low voice. ¡°Say ¡­ um, Victorique.¡±


    ¡°¡­What do you want?¡± she responded, as if it were hugely bothersome for her to do so.


    Undeterred, Kazuya asked, ¡°How did you know I was late for class?¡±


    The girl sneered. ¡°Hmph. It¡¯s very simple. An overflowing wellspring of wisdom told it to me.¡±


    ¡°And what does that mean¡­?¡±


    ¡°It happened something like this,¡± Victorique said, raising her husky voice triumphantly. ¡°Kujou, I have determined that you are a methodical, damnably earnest, bore of a man.¡±


    ¡°H-hey!¡±


    ¡°And yet, what has happened to your necktie? It ought to be neatly in place around your neck, but one can see that it has been shoved into your pocket instead. For this reason, I have deduced that you likely had to leave your dormitory in a rush.¡±


    Kazuya instinctively touched his hand to his neck. True to her words, the tie that should have been neatly in place was missing. Instead, it was stuffed into his pocket, still untied.


    ¡°And then, there¡¯s that smell,¡± Victorique continued.


    ¡°Huh? What smell?¡±


    ¡°Yes, the savory smell of bread. Why would you be carrying bread around with you when lunch is still hours away? In other words, if we look in your other pocket¡­¡±


    Kazuya put his hand into the pocket that did not contain the necktie, and pulled out the sandwich that the housemother had shoved inside when he left the dormitory. It had been mostly squashed, but still smelled good.


    ¡°The breakfast you should have already eaten is still in your pocket. From this, we can tell that you were running late. That is all. Do you understand now?¡±


    Seemingly tired of talking, Victorique stretched, and opened her mouth widely in a weary yawn. Her small body elongated to a surprising span, the movement reminiscent of a stretching kitten. The slightest trace of teardrops collected in the corners of her eyes. Following this, she began to lazily smoke her pipe once more.


    Then she noticed Kazuya staring at her curiously, much the way one would stare at some unidentifiable object. She shrugged her shoulders helplessly. ¡°Hey! This is quite bothersome ¡­ but I shall explain it to you in greater detail.¡±


    ¡°Yes, please¡­¡±


    ¡°I am honing my senses.¡±


    ¡°¡­I¡¯m sorry?¡±


    ¡°And so, using this ¡®wellspring of wisdom¡¯ of mine, I take fragments that I have collected from the chaos of the world and amuse myself with them to pass the time.¡±


    ¡°Chaos¡­? Fragments? Wellspring of wisdom?¡±


    ¡°Correct. Would it be easier for you to understand if I were to say that I reconstruct them?¡±


    ¡°¡­Reconstruct?¡±


    ¡°Occasionally, when I¡¯m in the mood, I may even articulate the process so that a mediocre person like you may also understand.¡±


    ¡°¡­.¡±


    ¡°Oh, how bothersome it is to explain such things. Well ¡­ do you understand now?¡±


    Still completely bewildered, Kazuya couldn¡¯t think of anything to say in response.


    But he did feel a little put out.


    What¡¯s with this attitude of hers. And I don¡¯t quite understand what she¡¯s talking about¡­. Well, at least it¡¯s true that her deduction was correct. As much as I¡¯m reluctant to admit it, this ¡°wellspring of wisdom¡± or whatever it is seems to be pretty effective. But still, why does she have to be so¡­


    Kazuya was growing steadily more exasperated. Victorique¡¯s aloof, disdainful manner was on the verge of becoming completely unbearable, especially coming from a failing student who wouldn¡¯t even bother to come to class.


    Thoroughly irritated, Kazuya began his rebuttal. ¡°But what about you? Aren¡¯t you late for class and here to play truant, too? And you dare make fun of me for that? That¡¯s completely unfair!¡±


    ¡°Hmph.¡± Victorique snickered scornfully. ¡°I¡¯m not like you.¡±


    ¡°And how are you different?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not late. I¡¯ve been here all day.¡±


    Kazuya frowned. ¡°What does that mean? What on earth have you been doing here all by yourself?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m meditating.¡±


    Kazuya took one step up the stairs.


    Only now did he notice the curious sight surrounding Victorique as she sat flat on the ground of the conservatory.


    Countless open books were placed on the floor, radiating around her in all directions. Books in Latin, books of advanced mathematics, classical literature, biology¡­ Any one of them on its own would have been fearsomely difficult to decipher. Kazuya gasped.


    This girl¡­ Don¡¯t tell me she¡¯s reading all of those simultaneously? Now that I think of it, during this whole time that she¡¯s been smoking her pipe and talking to me, I saw her stretch out her hand from time to time. That must¡¯ve been her turning the pages. And as she was reading, at the same time she was still able to make deductions based on my behavior!


    Kazuya felt a sudden chill race down his spine as Miss C¨¦cile¡¯s mellifluous voice replayed in his head. Actually, that child is a genius, you know¡­.


    For a moment, he gazed at her in awe. She continued skimming through the esoteric-looking books, a remarkably listless and disinterested expression on her face.


    Without quite understanding why, Kazuya was beginning to feel increasingly combative toward this strange, brilliant girl and her surly disdain. He decided that he would try to throw her off guard.


    ¡°But I¡¯m sure you could never guess the reason I was late, could you?¡±


    There was a beat of silence.


    Then, for the first time, Victorique lifted her head to face him directly.


    And Kazuya felt his heart skip a beat.


    Large, shining-green eyes gazed at him. Like some mystical jewel, they sparkled with an otherworldly glow, bathing her corner of the empty garden with shimmering light. Their contrast with her long, vibrantly lustrous blond hair pierced him through his chest.


    And that indescribable visage filled with a profound sadness, as if she were an old woman who had lived for far too long¡­


    She¡¯s lovely¡­!


    Unexpectedly, Kazuya felt his heart shaken to its core. For reasons that were unclear even to himself, he found the sensation infuriating.


    Struggling to regain his senses, he took a deep breath. ¡°Actually, it¡¯s because of a murder case.¡±


    He heard a soft plopping sound.


    The pipe fell from Victorique¡¯s mouth.


    It had fallen on top of her sumptuously frilly dress. Kazuya hastily retrieved it, brushing off her lap with his other hand, checking to make sure no ash had spilled out. Victorique parted her thin lips, jutting them out as if asking him to place the pipe in its original position. He gently inserted the pipe back inside. In reaction to Kazuya¡¯s instinctive gesture of gentlemanly assistance, she paused, frowning at him suspiciously.


    Finally, she removed the pipe from her mouth and said, ¡°Huh!¡±


    Kazuya grimaced. Without realizing it, he had calmed down enough to sit on the floor next to her. ¡°And that¡¯s all you have to say?!¡± he grumbled.


    ¡°¡­Would you rather I say something like, ¡®no less from the Grim Reaper¡¯?¡±


    For a moment, Kazuya felt abashed. Then he collected himself, and said, ¡°Now you listen here! You ought to know that I was in serious trouble this morning. I was a witness to a murder case, and treated like a criminal by some police inspector with a weird hairstyle!¡±


    ¡°Mmm? An inspector with a weird hairstyle?¡± An odd expression crossed Victorique¡¯s face, but by that time Kazuya was too agitated to notice.


    ¡°¡­What if I end up actually getting convicted as a murderer. I don¡¯t want to be hanged to death in a foreign land. Or what if I get deported back to my home country? ¡­ Oh, why did this have to happen, when I¡¯ve done nothing but study as diligently as possible these past few months¡­. This is just terrible!¡±


    ¡°¡­A police inspector with a weird hairstyle, you said?¡±


    Puzzled, Kazuya looked up at her and nodded. ¡°Yes. Why do you ask?¡±


    Victorique¡¯s lips curled in a fiendish smile. As she smirked, she took a vigorous puff on her pipe, then exhaled audibly.


    A line of white smoke floated toward the ceiling.


    In a split-second, her entire demeanor changed as if something had suddenly piqued her interest, and she turned around to face Kazuya. ¡°Tell me what happened. I will reconstruct the chaos for you.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    Victorique snapped back impatiently, ¡°I am telling you that I am going to use my wellspring of wisdom to help you.¡±


    ¡°¡­Why?¡± Baffled by the sudden smirk that appeared on Victorique¡¯s face, he gave the tiny, beautiful girl a skeptical glance.


    Victorique replied in a clear and distinct voice, with no trace of hesitation. ¡°To relieve my boredom, of course.¡±


    *****


    Victorique dragged a summary of the day¡¯s events out of Kazuya, despite his reluctance to tell her. His agitation from earlier had evaporated from his body, and now he was left hanging his head in utter dejection. It was all thanks to what Victorique had said.


    ¡°Tell me not only what you saw, but also what you were thinking at the time. Describe everything in detail, down to the hole in your ass.¡±


    ¡°N-no way. I can¡¯t tell you everything I was thinking. A gentleman should be allowed a few playful secrets¡­.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re a gentleman, then I¡¯m a goddess. Enough with your pointless, idiotic excuses. Now, speak!¡±


    Startled by Victorique¡¯s sharp tongue, Kazuya¡¯s mind froze, and he was unable to resist her. He had never been spoken to by a woman in such a intimidating way. In the country where he had grown up, he was used to women being much more reserved and obedient creatures.


    And thus he found himself giving her every intimate detail about his daydream that he had sworn to never reveal to anyone, about an ¡°ideal encounter¡± with ¡°his very own girl.¡± Naturally, this was the first time in his fifteen years of existence that he had ever told anyone about this kind of fantasy. As he spoke, he sank further and further down into the deepest depths of shame. To borrow an expression that his father would often use, it felt as if the ball containing his soul had been stolen. He clasped his arms around his knees and bowed his head.


    ¡°¡­So that¡¯s how it is. I get the idea now.¡± Victorique smoked her pipe and nodded as if thoroughly satisfied. She showed no indication of acknowledging Kazuya¡¯s despair.


    And then she uttered something particularly cruel.


    ¡°What that inspector with the weird hairstyle said makes plenty of sense now.¡±


    Kazuya recovered his senses with a jolt. He thought he could feel a little bit of his soul reenter his body. ¡°How can you say such a thing?! I absolutely did not¡ª¡±


    ¡°Shut up.¡±


    ¡°¡­Okay.¡±


    ¡°Think about it. First of all, it¡¯s impossible to jump on a motorbike while it¡¯s in motion and cut someone¡¯s head off. It would have likewise been impossible for someone to have quickly jumped off the bike after committing the crime. That¡¯s because, when you encountered the bike right after it had crashed into the wall, there was no one else but you at the scene of the crime.¡±


    Kazuya nodded. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s right. It¡¯s true that nobody else was there.¡±


    ¡°So, when could the crime have been committed?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­¡±


    ¡°Probably after the bike had come to a stop. And the only one there was you, Kujou. Which means¡­¡±


    Kazuya was starting to get a bad feeling about this. It reminded him of how he felt in that gloomy room with the globe and the medieval weapons when Inspector de Blois had suddenly pointed his finger at him.


    And now suddenly, just as the inspector had done, Victorique pointed her pipe at Kazuya, and said, ¡°You are the killer!¡±


    Kazuya, now on the verge of tears, could not manage a response.


    With a hint of a devilish smile on her lips, Victorique gave him a cool stare. ¡°¡­And wouldn¡¯tthat be amusing!¡±


    ¡°Are you making fun of me?!¡± Kazuya jumped up to his feet in rage.


    Victorique¡¯s face abruptly turned solemn. She looked up at him and said in her husky voice, ¡°But you know, when the inspector was suspecting you of being the killer, he was probably basing his inference on the same thought process. In other words, unless we find the real killer and clear you of suspicion, you will most likely be deported, and in the worst case scenario, this country will put you to death by hanging. How dreadful for you!¡±


    Kazuya¡¯s face drained of all color. He sat down heavily and clutched his head. Scenes from his hometown, first of his parents, then the faces of his family and friends that he had left behind, once again began to whirl through his mind.


    Victorique gave him a sidelong glance. Then she turned back to her books, flipping the pages as if nothing had happened.


    After a few moments, she yawned. ¡°Well, at least I know the truth,¡± she muttered under her breath, then took another drag on her pipe.


    From the skylights, rays of warm springtime sunshine illuminated the conservatory. A gentle breeze occasionally wafted through the air, ruffling the leaves of the palm trees, large red flowers, and Victorique¡¯s blond hair.


    Several seconds elapsed.


    Then Kazuya slowly raised his head. ¡°¡­Did you just say that you knew the truth?¡±


    Victorique said nothing. Kazuya peered into her face, but she was busily immersing herself into her books as if she had forgotten he was there. She turned the pages with remarkable speed.


    ¡°Hey.¡±


    ¡°¡­Mmm?¡±


    Victorique looked up at him, seemingly returning from her reverie. She nodded listlessly. ¡°Oh, of course I know. The words ¡®I don¡¯t know¡¯ aren¡¯t written in my dictionary. I know everything¡­. What about it?¡±


    Kazuya stamped his feet in impatience. ¡°¡¯What about it?¡¯ ¡­ Then tell me!¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡± A look of bafflement crossed Victorique¡¯s face. In a deeply mystified tone, she asked, ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡ªAnd then, for countless minutes afterward, Kazuya attempted to persuade Victorique, mustering up every argument he could possibly think of, shedding tears of anger all the while.


    In the meantime, Victorique continued to avidly read her books, coolly pretending not to listen. At last, when he had succeeded in beating down her resistance, she lifted her head to him. ¡°By the way.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes!¡±


    ¡°I consider tedium to be my greatest enemy.¡±


    ¡°¡­Okay?¡± Kazuya didn¡¯t quite catch her meaning.


    Victorique continued in an oddly exultant tone. ¡°It¡¯s the same when it comes to food. Rather than eat something banal, I think it¡¯s better to go hungry. Isn¡¯t this the very point of possessing intelligence?¡±


    ¡°Right¡­¡±


    Growing impatient with Kazuya¡¯s lack of understanding, Victorique swiftly pushed her face close to his. ¡°Tomorrow you will bring me some food from the country of your birth.¡±


    ¡°Why? Will that help you think?¡±


    ¡°Of course not. It¡¯s just food.¡± Victorique snorted. ¡°So, this is how it¡¯s going to work. If the food you bring is unusual, tasty, and suits my fancy, then perhaps I might feel like rescuing you.¡±


    ¡°What?!¡± Kazuya cried out in dismay. ¡°Don¡¯t you¡­ Don¡¯t you have any sense of compassion?!¡± he asked falteringly.


    ¡°Compassion?¡± Victorique repeated mockingly. ¡°Oh, that. That sort of thing is where intelligence goes to die.¡±


    Laughing scornfully, she shooed Kazuya away with a wave of her tiny hand.


    *****


    Kazuya stumbled out of the library in a state of utter shock. A leather-covered door arrayed with round metal tacks closed behind him with a heavy thud.


    As he stood on the lawn in a daze, two men wearing rabbit-skin hunting caps approached, skipping in tandem, from beyond the campus road. They were the deputies of the inspector Gr¨¦ville de Blois, and they were holding hands despite both being men. The two of them passed in front of Kazuya, then nimbly skipped back to him as if he had caught their attention.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s Kujou! Are you perhaps not feeling well?¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m not feeling well,¡± answered Kazuya flatly. The two deputies looked at each other, then for some reason burst into laughter.


    ¡°Um¡­ Am I really going to be arrested?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, probably tomorrow!¡± they said, cheerfully and without any hesitation.


    Kazuya held his head in his hands.


    ¡°I mean, there weren¡¯t any suspicious people there except you, Kujou!¡±


    ¡°Besides, we could never disobey Inspector de Blois!¡±


    ¡°¡­What do you mean by that?¡±


    The two men exchanged a look. ¡°Yeah¡­ Well, the truth is, he never actually attended the police academy. He¡¯s just the son of some aristocrat. For some reason, he wanted to work for the police, so he was granted a position in the village police station.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why we¡¯re here to keep an eye on him. But sometimes he can get a bit carried away with himself.¡±


    ¡°The whims of the nobility can sure put you in a right pickle!¡±


    Seeing Kazuya¡¯s look of surprise, they added, ¡°But you know what, that inspector, sometimes he spots the culprit straightaway. He may say some strange things at first, but then the next day, he¡¯s so sharp, he¡¯s practically a different person!¡±


    ¡°I know! It¡¯s almost like he¡¯s some kind of genius!¡±


    ¡°Ha, ha, ha!¡±


    Laughing gaily, the two men took their leave, skipping all the way. Kazuya watched them depart, his mouth hanging open in shock. Then, feeling the weight of the dire situation he found himself in, he sighed heavily.


    Oh, I¡¯ve had enough. You aristocrats and you geniuses can all just go to hell¡­!


    Now in a bitterly foul mood, he started to walk again. The sky was darkening, and a cold wind began to chill his skin. The road back to the dormitory was utterly quiet, making Kazuya feel as if he were the only person left in the school.


    Once he returned to his room, he would have to ransack the packages his family had sent from home, and find some food that would suit the fancy of that eccentric young lady¡­

 Volume 1 - CH 1.4

    [4]


    The very next day, the sky was shrouded in ominous grey clouds, making yesterday¡¯s fine weather feel like a distant memory.


    At slightly past seven in the morning, someone knocked on the door of Kazuya¡¯s room in the boys¡¯ dormitory. He had just finished washing his face and combing his hair, and was in the middle of fastening his tie when he opened the door. There he saw the worried face of the housemother, her red hair shaking to and fro.


    ¡°Kujou! I heard something terrible happened to you yesterday. I¡¯m sorry! It¡¯s all my fault for asking that weird favor of you¡­.¡±


    ¡°Not at all. I¡¯d rather ask, were you able to manage with yesterday¡¯s breakfast?¡±


    ¡°¡­I got yelled at.¡± She hung her head.


    Before she answered, Kazuya held out a bag filled with unfamiliar-looking tiny pink, orange, and yellow pellets for her inspection. The housemother took a sniff.


    ¡°¡­What¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s candy, but what do you think of it?¡±


    ¡°I guess ¡­ it looks tasty?¡±


    ¡°Good. I¡¯ll go with this, then,¡± Kazuya said, nodding as if relieved over something.


    Before closing the door, the housemother peered inside curiously. The normally spotlessly tidy room of an honors student was now cluttered with suitcases that had been dragged out and piled into a heap.


    Kujou, what on earth have you been doing¡­?


    She walked away, shaking her head.


    *****


    Kazuya walked to class, still cradling the bag of candy. Since last night, he had searched every nook and cranny of the luggage he had brought from his home, until finally locating some sweets that looked like something a girl would like, at least in his opinion. Under the cloudy sky, he approached the stately, U-shaped main building. As soon as he entered his classroom, the young aristocrats shied away from him the way they always did. Their eyes darted nervously in his direction, but avoided direct eye contact.


    Kazuya ignored them, and searched for the empty seat by the window. Once again, there was no one in Victorique¡¯s seat, and no indication that its intended occupant would be coming to class today.


    I knew she wouldn¡¯t be in the classroom¡­. I guess I have no choice but to go to the library during the lunch break, he said to himself with a nod. But at that very moment¡­


    From the hallway, the voices of two quarreling adults, a man and a woman, grew steadily louder.


    ¡°This is unjust!¡±


    ¡°Ha, ha, ha! Today I brought the arrest warrant, just as you asked! A foreign student committing a political killing! That certainly sounds like a recipe for an international incident!¡±


    Kazuya jumped up in alarm. Apparently, Inspector de Blois had arrived sooner than he thought, and this time he came armed with an arrest warrant.


    He opened a classroom window, clutching the bag of candy in one hand. Tuning out the clamorous shouts of his classmates, he closed his eyes and jumped from the second story. For someone as serious and strait-laced as Kazuya, it was naturally the first time in his life that he had ever left a classroom through an exit other than the door.


    Trembling inwardly, he landed in a somersault atop the lawn in the courtyard.


    Ouch!


    Adding insult to the injury of his mental turmoil, among the uproar of voices emanating from the classroom overhead he heard overlapping shouts of, ¡°Look!¡± ¡°The Grim Reaper escaped!¡±


    Kazuya glared at the window indignantly. ¡­Damn it. So they really have been calling me ¡°The Grim Reaper¡± behind my back!


    *****


    Kazuya rushed headlong into the library, then frantically ran up the maze-like stairs.


    He shakily ascended the staircase, rising higher and higher toward the solemn religious fresco that looked down on him from the distant ceiling. And today, just as before, he spotted something like a golden belt hanging down from between segments of railing. From time to time it swayed invitingly, rustled by a stealthy breeze.


    ¡°¡­Victorique!¡±


    When he had at last reached the conservatory, Kazuya found Victorique sitting in exactly the same position as yesterday, surrounded by plants, listlessly skimming through opened books that lay radiating about her in all directions. He approached her, panting wearily.


    Victorique lifted her face from her books, and murmured in a voice filled with boredom, ¡°Oh, you again.¡± She languorously took a puff from her pipe. ¡°It must be very lonely having no friends, Kujou.¡±


    The sudden insult made Kazuya flinch. ¡°This isn¡¯t the time for one of your jokes,¡± he said, taking a seat. ¡°Never mind that. Come on, don¡¯t forget what we agreed upon yesterday!¡±


    ¡°¡­And what was that?¡±


    ¡°You said you would solve the case for me! You were going to tell me the whole story behind the murder!¡±


    Victorique looked up at Kazuya, staring at him blankly. Finally, she gave a grunt, and nodded as if remembering something.


    And she promptly held out her tiny hand.


    Kazuya sighed, and deposited the bag of candy into her palm. She opened the bag with a surprising degree of eagerness.


    ¡°¡­Munch, munch. What is this?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s called hina-arare.¡±


    ¡°It has an unusual flavor. Munch, munch¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­.¡±


    She continued chewing.


    ¡°¡­.¡±


    Then chewed some more.


    ¡°¡­Um, sorry to interrupt, but¡­¡±


    In the manner of a small animal cutely chomping on its food, Victorique gnawed away at the exotic sweets. Seemingly enchanted by the unusual taste and shape, she grabbed the candies with her tiny hand and rapturously shoved them into her mouth, chewing with gusto.


    His nerves on a razor¡¯s edge, Kazuya waited for Victorique to acknowledge his presence again. He was becoming more anxious by the second.


    I put all of my hopes on this girl¡­. But if I really think about it, I know nothing about who she is, or whether she really knows how to solve the case. If it turns out that she made everything up just to get me to bring her some sweets, I don¡¯t know what I¡¯ll do. And there¡¯s already an arrest warrant out for me¡­


    The footsteps of someone walking into the atrium echoed from far below. Kazuya peeked over the railing, and upon seeing a golden-tipped head pointing back at him, quickly jumped back. He heard Inspector de Blois run to the interior of the hall where there was a hydraulic elevator reserved for staff use.


    The iron cage emitted a coarse groan, beginning its slow ascent.


    Nearly in tears, Kazuya blurted out loudly, ¡°It¡¯ll become an international incident!¡±


    Victorique¡¯s hand, which had been reaching for more candy, stopped in midair. She looked up at Kazuya.


    In a trembling voice, he cried out, ¡°My dad is going to kill me! No, more like I¡¯ll be hanged to death instead! Yes, I¡¯m going to die on foreign soil! Although I¡¯d really rather not!¡±


    Victorique¡¯s mouth dropped open, and she stared at Kazuya in amazement for what felt like a very long time.


    Then, with an impish smile on her face, she muttered, ¡°¡­The Grim Reaper is crying.¡±


    Kazuya turned to look at her. ¡°S-stop that!¡±


    ¡°¡­It was a joke.¡±


    ¡°A joke?! Someone¡¯s life is hanging in the balance, and you¡¯re making a joke?! You ought to know that there are things you should and shouldn¡¯t say¨C Why are you smiling?! Cut that out! Seriously¡­¡±


    The more Kazuya earnestly protested, the more the gleeful smile on Victorique¡¯s face widened. ¡°Now, now, just calm down,¡± she said, sounding positively jubilant.


    ¡°Calm down? You think I can calm down in a situation like this? What good will that do me? I ought to start running instead. I feel like running as far as I can, and screaming all the way. Ugh! Ugh!¡± Each time he moaned, his face grew redder and redder.


    The iron cage creaked as it climbed slowly to the top.


    Victorique stopped smiling. With a touch of disgust, she said, ¡°Shut up. You are leaving me no choice. I¡¯ll explain things to you now.¡±


    ¡°Hurry, hurry!¡± Kazuya stamped his foot.


    Victorique took a leisurely puff from her pipe. ¡°Now listen carefully. If you want to cut the head off a person riding a motorbike, there is no need to get on the bike, or to even go near it.¡±


    ¡°Why? Ugh!¡±


    ¡°Because it¡¯s enough for the person on the bike himself to be traveling at a high rate of speed.¡±


    ¡°Ugh! Ugh! ¡­ Wait, what do you mean?¡±


    Composure returned to Kazuya¡¯s face. He recovered the poise he normally possessed as an accomplished student, and immediately sat down, maintaining ramrod straight posture as he concentrated on Victorique¡¯s explanation.


    She stretched her thin arms out in either direction. ¡°Just think: what would happen if you took a wire or something like that, and hung it out across the path of a motorbike? This is on a road where your target is sure to pass through, and at a time when there won¡¯t be anyone else around. The bike would speed up through this area, and the wire would cut the rider¡¯s head off. The killer could then untie the wire and escape.¡±


    Feeling disoriented, Kazuya stared at Victorique. He wiped the sweat from his brow, and took a deep breath. ¡°I, I see¡­.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh.¡±


    ¡°But still, Victorique, um, as far as any proof goes¡­¡±


    Victorique calmly took a drag from her pipe. ¡°Most likely, when you walked by at that time of morning when it would usually be deserted, the killer had no choice but to flee upon hearing your scream¡­. Well, I won¡¯t say it¡¯s completely impossible, you know. There¡¯s still a chance that he could have left without retrieving¡ª¡±


    The iron cage screeched, just inches from the top. There was a moment of ominous silence, then a loud clunk as it locked into place.


    The iron gate opened.


    Beyond the lush greenery, the inspector with the hairstyle molded into a strange shape stood inside, striking a pose.


    When he caught sight of Victorique face to face with Kazuya in the conservatory, his eyes opened wide in shock.


    Oh? Kazuya noticed the change in the inspector¡¯s expression. Do these two know each other? He looked over at Victorique. She pretended not to see the inspector, instead firmly shifting her gaze to her books as if she wanted to bury her face in them. Well, that¡¯sinteresting¡­


    The inspector, seeming to finally collect his wits, turned to Kazuya. In his hand he gripped a blood-stained spool of wire, and he held it up in Kazuya¡¯s direction, raised one leg, and shouted, ¡°Ha, ha, ha! Here¡¯s your proof!¡±


    His shout reverberated in the quiet garden.


    ¡°This was found near the crime scene! It was tied between some nearby trees. Hmm¡­ I¡¯m not quite sure how, but this must be your doing! You¡¯re under arrest, you international murderer, you!¡±


    Kazuya couldn¡¯t help smiling assuredly in response, and he turned to Victorique, saying, ¡°Go ahead, Victorique. Tell the inspector what you figured out.¡±


    She did not respond.


    He found her busily chewing the hina-arare, her mouth crammed shut. She looked at him, then shrugged her shoulders as if to say she didn¡¯t feel like talking, and resumed her reading.


    ¡°Um¡­ Victorique?¡±


    Inspector de Blois started to walk toward Kazuya slowly.


    Trembling, Kazuya cried out, ¡°It wasn¡¯t me! Listen, inspector!¡±


    *****


    Kazuya was forced to argue for his own innocence. But in the middle of his explanation to the inspector, Victorique suddenly began to scrutinize the blood-stained wire from every angle, as if she had regained interest in the proceedings.


    The inspector appeared to have tentatively accepted his explanation of how the wire had been used, although it still took quite a bit of time before he agreed to release Kazuya as a suspect. Once the inspector finally relented, Kazuya slumped down to the floor in exhaustion.


    Victorique spared him not a moment¡¯s glance. ¡°Gr¨¦ville,¡± she said, raising her head abruptly.


    The inspector¡¯s cheek twitched. ¡°Wh-what do you want?¡±


    Kazuya observed him carefully, noting his change in expression.


    Inspector de Blois¡¯ face had inexplicably stiffened, his expression resembling that of a frightened child. He seemed to be unusually petrified of Victorique¡ªtiny Victorique, engulfed in frills¡ªas if she held some kind of overwhelming power.


    In that instant, Kazuya perceived the roles of adult and child switching places, accompanied by an almost palpable ringing sound. It was a startling sight.


    The inspector opened his quivering lips. ¡°I, I don¡¯t n-need your help anymore!¡±


    Victorique smiled scornfully. ¡°As you wish.¡±


    ¡°Um, I guess you two know each other?¡± Kazuya said.


    There was no reply from either quarter. Deflated, he said nothing more.


    Inspector de Blois squared his shoulders and stepped back into the metal cage of the elevator. The iron-latticed gate closed behind him.


    A breeze blew in from the skylights, rustling the fronds of the palm trees.


    Victorique¡¯s soft voice broke the stillness. ¡°The real killer is a blond girl. Her fingers are wounded.¡±


    The inspector turned around, a look of surprise on his face. ¡°H-how¡­?¡±


    ¡°Check the surgical hospitals, Gr¨¦ville.¡±


    The iron cage dropped below the floor with a clang, and inspector¡¯s dumbfounded face disappeared with the rest of him.


    *****


    Once the inspector had left the scene, Victorique began to lethargically smoke her pipe once more, seeming to have lost all interest in the world around her. She returned to slowly flipping the pages of her books as if nothing had happened.


    Kazuya, finally recovering from his bewilderment, called out to her. ¡°Hey, Victorique.¡±


    ¡°¡­.¡±


    ¡°I said, hey. What happened just now?¡±


    Victorique raised her head reluctantly. ¡°¡­Hmm? Oh, that was the result of my meditation. My overflowing wellspring of wisdom has informed me so.¡±


    She lapsed into silence.


    Then, defeated by Kazuya¡¯s persistent gaze, she looked up at him and said peevishly, ¡°Think about it, Kujou. Why would the culprit choose such an elaborate method of killing? There are any number of easier and quicker ways to do it: stabbing, bludgeoning, shooting¡­¡±


    ¡°W-well, yes¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s because she was afraid of the victim,¡± Victorique continued, taking another piece of candy. ¡°The killer is a woman, or possibly a child. And the victim was an adult man. The killer was afraid of confronting him directly on her own, so she chose this method of killing him remotely. So it gives me the impression of someone physically much weaker.¡±


    ¡°Then what about the wounds on her fingers?¡±


    ¡°When I inspected the wire, I saw that not only was there blood on the section that cut off the victim¡¯s head, but also small bloodstains on the ends. That was the perpetrator¡¯s blood. It¡¯s probable that the killer inadvertently sliced her fingers when she was setting up and removing the wire.¡±


    From his seated position, Kazuya casually reached out to take some hina-arare for himself. It was ages since he¡¯d last eaten this type of candy, and he savored the familiar flavor.


    Then he asked in an even more inquisitive tone, ¡°But how did you get that it was a blond girl?¡±


    ¡°That was from that embarrassing daydream of yours, Kujou.¡±


    Kazuya jumped up with a screech, accidentally swallowing the piece of candy.


    But Victorique showed no interest in his agitation. In a voice unchanged in its diffidence, she replied, ¡°You know, humans are creatures who react in response to visual stimuli. Something that happens to enter their field of vision may become the first step of a chain reaction that results in a daydream about a related topic. You understand that, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°I, I suppose¡­?¡±


    ¡°Now, Kujou. Why would you, in the midst of hurrying to carry out the task that the housemother bestowed upon you, enter this unseemly state of lust, and start imagining such a puerile fantasy?¡±


    Kazuya¡¯s face turned bright red. ¡°You ¡­ you don¡¯t have to call it ¡®lust¡¯!¡±


    Victorique removed the pipe from her mouth. A thin plume of white smoke wound its way to the ceiling.


    Then she put the last fragment into words. ¡°Kujou. When you were walking on that deserted road, you spotted a girl in the corner of your eye. Most likely a cute blond one. You identified the killer without even knowing it, and wove her into your fantasy.¡±

 Volume 1 - CH 1.5

    [5]


    {Motorbike Beheading Case, Solved!


    Acclaimed Inspector de Blois Awarded Police Commendation!}


    *****


    The next morning arrived.


    Just as usual, Kazuya awoke earlier than the other students in the dormitory. He walked down to the dining room, greeted the housemother, and started on his breakfast. She had slipped the choicest slice of ham onto his plate, perhaps as a gesture of apology. Then she returned to reading the newspaper, seated in her usual position on a stool with her legs crossed and a cigarette dangling out of her mouth.


    Kazuya glanced in the housemother¡¯s direction. When his eyes happened to land on the headline on the front page, he jumped out of his seat in surprise. He asked to borrow the newspaper from her, then frantically skimmed the article.


    It said: ¡°By means of inspector de Blois¡¯ deductions, the culprit was apprehended at a surgical hospital¡ª-shockingly enough, it turned out to be a beautiful, blond-haired young girl?! Her motive remains unknown, but in return for solving the case with his usual amazing speed, the inspector was granted a special commendation from the police department¡­.¡±


    A photograph of the captured criminal¡ªa girl with downcast eyes¡ªaccompanied the article. Kazuya¡¯s gaze was immediately drawn to her hands, where a bandage was wrapped around her fingertips.


    This is just as Victorique said. But¡­


    Exactly what was the nature of Victorique¡¯s relationship with this inspector, who had snatched away the credit for cracking the case?


    Kazuya was filled with unanswered questions. And that girl, who solved mysteries with her startlingly sharp mind, was the biggest, strangest puzzle of all.


    *****


    The sun shone with dazzling light, the polar opposite of the weather on the previous day. Despite the many worries crowding his thoughts, Kazuya prepared for school as he normally did. He neatly donned the hat that was part of his school uniform, straightened his posture, and set off toward the classroom building. Once he entered the classroom, he walked directly to his seat, speaking to no one. It was the same way Kazuya had begun every school day for the past half year. But he had added one more habit to his routine without realizing it.


    His eyes slid to the empty seat by the window.


    And he thought of the enigmatic girl who should have been there, but never was.


    A slight smile flitted across his face.


    Now I know who¡¯s supposed to be sitting in that seat. That girl, that mysterious creature¡ªshe must be in that library right about now, attending her own kind of school in the middle of that garden, with her ¡°wellspring of wisdom¡± and her books spread all around her, enjoying her rendezvous with chaos. Victorique ¡­ you really are a strange one!


    Kazuya chuckled, amused at the thought.


    Maybe I¡¯ll take her some more unusual things to eat. At least she seemed to be pleased with the hina-arare. Oh, Victorique, your mouth was so full, you looked like a squirrel stuffing its cheeks full of nuts¡­.


    The bell rang.


    *****


    Until Miss C¨¦cile entered the classroom, the day had shown no signs of being anything other than an ordinary one.


    That is, until a tall girl walked in after her.


    She possessed a slim and athletic build. Her thick blond hair, cut short, curled around her face and accentuated her refined bone structure. Even someone looking at her from afar would have been taken with her radiant beauty.


    Miss C¨¦cile beamed. ¡°Allow me to introduce a new exchange student from England, Avril Bradley. Let¡¯s all give her a warm welcome!¡±


    The girl smiled, and inclined her head politely.


    Miss C¨¦cile quickly scanned the classroom. ¡°Let¡¯s see, where should we put you¡­. Well, the seat next to Kujou is empty.¡±


    Jolted from his wandering thoughts, Kazuya hastily nodded. His eyes met with Avril¡¯s, and she gave him a warm smile. He blushed, feeling a little shy.


    Avril walked to the seat beside Kazuya, moving with elegant, mincing steps as if she were walking on a cloud. She placed her satchel on her desk, but it fell to the floor just as she was about to sit down.


    Kazuya, conscientious to a fault, picked up Avril¡¯s fallen bag for her. She looked at him with slightly raised eyebrows.


    ¡°?a va?¡± asked Kazuya.


    ¡°?a va. Merci,¡± she answered, smiling as she took the bag from him. Her sunny expression, lacking any trace of darkness, shone as resplendently as a flower unfurling its petals.


    Hit by the sudden realization that this encounter was just like the one he had fantasied about, Kazuya stiffened in surprise. Avril turned toward the blackboard, the smile still on her face.


    However¡­


    *****


    Kazuya¡¯s eyes drifted away from her face to focus on her hand, which was placed on her desk. He was startled to see a bandage wrapped around the thumb and forefinger of her right hand. She was injured.


    It couldn¡¯t be¡­. Kazuya gulped.


    He remembered the husky voice of the mysterious girl in the library tower. The real killer is a blond girl. Her fingers are wounded¡­.


    Kazuya abruptly jumped to his feet, rattling his chair loudly. Miss C¨¦cile and the rest of the class turned around to look at the source of the sound. Flustered, he sat down again, and placed his head in his hands.


    A blond girl.


    Wounds on her fingers.


    This exchange student from England, Avril Bradley, fulfilled both conditions!


    It couldn¡¯t be! It has to be coincidence. I mean, they¡¯ve already caught the real killer. Those bandages must be from some other injury. It¡¯s just ¡­ a coincidence¡­


    A warm spring breeze wafted in from the window, rustling the long hair and skirts of the female students.


    Right, it¡¯s springtime¡­. Kazuya whispered to himself dazedly.


    ¡°The reaper who comes in spring brings death to the school¡±!


    *****


    The girl sensed Kazuya¡¯s stare, and turned around to look at him. Detecting the suspicion in his eyes, her previous carefree expression turned intimidating, as if she had suddenly turned into a completely different person. Within an instant, her eyes had narrowed into a glare.


    Is this girl really just an exchange student? I can¡¯t put my finger on it, but there¡¯s something about her¡­.


    Kazuya returned her gaze without wavering. Before long, she looked away.


    *****


    Kazuya Kujou, the third son of an imperial soldier, came to Sauvure from a certain country in the Orient, and met the mysterious girl Victorique, who was secluded among the tropical plants and esoteric books at the top floor of the library tower. The two of them would come to befriend each other, and uncover the various secrets of the school one by one.


    They would first embark on an adventure to solve the mysteries surrounding the enigmatic transfer student Avril Bradley, and a purple book of sinister witchcraft. But that is an entirely different story¡­.

 Volume 1 - CH 2.1

    [1]


    It was a bright springtime afternoon.


    St. Marguerite¡¯s Library was housed in a square tower that soared high into the sky. Inside, walls formed by huge bookshelves surrounded an atrium, which was permeated with a slightly damp atmosphere that could only be described as the scent of books.


    This library was one of the most famous structures on the campus of the distinguished St. Marguerite¡¯s School, nestled in a mountain range in the northern reaches of the Kingdom of Sauvure, a country known as the ¡°little giant¡± of Western Europe. The library¡¯s long labyrinthine staircase, said to have been deliberately constructed in the form of a maze to hide a king¡¯s secret trysts with his lover, seemed to stretch all the way to the heavens.


    Near the ceiling was an unusual conservatory lush with vegetation, lit up by rays of the sun that emanated from skylights. From here, a thin plume of smoke rose into the air, reproducing the scene that Kazuya had stumbled across the other day.


    It came from a white ceramic pipe, held by a girl small enough and beautiful enough to be mistaken for a porcelain doll. Her emerald green eyes were lost in a state of deep meditation, focusing intently on the undulating tendrils of smoke.


    Her magnificently long blond hair draped to the floor like an unwound velvet turban. A pink velvet lace-up ribbon emerged from her breakably thin back, drooping downward like the furled wings of a small bird. Upon the lap of her billowing dress, luxuriously embroidered in countless rows of white ladder lace, sat a heavy, opened book.


    Books radiated out in all directions on the floor next to her. Curiously enough, the spaces between them were dotted here and there in pink marshmallows.


    The girl suddenly stirred.


    She had heard the sound of someone entering the library, vigorously opening the leather-covered swing door hammered through with round brass tacks.


    The girl poked her head through the bars of the railing and looked down. She knitted her brows ever so slightly.


    It was impossible to tell whether her pale green eyes belonged to an innocent child or to an old woman who had lived for too long. She leaned her tiny body against the railing and looked downstairs as if something had caught her interest. But the expression on her small, marvelously proportioned face, remained stony, clouded in weariness, the face of a cold doll.


    The figure who had just entered the library, on the other hand¡­


    *****


    ¡°¡­I don¡¯t really want to see her. I wonder what I should do.¡±


    The figure stood in the library atrium, muttering under his breath in apprehension.


    Thanks to the stellar grades he had earned in his home country in the Orient, Kazuya Kujou, fifteen years of age, had recently arrived in Sauvure to study abroad. But because of a superstition circulating amongst his classmates that ¡°the traveler who comes in spring brings death to the school,¡± they had nicknamed him the Grim Reaper. For the past half year, his days had been full of hardships, and he was still unable to make any close friends.


    Then, just three days ago, he accidentally became embroiled in a murder case, and just so happened to meet this mysterious girl at the top of the library (in fact, she was his classmate, but she spent all her time in the library and had never once come to class). With the help of her intellectual powers¡ªwhich she referred to as her ¡°wellspring of wisdom¡±¡ªhe had just been rescued from a dangerous situation.


    ¡°Hmm¡­. There¡¯s definitely something I want to ask her about¡­. But I can¡¯t really figure that girl out, and she seems kind of scary¡­. She might actually hate me¡­. Achoo!¡± Kazuya sneezed.


    Although it was springtime, a cold wind still blew with the lingering scent of winter. As he sniffled, he saw something fall from the top of the library and flutter towards his head.


    It was a single sheet of white gossamer.


    Upon examination, it was a piece of tissue.


    Kazuya reached out to catch it, then blew his nose with it. For a moment he stared at the tissue, deep in thought. Then, realizing that the person he was planning to meet at the top must have dropped it for him, his eyes opened wide with surprise, then lit up in a joyful smile. Looking up at the top of the tower, he called out, ¡°Victorique! It¡¯s me, Kujou!¡±


    He began to enthusiastically climb the labyrinthine staircase.


    *****


    Several minutes later¡­


    Panting heavily, Kazuya gripped the railing with one hand, spent from climbing the never-ending stairs. He greeted the girl¡ªVictorique¡ªwho was smoking her pipe.


    ¡°Hi, Victorique. Thank you for the tissue.¡±


    ¡°¡­.¡±


    She said nothing in reply, instead keeping her head buried in the book she was reading.


    Kazuya sat down beside her. ¡°And, thanks for the other day.¡±


    ¡°¡­.¡±


    ¡°So, um, there¡¯s another thing that I kind of wanted to talk to you about.¡±


    ¡°¡­.¡±


    ¡°Victorique. Are you listening¡­?¡±


    Several moments passed with no response. Her doll-like profile conveyed nothing except an imperturbable coldness that rebuffed all interaction. Just as he was about to run out of patience, Victorique finally spoke coolly, without bothering to lift her head from her book.


    ¡°Don¡¯t get so close to me. It¡¯s a nuisance.¡±


    ¡°Wh-what do you mean?!¡± he replied indignantly.


    ¡°You¡¯re the Grim Reaper, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Kazuya had been growing steadily more infuriated with Victorique¡¯s brusque attitude, but her mention of the ¡°Grim Reaper¡± threw him off balance.


    ¡°So? What¡¯s your point?!¡±


    Up to that moment, Victorique¡¯s eyes had been fixed on her books. But at the sound of Kazuya¡¯s shout, they widened slightly in surprise. A fresh breeze seemed to breathe the slightest puff of life into her icy expression, piercing through her veil of boredom.


    ¡°There¡¯s another reaper. She¡¯s the one who¡¯s the real Grim Reaper!¡± exclaimed Kazuya.


    ¡°¡­¡¯She¡¯?¡±


    ¡°I mean Avril Bradley! That transfer student from England. She may look like a regular cute girl on the outside, but on the inside she¡¯s hiding some¡ªHmm? What¡¯s that for?¡±


    Still continuing to face away from him, Victorique held out one of her hands, which were as small as those of a child.


    Kazuya gazed at her palm curiously. ¡°¡­What?¡±


    She waved her hand at him a few times, saying nothing.


    ¡°Tch! I get it. You want those exotic snacks of yours, right?¡± Kazuya dipped his head in defeat.


    This girl, whose favorite phrase was ¡°tedium is my greatest enemy,¡± was unwilling to aid Kazuya unless he gave her unusual snacks with which to amuse her. And so, before coming to the library, he had returned to the dormitory to empty out the luggage he had brought from his home in search of some interesting dried sweets.


    While solemnly brooding over whether or not this could be considered bribery, he packed a small bag full of snacks to take with him.


    ¡°Here, Victorique. This is some candy that my big sister sent me. It¡¯s called kaminari-okoshi.¡±


    Victorique, who had been ignoring Kazuya all this time, suddenly raised her head, an expression of intense curiosity on her face. She set her book on the floor, shoved her hand inside the bag, and began to blissfully stuff her mouth full with candy, while grasping the bag greedily like a small animal guarding its food.


    ¡°Munch, munch¡­ What is this? Why is it so absurdly hard? Do you consider this some sort of delicacy?¡±


    ¡°Something like that. Anyway, Victorique¡­¡± Kazuya carefully monitored her face as she chewed.


    Victorique sighed. ¡°Very well. If there¡¯s something you want to say so badly, go ahead and tell me.¡±

 Volume 1 - CH 2.2

    [2]


    That morning, Kazuya exited the boys¡¯ dormitory at exactly his usual time and headed toward the classroom building, walking with perfectly straight posture.


    It was a sunny day. A sweet scent wafted from the riotously colorful flower beds that dotted the campus, which was built in the style of a French garden. Normally, Kazuya would have rushed straight to class, but this morning he couldn¡¯t help but slow his steps and admire the flowers and green-leafed trees.


    As Kazuya approached the front of the building, a feminine voice called out to him. ¡°Um, excuse me¡­. You must be the boy who sits next to me; Kujou, I think it was?¡±


    He turned around and saw a familiar figure standing there. It was his classmate, Avril Bradley, who had just arrived from England a few days ago. She was a beautiful, vivacious young girl with short blond hair and long, sturdy legs.


    ¡°Hey, let¡¯s go inside together!¡± Avril ran up alongside Kazuya, taking no heed of his shy body language. A jovial, unclouded smile beamed across her distinctly mature-looking face. ¡°So you¡¯re a foreign student too, Kujou?¡±


    Kazuya nodded, feeling slightly tense. ¡°Y-yeah¡­¡±


    Walking next to Kazuya, Avril looked very tall for a girl. She was as tall as he was, and bore a robust physique that seemed more suitable for an adult woman than a girl.


    Kazuya suddenly felt suspicious of whether this girl was really fifteen years old. But Avril was oblivious to his silence, and instead continued talking on cheerfully.


    ¡°You know, this school is pretty weird. It¡¯s been around for a long time, so the buildings, the gardens, and the dorm all look really old. The school I went to in England was newly built, so I find this a pretty refreshing change. Hey, did you know that the students here have a bunch of ghost stories about this place?¡±


    ¡°¡­Are you referring to the ¡®reaper who comes in spring¡¯?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that? No, the one I heard was called, ¡®don¡¯t step on the thirteenth stair¡¯. They said that there¡¯s a teacher who hanged herself on the thirteenth step, and she tries to drag people into hell. Ha, ha, ha!¡± Avril¡¯s lovely face dissolved into laughter. ¡°Why would a spirit still be hanging around the world of the living? That¡¯s so stupid; who could possibly believe that?¡±


    Apparently, this girl was not the sort who believed in ghost stories or superstitions.


    ¡°But it¡¯s still kind of fun, you know? I get excited. This is where Avril starts her adventure, ¡¯cause my grandpa was an adventurer, too. Have you ever heard of Sir Bradley? He traveled across Africa in a jeep, and crossed the Atlantic in a hot-air balloon.¡±


    The name sounded somehow familiar to Kazuya. Perhaps he had read it in a newspaper article before.


    ¡°Although, he did end up disappearing somewhere with that balloon¡­.¡±


    Right, that was the article.


    ¡°My dream is to become an incredible adventurer just like my grandpa. Right now, what I want is a license to fly a plane, plus a motorbike, although I could use some new dresses, too¡­.¡±


    The image of Avril floating away in a hot-air balloon, screaming, rose unbidden in Kazuya¡¯s mind.


    Then, in a flash, her expression turned serious. Now she seemed like a completely different person from the cute, bubbly schoolgirl she was before. An ominous cloud passed over her features as she lowered her voice. ¡°Actually¡­ I came to this school to look for something. Something very important to me.¡±


    ¡°What would that be?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s ¡­ a secret!¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­?¡±


    As he chatted with Avril, Kazuya took a careful look at her hand.


    The fingers on her right hand were wrapped in a white bandage.


    A murder case had occurred nearby only a few days before. Kazuya had been mistaken for the culprit, but thanks to Victorique, the tiny genius detective, the case had been solved and the real killer arrested ¡­ or so he thought.


    But there was one issue that refused to leave Kazuya¡¯s mind¡ªnamely, a certain characteristic of the killer. According to Victorique, the culprit was a pretty blond-haired girl with injured fingers. Sure enough, a girl matching that description was later apprehended, and she confessed to her crime.


    But Avril, who had enrolled in school immediately afterward, also happened to be a pretty blond-haired girl with injured fingers¡­.


    Was this truly just coincidence? Or could the real killer still be on the loose?


    ¡°¡­Avril, what happened to your hand?¡± Kazuya asked, his gaze still on her fingers.


    Avril¡¯s smile vanished. ¡°¡­Nothing happened.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Is that right?¡±


    Avril was silent.


    Kazuya surveyed her stony demeanor, his suspicions mounting. She was definitely hiding something behind her menacing expression, which was completely different from the one she had previously worn as a lively, innocent girl.


    There¡¯s something strange about her¡­.


    The next moment, they saw Miss C¨¦cile rush out of the building. She caught sight of the two of them, and waved.


    Miss C¨¦cile was Victorique¡¯s teacher in addition to being their own teacher. She was a petite young woman with shoulder-length brown hair, her sweet, slightly babyish face hidden behind large, round glasses.


    ¡°Just in time. Can you two help me with something after class?¡± she said cheerily.


    Avril smiled and nodded, then went on to tell the teacher how much she was enjoying the school. Kazuya kept a careful eye on her expression, wondering if what he saw was just his imagination. He was beginning to feel embarrassed with himself for thinking too much about such morbid things.


    Miss C¨¦cile said that she wanted the two of them to attend a funeral service with her. An elderly man who had worked for many years as a caretaker for the school had died of an illness, and a simple funeral would be held for him after class in the cemetery of the small chapel on campus.


    *****


    Consequently, after class ended, Kazuya and Avril accompanied Miss C¨¦cile to the cemetery, which was opposite the school library.


    St. Marguerite¡¯s School was a majestically built institution occupying a large plot of land at the base of a mountain range. Sprawling across gently sloping terrain, the campus was cut off from the outside world by a tall hedge encircling the premises like the wall of a fort. With the help of the gardeners, the shapes of animals and castles were lovingly pruned into the sides of the hedge to mark each season.


    And in the center of the grounds, a large, stately building in the shape of the letter U towered over the rest of the campus, which was laid out in imitation of a French-style garden. The student dormitories, cafeterias, school library, and the chapel jutted out from the landscape. Flower gardens, lawns, ponds, and water fountains dotted the expansive campus, the spaces between them forming a beautiful and spacious park-like path.


    Kazuya was familiar with the chapel, but it seemed to be Avril¡¯s first time encountering it. She exclaimed in delight at the sight of the old chapel, built in imposing Gothic style, and the dilapidated mausoleum, as if she had seen something extraordinary. ¡°How marvelous!¡±


    But Kazuya didn¡¯t think so. As far as he was concerned, the chapel only exuded a gloomy atmosphere that made him want to avoid going anywhere near it.


    The mausoleum in question was erected squarely in the middle of the cemetery. Under a huge cross stood an iron door, and beyond it lay a vast, dark chamber built in the manner of a maze, where numerous corpses rested upon slabs.


    Avril said that the setting reminded her of the location of the final scene in ¡°Romeo and Juliet,¡± where the two lovers had poisoned themselves and died. It was an apt comparison.


    Miss C¨¦cile commented, ¡°It¡¯s been a long time since anyone¡¯s come here, ever since a student died eight years ago. That was the last time it was opened. Fortunately, in the meantime we haven¡¯t had any more deaths of anyone connected to the school.¡±


    She handed a key to the burly men who had come from the undertaker¡¯s, and they attempted to open the iron door to the mausoleum. But the key was rusted and refused to fit into the lock.


    A strong breeze blew through the cemetery, rustling Avril¡¯s and Miss C¨¦cile¡¯s hair.


    Finally, the key turned, but this time the door itself was too stiff and wouldn¡¯t budge. One of the undertakers looked over his shoulder and beckoned for Kazuya¡¯s assistance. Kazuya joined them in their struggle to pull open the door.


    The door gave a loud creak, and at last began to move. The smell of rusted iron assailed their noses.


    And the moment the door opened, an object directly facing Kazuya slowly tipped forward¡­.


    It was a corpse.

 Volume 1 - CH 2.3

    [3]


    *****


    ¡°¡­Well, you are the Grim Reaper.¡± Victorique sourly interrupted Kazuya¡¯s story.


    ¡°Don¡¯t call me that!¡±


    ¡°This candy is too hard¡­. I don¡¯t want it!¡± She flung away the piece of kaminari-okoshi.


    Kazuya picked it up and reluctantly took a nibble from it, then sighed. ¡°¡­Listen to me. As I was saying.¡±


    What had fallen on top of Kazuya was the waxen body of a dead man. His eye sockets had caved in and the flesh of his cheeks had dried up, the agony of his death forever preserved on his face.


    The man wore a peculiar outfit. He was dressed in the full garb of a medieval knight, his breast adorned with a primrose corsage.


    As the corpse tumbled down upon Kazuya, the bones of its skull, torso, and wrists detached and fell to the floor with a rattling sound. The dried primroses crumbled into dust and scattered into the wind.


    Miss C¨¦cile swooned.


    The undertakers shouted in alarm.


    And then¡­


    ¡°¡­Avril did something strange,¡± whispered Kazuya. ¡°I think I¡¯m the only one who saw it, though¡­.¡±


    *****


    Avril didn¡¯t utter a single sound. Kazuya turned to Miss C¨¦cile, but in that second, he caught a glimpse of fluid movement, as if a wild animal had darted across his peripheral vision. Startled, he followed Avril with his eyes, and saw her jump over the dismembered corpse. She landed gracefully in the center of the burial vault, then leaned over to pick something up from the floor.


    *****


    ¡°¡­She picked something up?¡±


    Kazuya nodded. ¡°It was a book. A thin book with a purple cover.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°And she quickly hid it in her bag. Then I heard her muttering, ¡®What¡¯s this doing here?¡¯¡±


    ¡°¡­How odd.¡±


    ¡°I thought so, too. Maybe that book¡¯s the thing she said she was looking for. But why would it be there? And I wonder what kind of book it was?¡±


    Victorique opened her mouth in a wide yawn. ¡°Fascinating¡­¡±


    ¡°L-let¡¯s be serious now. Isn¡¯t that definitely strange behavior? And then you said that the killer from that murder case a few days ago would be a pretty blond girl with wounded fingers. It could just be a coincidence, but Avril fits that description, too¡­.¡±


    ¡°You realize the killer in that case was already arrested,¡± said Victorique wearily.


    ¡°I know¡­. But I¡¯ve been wondering. What if the ¡®reaper who comes in spring¡¯ is actually Avril¡­.¡±


    Victorique ignored his murmur. She took the bag of kaminari-okoshi away from him and started gnawing at the candy again, apparently finding it to her tastes despite her complaints. ¡°In any case, the fact that the body fell just as the door was being opened indicates that he was alive when the door was locked. This means that someone locked him alive inside a dark crypt, and he died on his feet, having used the last of his strength to call for help.¡±


    Kazuya gulped, thinking that what she said made a lot of sense. ¡°You¡¯re right¡­. Since he was wearing historical-looking clothing, I had thought that he must have died long ago. But would this mean he was locked inside the crypt when it was last opened eight years ago¡­?¡±


    In that case, it wouldn¡¯t be very long ago at all. Kazuya fell silent for a few moments, remembering the corpse¡¯s face, frozen in an agonized scream.


    ¡°¡­Then, the murder must have occurred there eight years ago. But what could that possibly have to do with that purple book left behind at the scene of the crime, and that English girl who took it without telling anyone¡ª¡±


    He was interrupted by the sound of a loud rattle.


    *****


    A discordant groan erupted from the direction of the hydraulic elevator. The vibrations from its ascent shook the branches on the trees in the conservatory.


    The iron cage screeched, then halted. The metal latticed doors creaked open.


    Leaning on the door with his arms folded, a fashionably dressed man stood inside, striking a pose.


    He sported a three-piece suit with a flamboyant ascot tie at his neck and silver cufflinks at his wrists. And on his head, ruining the effect of his impeccable wardrobe, was that inscrutable hairstyle, swept forward and hardened into a point.


    It was the inspector Gr¨¦ville de Blois. Only a few days ago, he had attempted to arrest Kazuya as the suspect of a murder investigation. As far as Kazuya knew, he was a thoroughly odious man who had joined the police force on a whim, abusing his privilege as a nobleman.


    Victorique needed only to glance at him for a second before swiftly averting her eyes. She thrust her face back into her books, and began to emphatically smoke her pipe.


    Likewise, Inspector de Blois gave her no more than a brief look, and made no attempt to verbally acknowledge her. Instead, he unexpectedly turned to Kazuya and greeted him amiably, ¡°Why, if it isn¡¯t Kujou!¡±


    ¡°¡­Is there something you want?¡± said Kazuya, recoiling a step. The smile on the inspector¡¯s face made him shudder.


    ¡°Thanks to my brilliant mind, you were able to escape the dishonor of being labeled a convicted murderer.¡±


    ¡°¡­Quite the opposite, in fact.¡±


    ¡°If you feel like repaying the favor, please don¡¯t hesitate. But no, what I came to talk about is actually the case of the mummified knight from this morning¡­.¡±


    Apparently, the inspector had come to the school immediately after having been assigned to oversee the investigation. Kazuya furtively peeked over the side of the maze of stairs, and saw that the two deputies who had accompanied the inspector the other day were standing near the entrance to the library. They were holding hands once again, their heads cocked to the side as they looked up at him with uneasy expressions.


    Kazuya remembered the time several days ago when the inspector had last come to the library. At first he assumed Kazuya to be the culprit and insisted on arresting him, but once he heard the truth that Victorique had pieced together from her ¡°wellspring of wisdom¡±, he left to immediately apprehend the real killer. And now he had taken the credit for himself.


    For some reason, he was acclaimed as a great detective, but by all appearances, he didn¡¯t seem to be remotely deserving of the epithet. Could it be that this was in fact the way he solved all of his cases?


    But although this mysterious inspector and Victorique seemed to already be acquainted, they clearly couldn¡¯t stand each other. Reenacting their behavior from several days ago, they refused to even look at one another, much less exchange any words. The situation deeply baffled Kazuya, who was stuck in the middle.


    He carefully observed Victorique for her reaction. Her expression seemed to be frostier than ever.


    She removed the pipe from her mouth. ¡°Why don¡¯t you listen to what he has to say, Kujou. I¡¯ll just be here reading my books. It doesn¡¯t mean that I have be the one to listen to him.¡±


    Inspector de Blois twitched.


    ¡°¡­Well, if I do happen to overhear anything, Kujou, perhaps I¡¯ll give you my personal opinion. We can leave Gr¨¦ville out of it.¡±


    ¡°Um, okay¡­ Well¡­¡±


    Kazuya looked at her, then at the inspector. They were both facing away from each other.


    What on earth is going on here¡­?! he thought to himself, bewildered.


    Ignoring Kazuya¡¯s state of confusion, Inspector de Blois said, ¡°In that case, Kujou, you and I just happen to be here having a chat. I¡¯ll begin, then.¡±


    ¡°Right¡­¡±


    Keeping his gaze firmly directed toward Kazuya, the inspector began to speak. But when Kazuya glanced at Victorique, he could tell from looking at her small, dainty ears that she too was secretly paying attention, even while her face was glued to her books¡­.


    *****


    ¡°We have determined that that corpse that fell out of the mausoleum appears to belong to an enigmatic man by the name of Maxim. After graduating from this school, he developed the habit of materializing out of nowhere every spring, coming back here to stay for a time, then taking off again. Since this man was rumored to engage in fraud, extortion, burglary, and various other crimes, he had made a lot of enemies in various places, and was presumably murdered by one of them. The reports of his physical appearance and last known location match up perfectly with this corpse. Apparently, he was quite the handsome fellow. Well, anyhow, it seems that eight years ago in the springtime, he came back to the school for a few weeks, but suddenly vanished without a trace, with his personal belongings still left behind in his room.¡±


    The inspector paused, then sighed.


    ¡°But there are still questions left unanswered. Who killed him? Why was he killed in such a place? The mausoleum was last opened eight years ago. That teacher, C¨¦cile or whatever her name was, said that a female student who died after a long illness was laid to rest there, and that the door hadn¡¯t been opened since. Although apparently the key was stolen shortly before her funeral. Afterwards, the lock was changed, and the new key was placed under strict safekeeping. But even supposing anyone wanted to sneak into the crypt, it isn¡¯t as if they would find anything valuable there. After all, there¡¯s nothing but dead bodies inside¡­.¡±


    The inspector smiled to himself. Then his face turned serious.


    ¡°In fact, the key seems to have rusted through. By the way, I found out the undertakers who worked on the funeral eight years ago are the same ones working this time, so I had a chat with them. They said that, obviously, they hadn¡¯t seen Maxim at the last funeral, whether inside or outside of the crypt. The undertakers entered the crypt themselves, so I take their word for it. After they inspected the area, they interred the girl¡¯s body, then left and locked the door. In the past eight years, no one has opened that door. Now, that being said, how the devil could Maxim have gotten inside? And for what purpose?¡±


    His face twisted in disgust, and then he continued, ¡°Why would Maxim be wearing the costume of a medieval knight at the time of his death eight years ago? What¡¯s the meaning of the primrose corsage pinned to his chest?¡±


    He paused, then lowered his voice. ¡°The biggest issue is, if Maxim didn¡¯t willingly enter the crypt, then of course that would make this a murder case. Because that would mean someone shut him inside while he was still alive. A murder that occurred eight years ago¡ªand I have no doubt the killer is still somewhere in this school, living a carefree existence under all of our noses. This is an unpardonable crime, my boy!¡±


    As Inspector de Blois finished speaking, he glowered at nothing in particular. The rays of the sun shining in from the skylights glistened upon his pointed hair, highlighting it in shimmering gold.


    ¡°¡­Hmm.¡± Victorique looked up from her books.


    Kazuya raised his eyebrows. He saw a faint blush appear on Victorique¡¯s face. A small spark of energy seemed to replace the boredom and weariness that had previously filled her expression. Perhaps she was starting to feel interested.


    ¡°What are you thinking?¡± he asked her.


    ¡°This is some considerable chaos. Although, it isn¡¯t such a complicated matter after all.¡± Victorique reached out to take some candy. She lifted it to her mouth with her two small hands, then spoke while chewing. ¡°Munch, munch¡­ The truth is actually very simple. Munch, munch. In order to relieve my boredom, this ¡®wellspring of wisdom¡¯ of mine has attempted to amuse itself by reconstructing these fragments of chaos. It¡¯s an extremely straightforward thing.¡±


    Victorique yawned sleepily. Then, noticing Kazuya and Inspector de Blois waiting impatiently for her next words, she added irritably, ¡°Still, there is one fragment left. Naturally, this is the result of your carelessness, Gr¨¦ville.¡±


    ¡°What!?¡±


    ¡°If you want to know the truth, assemble the fragments and bring them to me.¡± She turned away from them. ¡°The two of you shall go to the undertakers and ask them this question. Pay attention to what I am about to say. Ask them, ¡®Is there a corpse missing from the crypt?¡¯¡±


    Kazuya and the inspector exchanged looks.

 Volume 1 - CH 2.4

    [4]


    ¡°¡­For God¡¯s sake, why does she always have to take on that arrogant tone. This is why I hate grey wolves,¡± grumbled Inspector de Blois as he walked toward the village.


    ¡°¡­¡¯Grey wolves¡¯?¡± asked Kazuya.


    The inspector said nothing. The expression on his face was not only full of anger, but was also tense, as if he were fearful of something. He continued muttering to himself, ¡°How can she do this to me when I¡¯m busy enough with other cases¡­¡±


    It appeared that the police department had received some cryptic information regarding a famous thief who was about to strike the village, and was scrambling to put together a response.


    But that had to be set aside for now. The inspector and his two deputies¡ªand Kazuya, who for some reason was forced to tag along with them¡ªwent to the outskirts of town to interview the undertakers. After questioning them according to Victorique¡¯s orders, they rushed back to examine the crypt.


    ¡°There¡¯s definitely one body missing.¡± The younger undertaker pointed inside. ¡°They were interred in chronological order, but there¡¯s one empty slab in the inner chamber.¡±


    The older undertaker reacted in surprise. ¡°That can¡¯t be. They should all be in their proper places. I made sure of it when I last came in here eight years ago.¡±


    Pushing aside the younger man, he barged into the crypt. Then he raised his voice in a startled shout. ¡°You¡¯re right! There¡¯s one missing!? That¡¯s odd¡­. How did this happen?¡±


    The undertakers and the inspector gave each other a look.


    *****


    On their way back to the school, Kazuya heard the inspector mumbling to himself, ¡°A missing body¡­ a primrose corsage¡­¡± On occasion, he groaned aloud, ¡°That damned grey wolf!¡±


    With each exclamation he heard, Kazuya would cock his head to the side in perplexity, wondering what was on the inspector¡¯s mind this time.


    After returning to campus, they walked along the white pebbled road that led to the library. Then Kazuya saw the library¡¯s leather-covered swing door open, and the familiar figure of a girl jump outside¡ªit was Avril Bradley.


    Kazuya let slip a sound of surprise, which caught the attention of the inspector. ¡°What is it, Kujou?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­¡± Kazuya remembered the trouble he had gone through several days ago after the inspector had mistaken him for being the perpetrator of a murder case. He felt reluctant to mention Avril to him when all he had to go on was his gut feeling. ¡°No, it¡¯s nothing¡­.¡±


    The clouded, menacing expression on Avril¡¯s face as she walked away gave Kazuya the same funny feeling in the pit of his stomach as before. Her face looked nothing like that of an innocent young girl. But if her cheerful side was nothing more than an act, then who was the real Avril?


    He entered the library, his thoughts in turmoil. I wonder what Avril was doing in here? he thought, surveying his surroundings. He saw nothing amiss. The library looked the same way it always did.


    Am I just over-thinking all of this¡­?


    Inspector de Blois walked into the elevator and departed for the top floor.


    Several minutes later¡­


    By the time Kazuya, gasping for breath, had finished climbing the labyrinthine staircase to the garden where Victorique would be, he found her waiting silently together with the inspector.


    A breeze from the skylights rustled the leaves of the trees.


    ¡°¡­So, Kujou.¡± The inspector was the first one to break the stillness. ¡°It seems that one body was missing.¡±


    ¡°¡­I already know that. I was there with you at the time.¡±


    ¡°Then who is the killer?¡±


    ¡°Like I said, inspector¡­. Ask Victorique, not me¡­.¡±


    ¡°You promised that if we gathered the last fragment, you would tell me the name of the killer.¡±


    ¡°Inspector!¡±


    Without bothering to raise her head from her book, Victorique asked, ¡°What is the name of the student who died eight years ago?¡±


    The inspector¡¯s shoulders twitched. ¡°Millie Marle. What does that have to do with it?¡±


    Now she lifted her head swiftly. ¡°That is the name of your killer,¡± she said, her pipe still in her mouth.


    *****


    An abrupt silence pervaded the garden. Kazuya and the inspector stared at Victorique, their mouths opened in shock.


    ¡°¡­Huh?¡±


    ¡°Millie Marle is the killer.¡±


    ¡°How can that be, Kujou? Millie was already dead at the time of her funeral!¡±


    ¡°As I keep telling you, inspector, I¡¯m not the one who¡­¡± Kazuya turned to Victorique. ¡°Can you explain? Surely you don¡¯t mean she faked her death?¡±


    ¡°No, she probably was dead. In other words, this would be a killing committed by the dead.¡±


    A thin strand of white smoke rose up in a straight line from Victorique¡¯s pipe. She removed the book from her lap, and gave the two men a hard look. Her eyes were curiously bright. For once, she didn¡¯t seem cold or blas¨¦.


    A thought suddenly occurred to Kazuya: She¡¯s not a bad girl at all. It¡¯s just that she¡¯s a very unusual sort of person¡­.


    Victorique began to speak. ¡°I can only imagine the chain of events that led to it, but while she was on her deathbed, Millie Marle chose Maxim to be her companion in death¡¯s journey. After all, the knight is duty-bound to protect his lady.¡±


    ¡°So is that the meaning behind that costume?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not all. Now, here we have three fragments of chaos. One is the costume of a medieval knight. The second is the stolen key. And the last one is the missing corpse from the previous burials. It¡¯s possible to reconstruct these fragments as follows. Millie Marle used a sedative to put Maxim to sleep, and dressed him in the coat of armor. Then she used the stolen key to enter the crypt, and substituted the body of the unconscious Maxim, disguised as a knight, into the place of a very old corpse wearing a suit of armor. After this, she died. When Millie Marle¡¯s body was placed inside the crypt, Maxim was still sleeping inside. It¡¯s a pity he didn¡¯t realize that he was meant to accompany her in eternal rest. The undertakers were no better. Inside the dark crypt, they didn¡¯t notice that one of the corpses they had long been used to seeing had been exchanged with a fresh body. Thus the deceased Millie Marle was laid to rest, and the door was tightly shut. Once Maxim awoke, it was pitch dark, and he was surrounded by dead bodies. Perhaps he discovered the dead girl and realized what had happened. Or perhaps, in that darkness, he was unable to discern the truth¡­. Regardless of his reaction, the door had already been sealed.¡±


    Victorique fell silent.


    Kazuya had gone pale in horror. He glanced at Inspector de Blois next to him, and saw him looking at his feet, his face also drained of color. ¡°How ghastly!¡± he whispered.


    Meanwhile, Victorique gazed into empty space with eyes like moist glass beads, as if she saw all human concerns, be they good or evil, terrifying or delightsome, as objects on a distant shore.


    This girl is definitely an unusual sort of person, thought Kazuya again.


    Victorique parted her lips. ¡°Of course, I have no proof. Moreover, this is something that happened eight years ago. But it makes sense this way.¡±


    A heavy silence enshrouded the conservatory.


    Then Kazuya heard a rustling sound.


    He looked up, and saw Inspector de Blois scramble to his feet. Turning away from them, he rushed inside the iron cage of the elevator.


    Neither Victorique nor Kazuya bothered to bid him goodbye. Instead, Kazuya shouted after him angrily, ¡°Inspector, please show your gratitude to Victorique. She did solve the case for you.¡±


    The inspector looked over his shoulder, and shrugged. ¡°What are you talking about, Kujou? I merely came to ask for your account as an eyewitness. Farewell!¡±


    The iron grill clanged shut.


    ¡°How dare you¡­!¡±


    Victorique took no notice of Kazuya¡¯s rage. She looked up and called out, ¡°Gr¨¦ville,¡± her voice weary.


    The inspector turned around, his face strained with irritation. The expression in his eyes betrayed the slightest hint of anxiety. ¡°What?¡± he asked, a quaver in his voice.


    A shift in atmosphere enveloped them once again. The inspector, looking much like a frightened child, watched the small girl warily. She returned his gaze calmly.


    And then there was that almost palpable ringing sound, when adult and child switched places in that strange instant¡­.


    ¡°Investigate the relationship between those two¡ªbetween Millie Marle and Maxim. It seems that Maxim was quite the lady killer. However, the motive for her crime is hidden in that bouquet of primroses.¡±


    Kazuya recalled the primroses that adorned the corpse¡¯s chest. When the body fell to pieces on the floor, the flowers disintegrated and were swept away by the wind.


    ¡°In the language of flowers, primroses mean ¡®together forever.¡¯ So long, Gr¨¦ville.¡±


    Inspector de Blois¡¯ dumbfounded face was slowly engulfed by the floor as the elevator descended. The second before he disappeared from view, Kazuya thought he saw his face crumple in unmistakable chagrin¡­.

 Volume 1 - CH 2.5

    [5]


    With Inspector de Blois¡¯ departure, the lush garden at the top floor of St. Marguerite¡¯s Library once again returned to its original stillness.


    Victorique yawned widely, then put her book back on her lap and began to read intently once again. With immense speed, she skimmed through the pages of the thick book written in impenetrable Latin.


    Kazuya watched her in the corner of his eye, then finally gathered up the courage to interrupt her reading. ¡°Say, Victorique.¡±


    ¡°Hmm?! Kujou, you¡¯re still here?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I¡¯ve been here the whole time, Victorique,¡± he said. ¡°I can see that you have Maxim¡¯s murder eight years ago all worked out. But there¡¯s one thing you haven¡¯t mentioned.¡±


    ¡°Now what?! You really are a pushy fellow!¡± exclaimed Victorique peevishly.


    Taken aback by her outburst, Kazuya stuttered, ¡°Wh-what are you getting so angry for? This is what I originally came to ask you about. Don¡¯t tell me you forgot?¡±


    ¡°Hmph. I couldn¡¯t possibly forget. It¡¯s just that you keep getting more and more annoying.¡±


    ¡°If that¡¯s the way it is, then give me back my kaminari-okoshi!¡±


    ¡°Mmm?¡±


    They glared at each other.


    Intense sunlight pierced through the skylights and shone brightly upon their faces.


    ¡°¡­My goodness, Kujou. You truly are a loudmouthed fellow.¡±


    ¡°And you, Victorique, are spiteful, capricious, and cruel.¡±


    ¡°This place is supposed to be a tranquil paradise filled with books, where one can indulge in knowledge and ennui without any intrusion. And here you are making a mess of things every time you climb up those stairs, shouting, making an absurd fuss over nothing. These past few days have been very bothersome for me.¡±


    ¡°B-but it¡¯s just that ¡­ you¡¯ve been a great help to me¡­.¡± Kazuya¡¯s voice trembled slightly.


    Victorique merely snorted and turned away from him.


    ¡°And I even brought you candy, hoping you would enjoy it¡­¡± He was growing more dejected with every word.


    Victorique took a quick glance at his face, and was silent for a moment. Then she said, ¡°¡­Be that as it may, I haven¡¯t been bored at all.¡±


    Kazuya¡¯s face brightened in a flash.


    ¡°Even so, though my greatest enemy may be tedium, my second greatest enemy is commotion.¡±


    ¡°I beg your pardon?¡±


    ¡°That would make you my second greatest enemy come to chase away my greatest enemy¡­. Enough, go home. I¡¯m tired of this racket.¡±


    ¡°Wait, Victorique! Honestly!¡± snapped Kazuya, swelling with indignation.


    At last Victorique grudgingly closed her book, a defeated expression on her face. ¡°For God¡¯s sake, what do you want from me?!¡±


    ¡°I said, there was something I wanted you to explain to me. About that purple book that Avril picked up in the crypt.¡± As he spoke, Kazuya relived the scene in his mind. The image of the sinister expression on Avril¡¯s face vividly overlapped the split-second glimpse he caught of that haunting deep purple book.


    That sinister purple book¡­


    That book, resting among the bodies in the crypt¡­


    ¡°Was that book what Avril came here to look for? Why would it be at the scene of a murder that happened eight years ago, let alone on the floor of a crypt that no one should have entered? Is she really just an innocent bystander? What sort of book was that anyway?¡±


    ¡°¡­Is that all?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Basically, it¡¯s that book. That book was the issue all along. That book, that book, that book! And then Avril, too!¡±


    With a note of true exasperation, Victorique replied, ¡°If I solve this mystery, will you, my second greatest enemy, leave me be?¡±


    Kazuya couldn¡¯t help but feel glum when confronted with Victorique¡¯s crystal clear irritation.Do you really hate me that much¡­? he wondered deep down. He nodded reluctantly, then said, ¡°That reminds me¡­. Avril came to the library earlier. I wonder if she was looking for me?¡±


    ¡°What makes you think that?¡±


    ¡°Well, since I kind of ¡­ witnessed her take that book, maybe she realized that I saw her. So¡­¡±


    ¡°Still, Kujou, if you really suspect her that much, wouldn¡¯t you tell Gr¨¦ville about it? But you haven¡¯t done that.¡±


    Kazuya guardedly shook his head. ¡°I know¡­. It feels like Avril is suspicious, and at the same time also not. I didn¡¯t want to deliver her into the inspector¡¯s clutches when I don¡¯t really know what¡¯s going on¡­.¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­?¡± Victorique snorted, and gave Kazuya a condescending look.


    ¡°Wh-why are you looking at me like that?¡±


    ¡°In other words, what you mean is that you stayed silent out of a sense of compassion.¡±


    ¡°W-well, you could put it that way.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s my personal opinion that concepts like compassion are where intelligence goes to die. And you, Kujou, are the perfect embodiment of that.¡±


    ¡°¡­What¡¯s that supposed to mean?! I¡¯ve never been insulted like that in my life!¡± Kazuya again burst into a rage, his face turning pink.


    Victorique began to say something, but cut herself off before she uttered a word.


    Then she suddenly pushed herself against the railing, and stood up straight.


    Kazuya, still feeling angry, stood up with her.


    Victorique appeared to be of indeterminate age¡ªshe was surely older than her youthful face suggested, and yet her eyes were as sorrowful as those of an old person reaching the end of a life lived for too long. Once she stood up, Kazuya was shocked by the sight of her small head far below him. Even in comparison to a boy of short stature as he was, her head still came no further than his chest or abdomen.


    In that moment, he realized that this was the first time he had seen Victorique on her feet.


    Her body was much smaller than what he had imagined while she was still sitting. She looked more like an exquisitely crafted doll made of fine porcelain. Kazuya felt his astonishment absorb the anger smoldering in his chest, dissipating it with a gentle hiss. What was left was only his surprise as he carefully observed Victorique¡¯s strikingly small form.


    Then his gaze fell upon the mountain of tremendously abstruse books she had scattered across the floor.


    She had skimmed through these with incredible speed while speaking of her ¡°wellspring of wisdom¡± in that husky voice, like that of an old woman, as she effortlessly solved outlandish cases. And yet that mind was contained in such a small body, as if belonging to some sublimely made doll¡­


    Kazuya found this to be an entirely marvelous thing.


    Just who exactly was this girl¡­?


    He was suddenly reminded of the attitude the inspector took toward her, cringing in terror and refusing to even look at her, despite the fact that he relied on her intelligence to assist him.


    And Kazuya also remembered those mysterious words of his¡­


    Damned grey wolf¡­!


    What was the meaning of those words, and why did his voice tremble so?


    Who was Victorique really?


    Kazuya thought of the strange cases that had occurred in the village and on campus in just a few days¡¯ time. These were certainly baffling mysteries. And yet¡­


    He came to the sudden realization that Victorique herself was a greater mystery than any other.


    Kazuya continued to carefully observe her, this enigmatic girl, her small body engulfed in lace and ribbons.


    However, Victorique herself showed no indication of perceiving Kazuya¡¯s inner turmoil. Her tiny form stirred, and began to quickly descend the labyrinthine staircase. The large pink velvet ribbon pinned to the back of her dress flapped like the wings of a small bird about to fly, fluttering dreamily in time with her steps. The white ladder lace adorning her hemline quivered invitingly as she disappeared from sight.


    Kazuya hurriedly chased after Victorique, who was swiftly flying away, like a bird emblazoned in white and pink, in ribbons and in lace. ¡°Where are you going?¡±


    Her voice rang out from a distance, its huskiness a sharp contrast to her appearance. ¡°I am providing balm for your aching soul. That book, that book, that book! And that suspicious transfer student! For now, I shall find that book of yours. You could thank me at the very least!¡±


    ¡°I meant, why are you going downstairs? And how would you know where the book is? You¡¯ve just been sitting up at the top of the library smoking your pipe all this time, and you haven¡¯t seen anything at all¡­ Hey, be careful! You wouldn¡¯t want to slip and fall¡­.¡±


    Kazuya looked over the side of the staircase, and blanched. The bottom floor was so far below that he might as well have been peering into hell. The narrow stairs twisted further in and deeper down like a maze in a nightmare. If someone were to carelessly lose his footing, it would be his first and last time.


    Oblivious to Kazuya¡¯s concern, Victorique continued down the stairs, her feet almost floating in an unusual gait. As she descended, she addressed Kazuya in a sing-song voice. ¡°That suspicious transfer student came because she had something to do inside the library. And it wasn¡¯t to look for you.¡±


    ¡°¡­What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Look around you. It should be obvious. What is inside a library? What does someone come to do in a library?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s inside a library? Books, of course? And someone comes to a library ¡­ to read them?¡±


    And maybe also to see you¡­ added Kazuya silently.


    At last they had both reached the foot of the staircase. Standing in the atrium at the very bottom, they lifted their eyes to survey the interior of the four-sided building.


    Each wall was completely covered in books. Apart from the marble floor and the fresco on the ceiling, every other surface was composed entirely of books, forming a sanctuary of books as far as the eye could see. An aura of dust, the past, and of knowledge glittered as it wafted through the air.


    Victorique murmured, ¡°That girl came to hide a tree in the forest.¡±


    Realization dawning on him, Kazuya blurted out, ¡°Oh!¡±


    Victorique smugly nodded as if agreeing with herself. ¡°Right. When she picked the book up from the floor of the crypt, she probably noticed that you saw her. And there was a possibility that someone else may have seen her, too. So she made sure to hide that purple book, which was what she had come here to look for. Where else to hide a book other than a library? After all, the walls are full of them. Locating the one book she had hidden among all the others would equate to looking for a needle in a haystack.¡±


    ¡°No wonder¡­!¡±


    ¡°Do you want to know her secret? And the secret of that book she hid?¡±


    ¡°Well, of course I do. But there¡¯s no way. No one saw where she hid it¡­.¡±


    Victorique shook her head so firmly he thought it might snap off, then looked up into his eyes.


    Those ancient eyes of hers had never before gazed at Kazuya from such close proximity. Guileless curiosity and the pleasure of solving a puzzle caused them to glitter like jewels. In the midst of experiencing a moment of release from a lifetime of unbearable tedium, her eyes were almost dancing with the simple joy of being alive. Until moments ago, her body resembled an inanimate doll, with a cold and emotionless face submerged under a sea of ennui and aloofness. But now her entire being came to life, as if she had transformed into an entirely different person.


    For an instant Kazuya felt that he had brushed against the true nature of this girl, who possessed a keen and wonderful mind that required mysteries as sustenance. He sensed something shining deep inside her, buried alongside interminable weariness and deep despair.


    But he instinctively felt that he must never let her know what he had discovered. For this extraordinary girl, like a mythical gilt-winged bird, surely kept it as her carefully guarded secret¡­.


    Keeping silent, Kazuya watched her curiously.


    ¡°That book, that book, that book!¡± muttered Victorique to herself, abruptly switching directions. Kazuya scrambled to keep up.


    Victorique placed a tiny foot on the first step of the labyrinthine staircase, and called out in a loud voice, ¡°Un!¡± She looked over her shoulder at Kazuya, and beckoned him with her hand. Then, taking another step, she again called out, ¡°Deux!¡±


    ¡°¡­What are you doing?¡±


    Ignoring Kazuya¡¯s confusion, she ascended another step. ¡°Trois! Quatre! Cinq!¡± she continued loudly. Kazuya followed a few paces behind her, regarding her with wonder.


    Victorique slowly made her way up the stairs, shouting out a number with each step. ¡°Onze! Douze! Treize! ¡­Treize?¡±


    She turned around. Her eyes were glittering fiercely, the color of blazing emerald. Kazuya had never laid eyes on such a fiery sight. He felt as if he would be scalded by the green glow, which was incandescent and yet chilled him to the bone.


    Her eyes sparkled as she asked Kazuya, ¡°Do you remember how they say that an ill fate befalls you if you stand on the thirteenth step? Something about being dragged into hell?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve heard that story.¡±


    ¡°The students at this school are extremely superstitious. It¡¯s as if the entire student body agreed to walk in lockstep with each other; as if everyone decided to stage a practical joke en masse. When foreigners such as you and that transfer student arrived one day, you couldn¡¯t help but appear out of the ordinary.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I guess so¡­¡±


    ¡°Which means there won¡¯t be a single student in this school who would dare set foot upon the thirteenth step of this staircase, right?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±


    ¡°This is likely what that girl was thinking. Even if you hid a book on a random bookshelf in a huge library, there is still a chance it would be discovered by someone accidentally. But the bookshelf located at around eye-level when you stand on the thirteenth step would surely be the only safe place. Therefore¡­¡±


    Victorique¡¯s face turned jubilant. She gently placed her delicate, childlike hand on the bookshelf, then wrapped it around an eerie-looking book with a purple cover, and slowly withdrew her hand from the shelf.


    ¡°Her only choice was to hide that purple book in the bookshelf on the thirteenth stair. Just as the ¡®wellspring of wisdom¡¯ told me!¡±


    Dumbfounded, Kazuya looked at the purple book in Victorique¡¯s hand, then back at her. After a few moments, he finally regained his ability to speak, and murmured, ¡°No wonder.¡±


    Victorique nodded, beaming. Her face was suddenly wreathed in an innocent and unclouded smile, like a small child who had just been praised. The unexpected change did not escape Kazuya¡¯s notice, but for now his mind remained occupied with more immediate matters.


    That book, that book, that book!


    And now they began to pore over that book together, their faces drawing close.


    A book dropped at the scene of a murder committed eight years ago. A book discovered and then hidden in the library by Avril, the peculiar transfer student who had come all the way from England in search of something. A book clad in dark purple, imbued with the same sinister darkness that saturated Avril herself¡­.


    Kazuya would later come to wonder whether subsequent events would have occurred in the same way had they not discovered the book. The quiet Grey Wolf Victorique would also be entangled in a new case connected to that sinister book, and would end up taking action at Kazuya¡¯s side. But that is an entirely different story¡­.

 Volume 1 - CH 3.1

    frontispiece illustration published in Fantasia Battle Royale 2004/08 issue


    chapter three ¡ª the ghost of Millie Marle haunts the abandoned storehouse


    [1]


    It was a warm, sunny spring afternoon.


    St. Marguerite¡¯s Library was housed within a stately tower that had been standing since the seventeenth century. Within its central atrium, surrounded by walls covered in huge bookshelves, a narrow labyrinthine staircase rose endlessly to the ceiling.


    Hidden within a mountain valley in the small Western European country of Sauvure was St. Marguerite¡¯s School, an august institution dedicated to educating the children of the aristocracy. That library stood deep within the campus, and for hundreds of years, the scent of dust, decay, and knowledge had softly drifted from the distant ceiling to settle upon the floor below, filling the tower with a tranquil atmosphere that no one dared disturb.


    The remnants of winter blanketed the spring afternoon in a humid air that was still cool enough to be comfortable.


    And for the first time that anyone could remember, the lively voices of a boy and girl rang out in the atrium of the library.


    ¡°Her only choice was to hide that purple book in the bookshelf on the thirteenth stair. Just as the ¡®wellspring of wisdom¡¯ told me!¡±


    ¡°No wonder.¡±


    ¡°See, here it is.¡±


    ¡°Whoa! You¡¯re right. That¡¯s the book I saw, Victorique. And you actually found it! You¡¯re amazing. Even if you are weird.¡±


    The impact of a hard object emitted a dull thump.


    The small girl, who spoke in a husky voice like that of an old woman, slowly stepped down from the wooden staircase. Someone looking at her would have been reminded of an exquisitely-crafted porcelain doll. Long, splendid blond hair spilled down her back like an unfurled velvet turban, and her green eyes shone with an ominous light. Her tiny, well-proportioned limbs, moving as if she were a doll come to life, were engulfed in as sumptuous a dress as anyone could dream up, which billowed out in countless layers of ladder lace and velvet ribbons.


    She gripped the old purple book with one hand.


    A small Asian boy alighted the staircase, tears in his eyes as he rubbed the side of his head. His black eyes reflected a gentle, good-natured spirit, but his lips were pulled into a slightly stubborn line. It appeared that the girl¡ªVictorique¡ªhad just struck him with the edge of the book.


    ¡°That really hurt. I¡¯m telling you, it hurt!¡±


    ¡°¡­Hmph.¡± Victorique snorted defiantly at the boy¡ªKazuya Kujou¡ªand his complaint.


    ¡°¡­You could at least pretend you care.¡±


    ¡°But I don¡¯t. Now, let¡¯s get back to this book.¡± Victorique opened the book. Then she frowned, realizing that the atrium was too dimly lit for her to read.


    From beside her, Kazuya grumbled, ¡°This is the first time I¡¯ve ever been hit by a girl. I strongly object, upon my honor as the third son of an imperial soldier. Women should walk three paces behind men, and not take a second husband*¡ªwait a second, I¡¯m getting mixed up. Hmm, now how did that go again¡­.¡±


    ¡°Shut up.¡±


    ¡°¡­S-sorry.¡± Kazuya hung his head. Then he gave up on protesting, or saying anything else for that matter, as he followed the tiny, terrifying Victorique outside through the library¡¯s swing door. They sat down together on the sunlit stone landing.


    His mood brightening, Kazuya lifted his bowed head and smiled cheerfully. ¡°Let¡¯s read it, Victorique.¡±


    ¡°¡­Mmm.¡± A disgruntled look appeared on her face, but despite her reluctance, she opened the purple book so that he also could see it. Victorique flipped the pages of the book faster and faster, making periodic grunts as she read with remarkable speed.


    She was turning the pages too fast for Kazuya to finish them. In an effort to keep up, he placed his head next to hers and peered more closely into the book. This action elicited an annoyed grimace from Victorique. His head was casting a shadow on the pages and making it difficult for her to read.


    However, Kazuya was by now fully engrossed in the book, and did not notice the dangerous expression starting to emerge on Victorique¡¯s small face.


    The purple book was in fact a manual of witchcraft, detailing the spell that wandering Gypsies used in the Middle Ages to resurrect the dead. Kazuya began to read aloud. ¡°Fourteen dove hearts. Seven owl eyes. Three drams of blood taken from a human child¡ªhow much is a dram again? This is some disturbing stuff¡­. Oww!¡± He suddenly clutched at his head, crying out in pain.


    Victorique had hit Kazuya¡¯s head with the corner of the book as hard as she could. It made an impressive thud. As he held his head and moaned in agony, she glanced at him and snorted. Then she turned her back to him and started to read rapidly by herself.


    Standing up, Kazuya shouted, ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you?! And what is this grudge you have against my head?!¡±


    ¡°Your head was in the way of my reading,¡± replied Victorique, her tone clipped.


    ¡°In the way?! How? Hasn¡¯t it ever crossed your mind that it might be possible to read together with someone in a friendly way?¡±


    Victorique looked up at him, a look of pure wonderment spreading across her face. Then she parted her small, strawberry-red lips, and said, ¡°No?¡±


    ¡°¡­That¡¯s what I thought.¡± Kazuya sullenly plopped back down onto the landing.


    Suddenly, a loose leaf of paper fluttered out of the purple book.


    It was a postcard. The picture on the front was of a street scene that looked vaguely Mediterranean. The addressee was listed as Avril Bradley, and the name of the sender was Sir Bradley.


    ¡°That¡¯s Avril¡¯s grandfather. He was a famous explorer from England. Although he ended up disappearing in a hot air balloon over the Atlantic ocean¡­¡± Kazuya said, still rubbing his head.


    Victorique pointed at the postcard. ¡°There¡¯s a stamp on it, but no postmark.¡±


    Kazuya cocked his head to the side in bemusement. ¡°You¡¯re right¡­. Then does that mean it was never delivered to Avril? I mean, it was stuck between the pages of this book and left on the floor of the crypt for so long.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps.¡± Victorique abruptly stood up, carelessly deposited the book into Kazuya¡¯s lap, and walked away without saying a word. She leaned her tiny hands against the heavy doors of the library and pushed them open with all her might, then disappeared into the atrium, still gripping the postcard in one hand.


    ¡°¡­Victorique?¡±


    He received no answer.


    ¡°Hey, what happened? Are you done with this book now?¡±


    The door slammed shut.


    Victorique¡¯s behavior was far too unpredictable to handle, and Kazuya couldn¡¯t help but feel infuriated. ¡°You¡¯re really too much, Victorique¡­. Wait, where are you?¡± Just as he was about to mutter another complaint, he opened the door to the library to follow her. But once inside, he stared around in dismay. ¡°Victorique¡­? Where did you take off to?¡±


    That mysterious girl, enveloped in lace and frills, had vanished into thin air like a puff of smoke.


    Kazuya ran to the foot of the long staircase and looked up.


    But there was not a soul to be seen. Moreover, the only other chamber within the atrium was the elevator, but that was reserved only for the use of staff, so she was unlikely to be there either.


    ¡°Hey, Victorique¡­ Where are you, you weird, smart, mean little girl¡­?¡±


    There was only silence.


    He stood in place for a minute, reluctant to leave. Then, finally giving up, he trudged away from the library, his eyes downcast¡­.


    *****


    *Kazuya is conflating two separate proverbs here: ¡°Women should walk three paces behind their master lest they step on his shadow¡± and ¡°Loyal subjects cannot serve two kings, and chaste women cannot take a second husband.¡±

 Volume 1 - CH 3.2

    [2]


    ¡°That Victorique¡­ What¡¯s her problem? She butts heads with me, she flings insults at me, and then she suddenly turns her back on that book and disappears¡­. What a weird kid. I just can¡¯t figure her out¡­. I¡¯ve never met a girl like that before¡­. No, I¡¯ve never even heardof girls like that before¡­.¡±


    Grumbling under his breath, Kazuya tucked the book under his arm and walked away from the library.


    Just when he thought that he was starting to make friends with that mysterious girl at the top of the library, Victorique¡­ He felt like he had lost sight of her. It was as if he had gotten a little bird to sit in his hand, and then had it suddenly fly away. He felt frustrated, lonely, and thrown off balance all at the same time.


    Kazuya remembered that time when he had gone inside the library and saw something flutter down from up above. Victorique had heard him sneezing, and dropped a piece of tissue for him.


    ¡°¡­And I¡¯d hoped we could be friends,¡± Kazuya whispered, his shoulders slumping.


    On his way back to the dormitory, Kazuya took a different gravel path from the one he normally used when walking around campus. When he passed in front of an abandoned building, a thought suddenly occurred to him, and he halted. This place had once been a storehouse, but at some point it had lost its assigned use and was now completely deserted. Left forgotten to the elements, it gave off an eerie feeling.


    As Kazuya carefully scrutinized the building, a cold wind whistled past him. Within an instant, the warm sunlight had gone dark. Looking at the sky, he saw grey clouds swiftly amassing to block the sun. A gust of wind whistled by again.


    Seized by curiosity, he approached the storehouse. Peering inside, he saw old tables, chairs, and tarnished mirrors jumbled up haphazardly.


    He took a step inside, then another¡­.


    A hard object slammed into the back of his head. The impact felt infinitely heavier than the blow he had received earlier from a small girl wielding a book. The scene before his eyes turned bright white.


    And then he crumpled heavily to the ground¡­.

 Volume 1 - CH 3.3

    [3]


    Kazuya came to on a bed in the infirmary. A woman was seated next to him, applying cool compresses to his head¡ªit was Miss C¨¦cile.


    After noticing that Kazuya had regained consciousness, a look of dismay spread across her face. ¡°Oh, Kujou, why were you taking a nap in front of the storehouse?¡±


    ¡°Uh, no, I wasn¡¯t taking a nap there¡­.¡± Kazuya sat up, rubbing his head. Someone hit me from behind¡­. But who could it be, and why? Wait! What if Avril was trying to get that book back, and she was the one¡­?


    He looked around himself, but the purple book was nowhere in sight. In a panic, he asked, ¡°Miss C¨¦cile, when I was brought here, did I happen to be holding a book with a purple cover?¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°A purple book? No, I didn¡¯t see anything like that.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­. Also, did anyone see Avril around the area where I had collapsed?¡±


    ¡°Oh, we didn¡¯t just see her. Avril was the one who found you lying on the ground. She ran over to the gardeners to ask for help, and they brought you here.¡±


    Kazuya mulled this over. If Avril rescued me, then wouldn¡¯t that mean she¡¯s not the one who struck me¡­?


    As he contemplated the implications, he saw the door to the infirmary slowly open toward the hallway. There was a pale hand grasping the doorknob.


    ¡°¡­Kujou.¡± Avril hesitantly peeked her head into the room. ¡°Are you ¡­ okay¡­?¡±


    Kazuya¡¯s eyes met with hers. Then, for some reason, a chill ran down his spine, and he flinched away from her.


    Avril was glaring at Kazuya with an odd, decidedly un-girlish expression that he could not quite interpret.


    ¡°Gosh, Kujou. What on earth possessed you to take a nap in a place like that? Did you study so much you forgot to sleep? I don¡¯t know what to say to you.¡±


    She had suddenly returned to her usual cheerful self.


    Bewildered by her change in affect, Kazuya stayed silent. It¡¯s probably strange of me to suspect her¡­. But Avril is the one who found that purple book and then hid it away, and she might be the one who attacked me while I was carrying it, too¡­. Nah, I¡¯m probably overthinking it. There¡¯s no way she could do something like that¡­.


    Avril smiled unconcernedly, oblivious to Kazuya¡¯s inner dilemma. ¡°Say, did you know that the storehouse where you passed out is famous among the students here?¡±


    ¡°¡­No.¡±


    ¡°They say that the ghost of a dead student¡ª¡±


    Before Avril could finish her sentence, Miss C¨¦cile abruptly cried out, ¡°Eek!¡± and began to babble, ¡°Um, I need to go write the next exam! Oh, yes, I have to water the flowerpots!¡± as she fled the room. The door closed after her with a bang, and the sound of her running footsteps faded away into the distance. Kazuya and Avril stared at the door in stunned silence.


    Avril recovered first. ¡°They say the ghost of one of the girl students haunts the storehouse, and that the stairs to the basement are actually a portal into hell. If the ghost beckons you down the stairs, you die.¡±


    Kazuya knitted his brows. ¡°¡­Is the name of that student Millie Marle, by any chance?¡±


    ¡°It could be. But isn¡¯t it kind of disrespectful to spread rumors about an actual dead person just for sport? Well, I can¡¯t stand ghost stories, myself,¡± Avril said in a low voice, her face solemn.


    Kazuya remembered seeing that look on her face before¡ªit looked far too adult, not at all suited to the face of a fifteen year old girl. He started to wonder whether Avril really was the same age as he.


    Seeing Kazuya about to stand up from the bed, Avril lent him her hand. As she did so, she continued, ¡°Apparently, there¡¯s also a ghost story about the library.¡±


    ¡°¡­The library?¡± Kazuya repeated, startled.


    ¡°Yeah. They say, ¡®a golden fairy inhabits the top of the library¡¯. That fairy knows all the mysteries of the world, but when people go ask for her help, she demands their souls in exchange¡­. I think she sounds more like a devil than a fairy, doesn¡¯t she?¡±


    Kazuya shook his head. ¡°If you¡¯re talking about the top of the library, there aren¡¯t any fairies or devils there, just Victorique.¡±


    ¡°Victorique¡­?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Remember how there¡¯s that empty seat in our classroom? The one by the window. That¡¯s Victorique¡¯s seat. She always skips class and holes herself up in the library. So, there¡¯s no golden fairy at the top of the library, just a golden-haired girl, and what she demands isn¡¯t souls, just exotic foreign sweets.¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Avril¡¯s eyes glittered with interest, and she nodded several times as if thinking to herself.


    *****


    Kazuya bid Avril goodbye, and began to walk down the hallway. At the far end, he saw a pointed golden head advancing in his direction. It belonged to Inspector Gr¨¦ville de Blois. Accompanying him were his two deputies, wearing rabbit-skin hunting caps and holding hands.


    As soon as he caught sight of Kazuya, he struck a pose, and said, ¡°Why, hello there, Kujou! Um, well, I suppose you haven¡¯t seen it either¡­.¡±


    ¡°Seen what?¡±


    ¡°Just a little something I¡¯ve lost. No, never mind, forget it¡­.¡± The inspector looked as if he wanted to ask something, but instead chose to change the subject. ¡°You see, I¡¯m very busy. Just as I solved the case of the mummified knight, another case came along to run me ragged. Perhaps you¡¯ve heard of a man known as Cuiaran?¡±


    ¡°¡­Nope, can¡¯t say I have.¡±


    ¡°Cuiaran was a famous thief who plundered all over Europe. No one has ever seen him, and no one knows his real name. He¡¯s been keeping a low profile for the past seven or eight years. Some say that he may have already retired, and is now living the high life who knows where. And then some think he may have died in an accident or something to that effect¡­.¡±


    The inspector paused, then resumed speaking briskly.


    ¡°At any rate, Kujou. Lately, the capital of Sauvure, Sauvr¨¨me, has been in a bit of an uproar over the appearance of a thief calling himself the second Cuiaran. Although he seems to be pretty young. So, according to a report from Sauvure police headquarters, they received word that this second Cuiaran is apparently heading toward this village for reasons unknown. Apparently, there was someone who saw him get on a train, although I don¡¯t know many details other than that¡­. Anyway, Kujou. What do you think a famous thief would possibly want to do with a village like this? It¡¯s not as if there¡¯s anything valuable here. All we have are vineyards and apple orchards, and other than that, there¡¯s just this mysterious St. Marguerite¡¯s School of ours¡­¡± Inspector de Blois tilted his head to one side, baffled. ¡°It¡¯s beyond me¡­.¡±


    ¡°It isn¡¯t as if I would know either. Although, if you were to ask Victorique, I¡¯m sure she could come up with the answer in no time¡­¡±


    The inspector pretended not to hear that.


    Kazuya glared at him.


    And then he wondered to himself what exactly the relationship was between this eccentric aristocrat of a detective, and the extraordinarily strange girl at the top of the library.


    Inspector de Blois was in charge of investigating both cases that Kazuya had been dragged into: first, the motorbike decapitation case, and then the mummified knight case. In both instances, he had solved the mysteries quite handily with Victorique¡¯s help. But although the inspector knew Victorique¡¯s location and the brilliance of her mind, and relied on her help, he seemed to have sworn never to speak to her directly.


    On the other hand, one could say that it was Victorique who despised the inspector and treated him as if he didn¡¯t exist¡­.


    What was one supposed to call this sort of relationship? And why did they seem to hate each other so?


    The inspector suddenly spoke again as if remembering something. ¡°Now that I think of it, Kujou. I found out something about the perpetrator of the mummified knight case, Millie Marle. That teacher of yours, C¨¦cile or whatever her name was, used to be a student at this school.¡±


    ¡°Okay¡­¡±


    ¡°Are you paying attention? C¨¦cile was a student here eight years ago. You know what that means, right? C¨¦cile and Millie Marle used to be classmates.¡±


    Kazuya widened his eyes in surprise.


    After all, when they had entered the crypt and discovered the body, Miss C¨¦cile never even alluded to that fact¡­.


    ¡°I ran into her earlier when she left the infirmary, and told her about Millie Marle being the killer. It seemed to be a great shock to her.¡± The inspector pointed at the flower garden behind the building. ¡°After that, I saw her wander over there. She looked like she was crying.¡±


    Then the inspector walked away, his two deputies following him down the hallway¡­.

 Volume 1 - CH 3.4

    [4]


    As Kazuya brooded over what he should say to her, he headed toward the garden behind the main campus building. There he found Miss C¨¦cile next to the flower beds. She was crouched down and poking at the ground with a stick in her hand, sighing disconsolately.


    Kazuya was still not quite sure of how best to approach her, but before he could ask her about the case, the sight of something tucked under her arm caught his eye. To his surprise, it was the purple book he had lost.


    ¡°Miss C¨¦cile, that book¡­?!¡±


    His teacher heard his voice and stood up.


    ¡°How did you get that book?!¡±


    She blinked in surprise. ¡°Oh, you mean this? I found it on the ground behind the flowers. Is this yours, then?¡±


    ¡°Y-yes, it is¡­.¡±


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t treat your books like that. But what kind of book is this, anyway?¡±


    She left unsaid the question of what he could possibly be doing with a book about resurrecting the dead. Kazuya grasped her meaning nonetheless, and mumbled a perfunctory excuse while thinking to himself, It was on the ground behind the flowers¡­? Why would that happen? After Avril hid that book and it was retrieved, someone attacked me and knocked me out while I was carrying it. But if this book is so valuable, why would it end up getting tossed in a flower bed¡­?


    The memory of Victorique suddenly losing interest in the book and walking away just as she had begun to read it so feverishly, was also starting to gnaw at him. What¡¯s the meaning of all this¡­?


    Kazuya put his face in his hands. The sight of his distress elicited a puzzled look from Miss C¨¦cile.


    He recovered his composure, and asked, ¡°By the way, Miss C¨¦cile. Inspector de Blois told me something a little while ago¡­.¡±


    ¡°Oh, really? What did he say?¡±


    ¡°Um, well, he said that you used to be classmates with Miss Millie Marle.¡±


    Miss C¨¦cile gave a start. ¡°¡­Yes, that¡¯s right.¡±


    ¡°Were you friends with her?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I was. So this is all quite shocking to me¡­.¡± A cloud passed over her face.


    *****


    Moments later, Kazuya and Miss C¨¦cile left the flower garden, and started walking slowly through the expansive, park-like school grounds.


    Miss C¨¦cile knitted her brows. ¡°The truth is that I never wanted to go to the crypt by myself in the first place. I knew Millie was resting there, and that made me sad. That¡¯s why I asked you and Miss Avril to come with me.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­.¡±


    ¡°But then all this happened¡­. I couldn¡¯t imagine Millie actually killing someone¡­.¡±


    Without intending it, they had ended up in front of the storehouse where Kazuya had been attacked. He pointed at the building, and said, ¡°That was where I collapsed.¡±


    Miss C¨¦cile looked scandalized. ¡°Oh, Kujou, why did you fall asleep in a place like this? Why would you do that?¡±


    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t quite fall asleep¡­.¡± Kazuya took a careful step toward the storehouse. ¡°Avril said that the rest of the students make sure to stay away from here. It seems that they like to tell a ghost story about the ghost of a dead girl¡ªMillie Marle. They say she haunts this area, and tries to drag people into hell.¡±


    ¡°My goodness!¡± Miss C¨¦cile looked appalled, and more than slightly frightened, as she gripped Kazuya¡¯s arm with both hands and peered into the storehouse.


    Dust had accumulated on every surface in the room. Old tables and chairs were heaped into tall piles, and near the back, a decaying spiral staircase led to the basement. Rays of sunlight infiltrated into the darkness through the partly opened door, and sparkled upon white specks of dust dancing in the air.


    But then¡­


    From the back of the room¡ªno, from the direction of the basement, Kazuya and Miss C¨¦cile thought they could detect the sound of a faint, keening wail.


    They exchanged a look.


    Then they strained to listen again. But this time they heard nothing but silence.


    ¡°Miss C¨¦cile, just now, I thought I heard something that sounded like a voice¡­.¡± Kazuya turned to her, but was startled to see the look on her face.


    Behind her large, round glasses, tears were pooling in her droopy, puppy-like eyes. Her shoulders trembled violently.


    Then she said, ¡°I¡¯m scared!¡±


    ¡°¡­Huh?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m scared! I¡¯m angry with you, Kujou!¡±


    ¡°At, at me? Why?!¡±


    ¡°Because I¡¯m scared!¡±


    Apparently, Miss C¨¦cile was prone to fright. Kazuya was reminded of the time earlier in the infirmary, when she suddenly began to blurt out excuses to leave the room the moment Avril had mentioned ghosts¡­.


    Now having shed her previous guise as a kind and caring teacher, she poked a finger at Kazuya accusingly, and pushed him into the storehouse.


    A chilly wind blew past them, caressing their cheeks.


    Once inside, they heard a loud noise out of nowhere. Quaking in fear, Miss C¨¦cile clung to Kazuya¡¯s back. ¡°Let me know if anything happens, okay? I¡¯m taking off my glasses! Then I won¡¯t be able to see anything, whether ghosts or anything else!¡±


    Kazuya turned around and saw that she had in fact taken off her glasses, and was now looking up at him with an unfocused gaze. Her brown eyes, looking much larger than they usually did while she was wearing glasses, darted about nervously.


    She then tripped over a wooden box on the floor, and let loose a shriek that resembled the cry of a small child. Kazuya said exasperatedly, ¡°Miss C¨¦cile, it¡¯s not safe without your glasses; please put them back on.¡±


    She clucked her tongue in chagrin, then put on her glasses.


    But the next moment¡­


    Save ¡­ me¡­.


    They heard a soft voice. Kazuya and Miss C¨¦cile turned to each other, and shook their heads to confirm that it didn¡¯t belong to either of them.


    Save ¡­ me!


    It was the voice of a young girl.


    In the dim light of the storehouse, the pale upper body of a girl seemed to materialize in front of them. Blond hair, large blue eyes, and a long, straight nose adorned her lovely face. But her skin was unnaturally pallid, and her cheeks were sunken.


    Miss C¨¦cile screamed, ¡°A ghost just appeared?!¡±


    And then, with a peculiar slithering sound, the girl vanished.


    Miss C¨¦cile screamed again. ¡°A ghost just disappeared?!¡±


    Then she removed her glasses again with her trembling hands, and with an oddly stubborn look on her face, handed them to Kazuya. ¡°Now I won¡¯t be able to see anything ever again!¡± she cried out as she grabbed his arm and yanked him toward the exit. Then she stumbled outside, screaming, ¡°N-o-o!¡±


    ¡°M-Miss C¨¦cile¡­?!¡±


    *****


    Miss C¨¦cile fled as fast as she could, screaming all the while. However, due to the shortness of her legs, in the end she could manage no more than a slow trot, and Kazuya needed only to slightly hasten his normal walking speed in order to catch up with her.


    ¡°Miss C¨¦cile, your glasses, your glasses!¡±


    After leaving the storehouse safely in the distance, Miss C¨¦cile finally slowed to a halt. She took her glasses from Kazuya¡¯s hands and arranged them neatly on her face, then said in a very firm voice, ¡°¡­Kujou, you¡¯d best not tell any of the other students about what just happened. I¡¯ll give you a failing mark if you do!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to tell! And I never fail my classes. But more importantly¡­ What on earth was that just now?¡±


    Miss C¨¦cile shut her eyes tightly. ¡°A g-g-g-ghost?¡±


    ¡°¡­Miss C¨¦cile, there is no such thing as ghosts.¡±


    ¡°But it wasn¡¯t Millie Marle either.¡±


    ¡°¡­Oh?¡±


    She reopened her brown eyes. ¡°It was a ghost, but not Millie¡¯s ghost. It didn¡¯t look anything like her. That wasn¡¯t the face of anyone I¡¯ve ever seen at this school.¡±


    Their eyes met in bewilderment.


    ¡°¡­Then whose ghost is it?¡±


    A cold wind seeped in between their bodies as they stood frozen in place¡­.

 Volume 1 - CH 3.5

    [5]


    Meanwhile, in St. Marguerite¡¯s Library¡­


    ¡°And there¡¯s supposedly a girl who comes here¡­?¡± Avril stood looking up from the bottom floor of the atrium in the strange square-shaped tower, rich with the scent of dust, decay, and knowledge.


    ¡°No girl would want to spend her time in a place like this. Maybe just old men would like it here. Or maybe ¡­ ghosts.¡± She giggled at her own words. ¡°It¡¯s certainly a cozy place for a ghost. Millie Marle should come haunt this library, not that musty old storehouse.¡± The thought prompted Avril to throw her head back in laughter.


    Then she suddenly stopped laughing, her face assuming a look of concentration as she began to climb the narrow wooden staircase. As she ascended higher and higher through the maze of stairs, her lively, nimble footsteps echoed through the tower, at odds with the gloomy atmosphere. The enormous bookshelves that wrapped around the walls of the library rattled in time with the vibration of each footfall.


    *****


    About ten minutes later¡­


    Avril had started running up the steps with boundless energy, but the labyrinthine stairs were far longer than she anticipated, seeming to go on forever. After several minutes, her stamina had reached its limit. She climbed the last few flights with her hands on her hips, almost crawling up the stairs as she doubled over, panting.


    ¡°And Kujou ¡­ climbs up these ¡­ these monstrous stairs, like they¡¯re nothing¡­ I can¡¯t imagine what he¡¯s thinking¡­.¡±


    Avril took a quick glance over the side of the staircase, and found the floor of the atrium so far below her that she felt dizzy just from the sight of it. She tried to trace the maze of stairs from bottom to top, but it seemed to stretch endlessly upward, like the writhing torso of an unearthly creature, before she could finally locate the step upon which she stood.


    She felt a shudder run through her body. The labyrinthine stairs looked as if they were about to start moving any second, grabbing hold of her like something out of a nightmare¡­.


    ¡°¡­This place is giving me the creeps,¡± Avril whispered to herself.


    She dashed up the stairs as fast as she could, at last setting foot upon the white floor at the very top of the staircase. And then she cried out in surprise, for there she found¡­


    ¡­a garden.


    *****


    Tropical trees and garishly-colored flowers bedecked the lush, green conservatory. Sunlight peeked out furtively from rectangular skylights.


    Avril took stock of her surroundings. ¡°But there¡¯s no one¡­¡± She raised her voice in incredulity. ¡°Is no one here¡­?¡±


    There was not a soul in sight.


    Avril scanned the vicinity, losing count of how many times she swiveled her eyes back and forth.


    Between the conservatory and the staircase, there was a small, dimly lit space about the size of a closet. An antique-looking glass lamp, stacks of heavy books, and an old ceramic pipe lay scattered on the floor.


    Avril inspected the area, frowning.


    Everything was covered in a layer of dust. She felt as if she could almost see time and stillness themselves blanketing the floor in the form of white dust. It was a desolate place.


    ¡°There¡¯s no one here,¡± Avril murmured again. ¡°If there was anyone, it¡¯d be a ghost.¡± Trying to squelch her fear, she deliberately called out in a loud voice, ¡°Hey, ghost!¡±


    She hesitantly began creeping forward, step by step, her eyes nervously darting to and fro. But just as she was about to enter the conservatory¡­


    ¡°Eek¡­!?¡± Avril emitted a brief shriek, this time in genuine fear.


    Then her tense expression slowly relaxed into a smile of relief.


    What she saw was an elegant porcelain doll, casually placed against the railing.


    ¡­It somehow looked very lonely.


    The doll was much smaller than life size, but looked much heavier and sturdier than most dolls. It wore a dress made of Gobelins tapestry, and upon the small head, a crocheted lace bonnet veiled long, flowing blond hair.


    Its eyes were wide open, frozen and unblinking.


    Avril suddenly broke into a smile. She reached out to the doll and gently lifted it, then hugged it tightly. After peering closely at the porcelain doll¡¯s exquisite face, and seeing the way each individual strand of its long eyelashes had been painstakingly applied, she exclaimed, ¡°Why, how adorable!¡±


    Noticing how much dust had accumulated upon its elaborate clothing and headdress, Avril realized that the doll must have been placed there a very long time ago. She sat the doll upon the floor and carefully brushed off the dust, then began talking to herself absentmindedly. ¡°This must be a very expensive doll. It might even be¡­¡±


    Her face suddenly changed into a cold and strangely mature expression, one that belied the guise of the cheerful young girl whom Kazuya and Miss C¨¦cile knew.


    ¡°This doll must¡¯ve been designed by Grafenstein, that brilliant 19th century dollmaker from Germany. Look, there¡¯s even his signature here.¡±


    Avril gently lifted up the doll¡¯s long blond hair, exposing the mark of a decorative letter G on the back of its neck. Then she nodded in satisfaction. ¡°They say he made a deal with the devil so that he could put souls in the dolls he created. Those dolls were possessed by evil spirits and went roaming about at nighttime. His handiwork ought to fetch a pretty penny¡­. Well, well, what do you know! I came all the way to these mountains in the middle of nowhere to look for Sir Bradley¡¯s secret family heirloom, and now I¡¯ve stumbled across this marvelous find. Only the second Cuiaran could pull something like this off! All right, maybe I¡¯m getting a little ahead of myself here. At least I seem to be well on my way to becoming a fine thief, maybe even one who could measure up to the likes of the first Cuiaran. Now, little lady, why don¡¯t we¡­¡±


    Now Avril unceremoniously picked up the doll and looked around for a place to hide it. She spotted a small chest, and was just about to open it when a sudden thought gave her pause. Then she decided to hide the doll behind the chest instead.


    ¡°If I carry the doll out of the library, someone might see me. After all, I thought I hid that purple book so carefully, but it didn¡¯t take long for someone to snatch it out from under me. And I¡¯d spent so much time looking for it, too. So, someone was definitely watching me. I¡¯ll see if I can track that down again, but for now I¡¯ll take this¡ªoh, I know. I¡¯ll bring my satchel here and use that to carry it away. It¡¯s not like anyone will notice a doll going missing from this dusty old place anyway. This is truly, honestly, a marvelous find.¡± Avril stood up, nodding contentedly.


    All of a sudden, a thought occurred to her, and she frowned. ¡°Wait a sec¡­. I remember when Kujou told me about this place, he mentioned that a girl named Victorique spends her time here. But so far I haven¡¯t seen anyone like that¡­.¡± A mystified expression crossed her face.


    Avril sized up her surroundings.


    There was an old pipe.


    A mountain of thick, heavy books.


    A lamp.


    ¡­All of these began to take on a surreal feeling, as if they had been already sitting there for hundreds of years, suspended in a dreamlike silence.


    Gathering up her bravado, Avril said jokingly to the doll, ¡°Hey, little lady, surely you aren¡¯t the girl Kujou was talking about, are you? That can¡¯t possibly be true, right?¡±


    Naturally, a porcelain doll could not reply. Its large eyes, frozen wide open, stared at her vacantly.


    ¡°That can¡¯t be it¡­.¡±


    There was no one to respond to her.


    Then, suddenly, Avril felt a chill run through her body.


    ¡°¡¯The golden fairy inhabits the top of the library¡¯¡­.¡± she whispered to herself, as if remembering something.


    Avril turned to the chest where she had hidden the golden-haired doll, and said in a ghoulish tone, ¡°¡¯The fairy demands souls in exchange for her assistance¡¯¡­.¡±


    She thought she sensed something, and drew back.


    ¡°A doll created by Grafenstein, with a soul granted to it by the devil!¡±


    A cool wind blew in from the skylights.


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me that you¡¯ve bewitched Kujou in order to steal his soul¡­?¡±


    The pale, sculpted lips of the doll seemed to form a whisper¡­.


    Avril shrieked, then stumbled backwards until she reached the landing of the stairs, nearly losing her balance and falling down the steps. She gave a worldly click of her tongue that didn¡¯t suit her lovely face in the least, and cried out in a quavering voice, ¡°Tch! You¡¯ve got to be kidding me! There¡¯s no way that could happen!¡±


    Avril proceeded to run down the maze-like stairs in such a hurry that she nearly tripped over her own feet¡­.

 Volume 1 - CH 3.6

    [6]


    At the same time as Avril was fleeing the library, Kazuya was rushing to return to it. After comforting a distressed Miss C¨¦cile, he stopped by the dormitory, gathered together some exotic sweets to take with him, and took off running again.


    Just as he was about to walk into the atrium of the library, he bumped hard into someone who happened to be making a hasty exit at the same time. ¡°Whoa!¡±


    The person he had bumped into turned out to be Avril, panting raggedly. ¡°K-Kujou¡­¡±


    ¡°Avril, what¡¯s wrong?¡±


    ¡°I, uh, went to that conservatory that you told me about¡­.¡±


    ¡°You climbed all the way to the top? Exhausting, isn¡¯t it? So ¡­ what on earth¡¯s the matter, then?¡±


    Avril looked as if she had something to say, but she remained silent. At last she shook her head and said, ¡°Nothing. Nothing at all¡­¡± and hurriedly exited the library.


    ¡°What¡¯s gotten into her, I wonder?¡± Kazuya scratched his head at her reaction, but decided against following her, and went ahead into the library.


    *****


    The library was cloaked in its usual stillness. It was a tranquility with a certain air of slight dustiness.


    As Kazuya gazed up at the labyrinthine staircase, tracing its length all the way to the ceiling, a faint melancholy clouded his eyes. Then he gathered up his courage and nodded determinedly to himself, and began to ascend the stairs with loud, firm footsteps.


    But the staircase was ever so long.


    He continued climbing.


    And climbing.


    ¡­And climbing still higher.


    Kazuya lost all sense of time. He was seized with the feeling that he had been placed under an evil spell, and was merely passing the same point over and over again. When he accidentally looked over the side of the staircase, he felt his head spin from the tremendous height, and was forced to pause for a moment.


    Suddenly, Kazuya spotted something small and golden move near the top of his field of vision. He stopped climbing and looked up, squinting his eyes. ¡°Victorique?¡±


    ¡°¡­I suppose you¡¯ve brought some sweets for me.¡± The faint sound of her husky voice echoed from far above.


    A look of exasperation crossed Kazuya¡¯s face. ¡°I do. It¡¯s called karintou. It might be a bit hard to chew, but I don¡¯t want to hear any complaints.¡±


    ¡°¡­Hmph.¡± Her small head withdrew from sight. A half-second later, her long blond hair languidly followed in her wake, undulating then disappearing, like the tail of some ethereal creature of myth¡­.


    *****


    At last, Kazuya finished climbing all the way to the top of the library. Between gasps for air, he asked, ¡°I ran into Avril just as I was arriving, and she mentioned something about visiting the conservatory. Did you see her?¡±


    Victorique pretended not to hear him.


    ¡°Well?¡±


    ¡°¡­Dunno,¡± she answered curtly.


    ¡°Does that mean you didn¡¯t see her? That¡¯s odd.¡±


    Victorique plucked a single piece of karintou from the bag he was holding, and eyed it suspiciously. She looked it up and down and side to side, then held it close to her small nose and took a sniff. ¡°It smells sweet!¡±


    Kazuya took a quick peek at Victorique¡¯s expression, and saw a smile slowly spreading across her face¡ªperhaps she was pleased with his choice of sweets, he thought, his mood brightening. ¡°Of course it does. It¡¯s candy, after all.¡±


    ¡°But it looks like dog poop.¡±


    ¡°¡­Girls shouldn¡¯t say such things.¡±


    Victorique parted her small lips, and popped the karintou into her mouth. Then she grimaced. ¡°It¡¯s hard!¡±


    ¡°I guess you don¡¯t like hard things, then. You threw away the kaminari-okoshi because it was too hard for you back then, too. Oh, Victorique, you¡¯re just like a little old granny. ¡­Ouch!¡±


    She had kicked his shin with the pointed toe of her boot. As he keeled over in agony, from the corner of his eye he observed Victorique extending her hand for a second helping, as if she¡¯d found the karintou to her liking. The sight of this filled him with relief.


    ¡°¡­Ow, ow, ow. Anyway, Victorique. Let¡¯s go on with the other thing I came to talk about.¡± Kazuya began to breathlessly retell the latest events. ¡°I saw Inspector de Blois again a little while ago. Apparently, he¡¯s searching for a copycat of some famous thief called Cuiaran, but no one seems to know for sure what he looks like or who he is. So¡ª¡±


    ¡°I already know about Cuiaran,¡± interrupted Victorique diffidently.


    Kazuya gave a start. ¡°What do you know about him?¡±


    ¡°What he looks like and who he is.¡±


    ¡°¡­.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s that girl Avril; she¡¯s the second Cuiaran. She was just here earlier proclaiming that for all the world to hear. Made for quite the moronic sight.¡±


    With this, Victorique seemed to lose interest in the discussion. Placing her book back on her lap, she once again began to read with remarkable speed, finishing each page in the blink of an eye.


    The piece of karintou in Kazuya¡¯s hand fell to the ground with a plop.


    Victorique looked up at him. ¡°What¡¯s wrong? Standing right there with your mouth wide open like a fool. Don¡¯t blame me if a fly goes inside.¡±


    ¡°Avril is Cuiaran?!¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t I just say so?¡±


    ¡°¡­Really?¡±


    ¡°Why should I lie?¡±


    Victorique returned to reading and nibbling on pieces of karintou, while pointedly ignoring Kazuya.


    Then Kazuya shrieked, ¡°Nooo!¡±


    ¡°Shut up, Kujou!¡± Flying into a rage, she grabbed pieces of candy with her small hand and threw them at Kazuya. ¡°Be quiet! You¡¯re interrupting my reading!¡±


    ¡°Nooo! ¡­Wait, how is that possible?¡±


    ¡°How should I know?¡±


    Victorique smoked her pipe unconcernedly for a few moments. Then she suddenly turned to look at him, a resolute smile on her lips. ¡°Isn¡¯t there something you want to ask me?¡±


    ¡°¡­What would that be?¡±


    ¡°About the truth I reconstructed by means of my wellspring of wisdom, while amusing myself with fragments of chaos in order to pass the time?¡±


    Kazuya leaned forward. ¡°Are you saying you solved the mystery? But what else do you know about this case?¡±


    ¡°I know who the first Cuiaran was.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± Kazuya stared at her in amazement. ¡°Is it ¡­ someone we know? Really? Come on, tell me, tell me!¡±


    Victorique opened her green eyes. They flickered with a cold fire¡ªan uncanny flame, the likes of which Kazuya had never seen before, filled with fearlessness, and a deep sorrow¡­.


    ¡°It happened something like this.¡±


    And then Victorique uttered a certain name¡­


    *****


    The great thief Cuiaran came to St. Marguerite¡¯s School, and a certain mysterious transfer student followed in his footsteps as the second Cuiaran.


    Her target: an enigmatic purple book, in which was written the dark rite for reviving the dead¡­.


    The foreign student from the Orient, Kazuya Kujou, was dragged into the case along with his guardian angel¡ªor was she an evil spirit, come to take his soul?¡ªthe mysterious girl Victorique, who delighted in the exercise of her own wonderful mind.


    The adventure of Victorique, Kazuya, and the purple book would later come to an unexpected conclusion. But that is an entirely different story¡­..

 Volume 1 - CH 4.1

    chapter four ¡ª a golden fairy inhabits the top of the library


    [1]


    On a quiet evening in springtime, in St. Marguerite¡¯s Library¡­


    The passage of many years was etched into the stone-hewn walls of this enormous repository of books, unrivaled in Western Europe. Beyond the leather-covered swing door, hammered through with round brass tacks, row after row of bookshelves encircled the central atrium. A feeling of absolute reverence permeated this space, as if wisdom, time, and stillness themselves had silently fallen upon the ground like a layer of heavy snow.


    This was a sanctuary of knowledge hidden deep within the grounds of St. Marguerite¡¯s School, a distinguished institution nestled among the mountains of the small European country of Sauvure. For every day of the past three hundred years, it sat in cultivation of wondrous repose ¡­ until now.


    *****


    ¡°Are you serious?! Maxim is Cuiaran?!¡±


    Far away at the top of that quiet library, just underneath the solemn religious fresco painted on the ceiling, resounded the piercing shout of a boy overcome with surprise. The countless books stacked along the walls, roused from their long sleep, seemed to slowly blink open their wrinkled eyes and gaze up at the ceiling as the queer noise ricocheted around the tower.


    A narrow wooden staircase constructed in the form of an enormous labyrinth snaked precariously upward from the atrium below. Close to the distant ceiling above was a verdant conservatory, overgrown with tropical vegetation and enticing flowers in full bloom. The boy¡¯s voice seemed to be coming from somewhere around this conservatory, but¡­


    ¡°¡­Be quiet, Kujou!¡±


    ¡°B-but how is that possible?¡±


    ¡°How should I know?¡±


    Alongside the innocent voice of the young boy, another voice rang out. It sounded husky, almost like that of an old woman, and yet was also strangely sonorous. That voice seemed to be savagely rebuffing the young boy. From the boy¡¯s direction came the response of an ¡°Oh¡­¡± and a ¡°Hmm¡­?¡± followed by a groan, until at last silence filled the library once more.


    There in the conservatory, an Asian boy of small build and warm countenance sat on the floor holding his knees. In front of him was a tiny, exquisite doll.


    The doll, in the form of a girl, was constructed at nearly life size at around one hundred and forty centimeters. A lavishly cumbersome dress swallowed her body up in billowing layers of white ladder lace and pink velvet ribbons. Her magnificent long blond hair spilled down to the floor like a velvet turban come undone. And her cool green eyes, set within her small, astonishingly well-proportioned face, radiated a venom that was nearly breathtaking in its coldness.


    Heavy books lay open on the doll¡¯s lap, and yet more opened books sat scattered about her in all directions, spiraling around her small body like a ritualistic circle invoking some dark magic.


    She took a puff from a ceramic pipe that she clenched in the delicate fingers of her pale hand, as a thin white strand of smoke lazily drifted toward the skylights¡­.


    *****


    ¡°I was really shocked when you said that Avril is the second Cuiaran¡­. But why do you think Maxim was the first one?¡±


    In response to Kazuya¡¯s question, the doll Victorique¡ªno, the girl, though she may have been petite enough and beautiful enough, not to mention impassive enough to be mistaken for a doll¡ªgave her answer, albeit an impatiently stated one.


    ¡°The first Cuiaran disappeared all of a sudden seven or eight years ago. Maxim came back to the school every spring, but in the spring of eight years ago, was killed. And when Maxim¡¯s body was discovered, only then did the second Cuiaran appear¡­. Can you honestly call this mere coincidence?¡±


    ¡°B-but still¡­¡±


    ¡°Most likely, each time Maxim, no, the first Cuiaran returned to the school, he hid his loot somewhere on campus, the same way a pirate hides his booty in a cave. The purple book was among these. But before he was able to hide it, he was locked along with it inside the crypt. Well, that¡¯s what I think, at least.¡±


    Victorique said no more, and once again retreated to her books, which she began to read at an astonishing speed. As soon as she turned a page, she had already finished reading it and was ready to flip to the next one. She would occasionally interrupt this routine by bringing her pipe to her lips and taking a puff from it.


    Kazuya stared at her intently as she did this.


    Then Victorique suddenly dropped her book onto the floor, opened her green eyes wide, and stared blankly into space.


    ¡°Wh-what¡¯s wrong?¡±


    ¡°¡­I¡¯m bored!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±


    ¡°I read and I read, and I¡¯m still bored! Hey, you foolish-looking man over there¡ªum, I believe your name was Kujou¡ªdo something to surprise me.¡±


    ¡°Wh-who are you calling foolish?! Besides, I wouldn¡¯t be able to think of anything¡­.¡±


    ¡°For example¡­¡± Her face turned serious, and she got up and strode over to him, stopping uncomfortably close. Kazuya shrank away from her¡ªhe was starting to get a bad feeling about this.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you stick your head between your legs and give me a big grin, while balancing a pole on your belly with a plate spinning on it?¡±


    ¡°¡­I can¡¯t do something like that!¡±


    ¡°Why not? You¡¯re Oriental, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Th-th-that, that¡¯s prejudiced!¡±


    Kazuya leapt to his feet, now feeling genuinely angry. He knew that Victorique was a member of the aristocracy in Sauvure, a country known as ¡°the little giant of Western Europe.¡± But he was still the third son of an imperial soldier, and he was determined to strongly object against such affronts. His expression hardening, he said, ¡°Now look here, Victorique¡ª¡±


    ¡°¡­Hold on. What did that ghost say to you when you were in the storehouse with C¨¦cile?¡±


    This punctured Kazuya¡¯s momentary bravado, and he had to give up on what he had planned to say. ¡°¡­Um, I believe it was, ¡®save me¡¯.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s serious, then. Perhaps you should go save her.¡±


    ¡°Save the ghost?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a slow one, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Once again, Kazuya boiled over with rage. But Victorique merely parted her glossy, cherry-red lips unconcernedly, and said, ¡°That¡¯s not a ghost in the storehouse. That¡¯s a girl. I think you said she had short blond hair and blue eyes? Now that¡¯s really serious!¡±


    ¡°Wh-why?¡±


    ¡°Gr¨¦ville is still on campus, right? If he is, then go take him to the storehouse with you. You wouldn¡¯t know it from his funny hairstyle, but he still has police authority. Now, authority and the like may be nothing more than the excreta of civilization, but sometimes such things do come in handy.¡±


    Kazuya was bewildered. ¡°I don¡¯t really mind¡­. But what do you want us to do there?¡±


    Victorique opened her small hands and flapped them in an expression of disapproval. Then she said, with a look of dismay, ¡°Do you still not understand? You are going to rescue that girl you saw with short blond hair and blue eyes. She is being held captive.¡±


    ¡°¡­Who is she?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s Avril Bradley. Now go immediately; there¡¯s no time to waste. We¡¯ll have to postpone sticking your head between your legs for another occasion. Go at once.¡±


    *****


    Kazuya descended the stairs, shaking his head to himself. He was still completely in the dark when it came to following Victorique¡¯s train of thought.


    ¡°¡­Huh?¡±


    Now the very topic of the previous discussion appeared herself, running quickly up the maze of stairs. For some reason, she was holding a large suitcase in one hand, but judging from how easily she carried it, it seemed to be completely empty.


    ¡°Avril¡­¡±


    She looked up at the sound of his voice.


    ¡°What happened? What¡¯s that suitcase for?¡±


    ¡°I found a doll made by the famous dollmaker Grafenstein¡ªwait, you know what, never mind. I¡¯m in a hurry here. ¡­S-so what are you doing here, Kujou?¡±


    Kazuya carefully stepped around Avril as they passed the same point on the narrow staircase. ¡°I was chatting with Victorique. Now she¡¯s kind of ordered me to go do something for her, you see¡­.¡±


    ¡°¡­Victorique?¡± Avril watched Kazuya hurry down the stairs, a mystified look entering her eyes. ¡°Kujou¡­¡± she whispered softly. ¡°I wonder if he was being serious¡­? It¡¯s not like there¡¯s an actual human girl in the conservatory. There¡¯s only that doll¡­ The one with the evil spirit sealed inside of it, after that dollmaker made a deal with the devil. Is Kujou actually taking orders from it? What¡¯s going on¡­?¡±


    Shaking her head, Avril once again began to climb the labyrinthine stairs, empty suitcase in hand.

 Volume 1 - CH 4.2

    [2]


    Kazuya left the library and began running across campus in search of Inspector de Blois. Along the way, he ran into several teachers, and to each one he described the inspector¡¯s peculiar hairstyle¡ªhis blond hair hardened and twisted into a point, like the tip of a drill. One teacher told him, ¡°If you¡¯re talking about that odd-looking man, he went that way.¡±


    Kazuya set off running in the direction to which she pointed.


    Soon enough, he located the inspector. The vibrant rays of the setting sun, fast approaching nightfall, glistened upon his golden drill. Kazuya explained to him that Victorique had instructed him to go to the storehouse, although he wasn¡¯t exactly sure why.


    Inspector de Blois frowned. ¡°I¡¯m not familiar with this ¡®Victorique¡¯ of whom you speak, but I¡¯m willing to go take a look.¡±


    ¡°Inspector!¡±


    ¡°¡­Don¡¯t make such a terrifying face, Kujou,¡± the inspector said, hurriedly moving in front of Kazuya as the two of them continued to head toward the storehouse.


    *****


    Inside the damp and gloomy storehouse, dusty tables, chairs, and tarnished mirrors were strewn about in disarray.


    The inspector took a timid step inside. ¡°Kujou, from what I understand, this place is haunted, is it not?¡±


    ¡°Yes. By the ghost of Millie Marle. At least according to rumor.¡±


    ¡°Then you and that C¨¦cile woman saw something, too?¡±


    ¡°¡­Are you implying that you¡¯re scared?¡±


    Inspector de Blois swung his head over his shoulder. The tip of his drill nearly stabbed Kazuya¡¯s forehead, forcing him to hastily duck.


    ¡°I¡¯m not scared!¡±


    ¡°¡­But Miss C¨¦cile said that the ghost we saw wasn¡¯t Millie. She looked like someone else.¡±


    ¡°Then who was it?¡±


    ¡°Beats me. It¡¯s just that, when I told Victorique about it, she said it was Avril Bradley, and that I¡¯m supposed to go rescue her. But I didn¡¯t know what she meant. I mean, Avril is alive and well; I even just bumped into her on the staircase of the library earlier¡­.¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­¡±


    They exchanged a look, simultaneously cocking their heads in bafflement.


    ¡°Even I, great inspector that I am, have no idea.¡±


    ¡°No surprise there.¡±


    ¡°¡­Hmph!¡±


    After a moment of exchanging glares with each other, they went back to making their hesitant entry into the storehouse.


    At the very back of the room¡­


    Someone was lying on the floor.


    The inspector uttered a short screech. Kazuya rushed to his side, then realized that on the floor was a girl about the same age as he. ¡°Are you¡­?!¡±


    Her eyes were closed.


    The ghost we saw earlier must actually be this girl. I had a feeling that it wasn¡¯t a ghost, but a person¡­.


    Helping her up, Kazuya peered into her face, then gasped.


    She¡¯s really cute!


    The girl¡¯s facial features were finely proportioned, with a straight nose and a mature air to her face, which was framed by short blond hair. Long athletic limbs extended from the simple white dress that clothed her lithe and slim body, reminiscent of a young doe. But her skin and clothes were soiled, her hands and feet were bound, and a partially unwound gag was wrapped around her mouth.


    ¡°Can you hear me?!¡± Kazuya quickly removed the gag from her mouth and untied her limbs. As he gazed into her face, her eyes suddenly opened.


    ¡­Her eyes were blue and limpid, like the sky on a clear summer¡¯s day.


    Tears immediately welled up and spilled from their corners. She reached toward Kazuya and clung to him. ¡°Save me!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re saved! It¡¯s going to be all right now. There¡¯s a policeman here, too. But ¡­ who are you? Why are you being held prisoner in a place like this? Who did this to you?¡±


    The face of the girl with the large blue eyes contorted in fear. ¡°I¡¯m the real Avril Bradley!¡± she cried out.


    Kazuya gasped. ¡°You¡¯re the real Avril¡­?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡±


    ¡°Then, that other Avril is a fake¡­.¡±


    Kazuya remembered the unease he sometimes felt around the other Avril. While she usually behaved like any innocent and cheerful young girl, sometimes her demeanor would abruptly shift, turning very cold. Moreover, there were occasions when he thought she looked much older than she should have been.


    He guessed that those times when she acted innocently and cheerfully were in imitation of the real Avril¡­


    And Victorique had said that this impostor of Avril was also the second Cuiaran.


    ¡°¡­Hold on a minute. That would mean¡­¡± Kazuya jumped up, remembering where the fake Avril¡ªthe second Cuiaran¡ªwas this very moment.


    ¡°At the library! V-Victorique!?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    Kazuya handed Avril to the inspector, then dashed out of the storehouse. The inspector called after him in alarm. ¡°Kujou?!¡±


    ¡°The second Cuiaran went to the library. I don¡¯t know what she¡¯s trying to do¡­ But that¡¯s where Victorique is! A little girl, all by herself¡­¡±


    Kazuya ran down the gravel path.

 Volume 1 - CH 4.3

    [3]


    At that very moment, Avril Bradley¡ªno, the girl who was the second Cuiaran¡ªwas running up the labyrinthine staircase in the library, empty suitcase in hand, panting raggedly. But no matter how high she climbed, the top floor felt farther than ever.


    At last, she reached the top of the staircase, and leaned against the thin handrail incised with a leaf motif, her shoulders rising and falling as she wheezed for air.


    ¡°Wh-where¡¯s that doll¡­?¡±


    Cuiaran stumbled around the conservatory in search of the gorgeously-clothed porcelain doll that she had hidden behind a small chest. Once she realized that it was nowhere to be found, she gulped.


    She set down the suitcase and scanned the vicinity.


    She searched.


    And searched some more.


    And kept searching¡­


    ¡°¡­H-how is that possible?!¡±


    Finally, she located the porcelain doll. But it was slumped down in the shade of one of the conservatory¡¯s many lush tropical trees, as if someone had hidden it there. Only its long blond hair peeped out from behind the luxuriant foliage. Cuiaran roughly grabbed the doll by the hair and wrapped her hands around the thin torso.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be damned! How did you end up in a place like this? Don¡¯t tell me Kujou moved you? Or ¡­ did a doll try to hide from me on its own¡­? How ridiculous¡­.¡±


    Cuiaran burst out laughing at her own words.


    She opened the suitcase and savagely threw the doll inside.


    Just then¡­


    The sound of someone flinging open the door to the library echoed from the world far below. Cuiaran shut the suitcase and walked over to the railing to look down at the first floor.


    There she caught sight of Kazuya Kujou rushing inside. Sucking her teeth in annoyance, Cuiaran picked up the suitcase and began to run downstairs.


    *****


    ¡°¡­Victorique!?¡± yelled Kazuya, starting to run up the staircase. He looked up at the distant top of the maze of stairs and saw a girl with a stony look on her face running downward.


    He halted, and the girl did the same.


    Her eyes were so very cold¡­.


    But then the girl smiled, and it was as if she had transformed into an entirely different person. ¡°Well, if it isn¡¯t Ku¡ª¡±


    ¡°Cuiaran!¡±


    At the sound of Kazuya¡¯s shout, the girl¡¯s face instantly froze. Then she shifted back to her previous expression, her eyes glinting with a hard light. ¡°¡­You figured it out, huh?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen through you. We¡¯ve already rescued the real Avril.¡±


    ¡°Tch!¡± Avril¡ªno, the second Cuiaran¡ªsuddenly began to speak in an entirely different tone of voice, betraying a brash city accent. ¡°That¡¯s right. I¡¯m the second Cuiaran. I was taken in as a child and raised as a thief. But the first Cuiaran disappeared suddenly eight years ago. Rumor had it that he hid his loot somewhere in this school, so I came to take a look. ¡­I don¡¯t suppose you know who the first one was, right?¡±


    ¡°You mean Maxim?¡± answered Kazuya.


    Cuiaran blinked in surprise. ¡°¡­That¡¯s right. I never expected to see him come tumbling out of the crypt as that mummified knight. But then I found that purple book on the floor. That was one of his treasures that he hid inside this school when he came on his springtime visits. He stole it from that explorer Sir Bradley, who was going to give it to his granddaughter as her inheritance. Once I figured that out, I made sure to hide it somewhere. But then you¡­ Where did you hide it?¡±


    ¡°Wait¡­ So that means you were the one who attacked me from behind and stole that book?¡±


    ¡°Of course it was me. But all you had was the book.¡±


    Kazuya didn¡¯t follow. ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°What happened to the Penny Black?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    Cuiaran glared at him. ¡°I couldn¡¯t care less about that book, so I threw it away in the flower garden. What I¡¯m looking for is the Penny Black. Oh, damn you¡­. You know the postcard inside that book? That was Sir Bradley¡¯s legacy.¡±


    Kazuya shouted in surprise. He remembered the way Victorique suddenly lost interest in the book after they had found it, and had simply vanished into thin air, taking along the postcard that had been used as a bookmark. But at the time, he had no idea why she had done that¡­.


    ¡°Then it¡¯s not the book, but the postcard¡­?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right. Where is it?¡± Cuiaran descended several steps down the stairs.


    ¡°If you mean the postcard, Victorique took it with¡ª¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about? There isn¡¯t any girl in the conservatory.¡±


    They stared at one another, each positioned at one end of the staircase. Kazuya looked up at Cuiaran, dumbfounded.


    ¡°I went to the top floor twice. But the conservatory was empty both times. You keep insisting there¡¯s a girl there, but there isn¡¯t one,¡± she snapped.


    ¡°Wh-what¡­?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s dusty and gloomy, and there¡¯s no one there. The conservatory has been empty for a very, very long time. You must have seen a fairy. Didn¡¯t I tell you? ¡®A golden fairy inhabits the top of the library.¡¯ You are a foreign student from the Far East who found no classmates willing to be your friend, and so you spend all your time studying out of stubbornness. ¡®Fairies make friends with lonely children, then steal their souls.¡¯ ¡­We have that legend in my hometown, too.¡± Cuiaran stared down at Kazuya. ¡°That girl doesn¡¯t exist!¡±


    Her words deeply wounded him.


    There was some truth to what she said. In the past half year since he had arrived, he couldn¡¯t fit in with his aristocratic classmates, and hadn¡¯t made any new friends. For this reason, even though he was duty-bound as the third son of an imperial soldier to suppress any unmanly feelings that welled up inside himself, the truth was that he secretly felt very happy when he met Victorique. She may have been eccentric, and there were times he couldn¡¯t quite understand her, and even felt angry with her. But she was still his dear friend, the first one he had made since coming to Sauvure.


    And there was no way she didn¡¯t exist.


    ¡°Th-that¡¯s impossible!¡±


    Cuiaran sneered at his hurt expression. ¡°Still can¡¯t accept it?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re wrong¡­.¡±


    ¡°Hmph. Then I guess I¡¯ll have to show you who your friend really is.¡±


    With a cold-blooded smile on her face, Cuiaran slowly raised the suitcase. Kazuya stood looking up at her, motionless in shock.


    When she opened the lid¡­.


    He heard a rustling sound.


    Long blond hair spilled out of the suitcase.


    The hem of a sumptuous dress peeked out of a corner.


    Two frozen glass eyes stared open, unblinking.


    ¡°Vi¡­?¡±


    Cuiaran violently flung open the suitcase. A small girl tumbled out from it, falling down toward Kazuya. He frantically reached out to catch her, but her dress made of gorgeously-embroidered Gobelins tapestry, and the lace bonnet that adorned her silken blond hair, slipped through his fingers, plummeting to the distant bottom of the atrium below.


    Kazuya ran to the side of the staircase and screamed.


    At that moment, two deputies, clad in rabbit-skin hunting caps and holding each other¡¯s hands, entered the library in pursuit of Kazuya. Looking up, they found something falling toward them. They hastily raised their linked hands to grab hold of the girl¡ªno, the doll in the form of a girl, and managed to catch it lightly in mid-air.


    Kazuya stared down at them in mute shock.


    ¡°¡­Whoa! A doll fell on us! It almost broke. Oh no, the head fell off!¡± shouted the two deputies.


    Kazuya looked up at Cuiaran dazedly. Her face was contorted into a fearsome expression. ¡°Do you get it now? There was never a girl in the conservatory. But I did find that doll. It¡¯s the work of the 19th century German dollmaker Grafenstein. They say he made a deal with the devil so he could give his dolls souls. His creations became monsters possessed by evil spirits, and there are rumors of them wandering around at night. ¡­Now, Kujou.¡± Cuiaran threw away the suitcase and advanced upon Kazuya.


    He was still stunned.


    Victorique¡­ doesn¡¯t exist¡­? That can¡¯t be¡­.


    He heard the suitcase shatter upon the ground floor far below him.


    It¡¯s not true. Victorique ¡­ is real!


    Cuiaran grabbed Kazuya by his neck and squeezed with tremendous force. ¡°Come on, where did you really hide it? Where did you hide the Penny Black? Give it back! Give it back!¡±


    ¡°I, I don¡¯t know ¡­ where¡­¡±


    ¡°If you don¡¯t have it, someone else does. Give it back to me!¡±


    Kazuya struggled with Cuiaran in the middle of the labyrinthine staircase. The wooden stairs creaked and swayed unsteadily.


    And then¡­


    Something small and golden appeared in Kazuya¡¯s line of sight.


    He narrowed his eyes, trying to make it out.


    Far away, near the distant ceiling, the face of a girl peered out from between slats of railing. Her green eyes shone with an ominous light, and her splendidly long blond hair seemed to ripple and dance in anger, as if it possessed a will of its own.


    ¡­It was Victorique.


    She parted her cherry-red lips, and said in a low voice, as husky as that of an old woman, ¡°Kujou doesn¡¯t have it ¡­ but I do.¡±


    Cuiaran squeaked in surprise. Then, lifting her gaze, she slowly turned around, and saw Victorique standing at the top of the staircase, straining to hold up a heavy stack of books with her small hands.


    ¡°Get your hands off Kujou!¡±


    The books fell.


    As Cuiaran stared at her with wide eyes, the books collapsed upon her head with a dull thud. She rolled down the staircase, arms akimbo, with the covers of the books still stuck to her face.


    Then Victorique went on to say something unforgivable. ¡°For that man is my servant.¡±


    Normally, Kazuya would never have let such a remark pass without raising a firm and lengthy objection in defense of his honor as the third son of an imperial soldier. But this time he didn¡¯t quite catch what she had said, and so his words were brief. ¡°Victorique¡­ I knew you existed!¡±


    ¡°How rude.¡± Victorique gave a snort of indignation. And then she slowly moved out of sight, her blond hair vanishing a moment later, writhing like the tail of a dinosaur as it trailed behind her body, engulfed in frills and lace.


    Only her husky voice lingered in Kazuya¡¯s ears.


    ¡°¡­Of course I exist!¡±

 Volume 1 - CH 4.4

    [4]


    The second Cuiaran tumbled uncontrollably down the wooden staircase. Inspector de Blois entered the library and arrested her, then carried her off to the village police station with the help of the two hand-holding deputies.


    Breathing a sigh of relief, Kazuya slowly trudged up the stairs. At last, he reached the conservatory at the very top floor, and surveyed the scene before him.


    Victorique was sitting in the position that he had become thoroughly used to over the course of the past several days¡ªseated upon the floor and smoking her pipe as she turned the pages of the books that encircled her, radiating out in all directions.


    She heard Kazuya approach her, but didn¡¯t bother to raise her gaze from her books. Instead, she simply removed the pipe from her lips and said, ¡°You¡¯re late.¡±


    Her face wore the same cool expression he had beheld the day he first met her, that aloof arrogance universal among this country¡¯s aristocrats. The mere sight of it inflamed the stubbornness in his heart.


    But for once, Kazuya didn¡¯t let that bother him. He bent down to sit beside Victorique. ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean? That just as usual, you¡¯re the only one who knows everything?¡±


    ¡°Of course, thanks to my wellspring of wisdom.¡± Victorique sighed wearily, then added grudgingly, ¡°I take fragments of chaos from within this world and toy with them to pass the time. Once they¡¯re collected, I reconstruct those fragments by means of my wellspring of wisdom¡­. Then a long, maddening tedium comes upon me once again, and I¡¯m left feeling empty inside.¡±


    ¡°¡­Well, before you get bored again, explain it to me first.¡±


    ¡°So, you want me to articulate it for you.¡± Victorique yawned heavily. ¡°But it¡¯s such a bother.¡±


    She silently watched Kazuya, who was waiting impatiently. Then she let out a small groan, and reluctantly began to speak again. ¡°Very well. I shall explain, and then perhaps even a mediocre person like you may understand.¡±


    *****


    Warm, bright sunlight shone into the conservatory. A spring breeze entered through the skylights, gently ruffling the hair of the two young people sitting in the sun.


    Victorique pulled out the postcard that had been sandwiched inside the purple book. The postcard was addressed to Avril from her grandfather Sir Bradley, but had never been mailed.


    ¡°Penny Black is the name of a stamp. It¡¯s the oldest stamp in the world. That alone would make it valuable, but there were also a handful with printing errors, and those have even greater value. One of those stamps is affixed to this postcard.¡±


    ¡°Wow¡­¡± Kazuya took the postcard and carefully inspected the stamp.


    ¡°Collectors would throw away huge sums of money to acquire such a rare item. But the first Cuiaran stole this heirloom, which Sir Bradley had meant to pass down to his granddaughter, and he placed it inside this purple book, which he then brought to this school. And then it accompanied him into his eternal rest inside the crypt.¡±


    ¡°I see. But Victorique, how did you know that the girl I saw in the storehouse was the real Avril, kidnapped by Cuiaran?¡±


    ¡°That girl was likely used by the second Cuiaran as a way for her to infiltrate the school. She imprisoned her inside that storehouse and impersonated her so that she could search for the loot hidden by the first Cuiaran. And the reason she chose the storehouse as Avril¡¯s place of confinement was the same reason that she hid the purple book inside the library.¡±


    Victorique took a drag from her pipe. ¡°Recall how the second Cuiaran hid that book next to the thirteenth step of the library¡¯s staircase. She was taking advantage of the ghost stories that infest this school. ¡®An ill fate befalls those who tread on the thirteenth step of the stairs.¡¯ That was why all of the students avoided the thirteenth step, and that was why she hid the book there.¡±


    ¡°Okay¡­¡±


    ¡°The reason she hid the real Avril inside that storehouse was also because of a ghost story, the one about Millie Marle¡¯s ghost haunting the abandoned storehouse. So no one dared go near that building. ¡­But no one ever could have expected that a strange fellow like you would pass by.¡±


    Kazuya nodded, impressed by her deductions.


    After this, Victorique proceeded to smoke her pipe and ignore him for a few moments. Then she suddenly looked up at him.


    ¡°Wh-what?¡±


    ¡°Here¡¯s a little something extra. I¡¯ll articulate another fact for you.¡± Her green eyes gleamed with an uncanny light. ¡°About that ghost story which has caused you so much grief, ¡®the traveler who comes in spring brings death to the school.¡¯ The ¡®reaper¡¯ here was a reference to Maxim. You recall how Maxim, the first Cuiaran, came back to the school every spring? Of course, he came to hide his ill-gotten gains, but he also happened to be a sinister man in general. It¡¯s possible that a dead body appeared each time he returned, and that Millie Marle may not have been the only one. That sinister image of the ¡®reaper who comes in spring¡¯ may have been modeled on the first Cuiaran. At least, that¡¯s what I think.¡±


    Kazuya stared at Victorique¡¯s cold face in mute amazement.


    He imagined fragments of chaos dancing in the air, then crashing to the ground as she reconstructed them with a mere glance¡ªas if her eyes were focused on some strange magic.


    Kazuya made a sound of awe. ¡°Victorique, you¡¯re incredible.¡±


    Her facial expression shifted slightly, looking almost exultant. In that moment of barely perceptible change, her ennui, despair, and the peculiar sort of darkness that had shrouded her face for so long, seemed to finally lift and disappear.


    *****


    ¡°So that means¡­¡± After a few moments of silence, Kazuya spoke again. Victorique raised her eyebrows questioningly.


    ¡°I guess you do exist, huh¡­¡±


    Victorique looked up, peering at him suspiciously. ¡°Not that again. Of course I exist.¡±


    ¡°B-but¡­¡± murmured Kazuya. ¡°That second Cuiaran came to the conservatory twice, and said you weren¡¯t here either time. She said it was dark and there was nobody around.¡±


    Victorique was silent for a moment.


    A thin white line of smoke rose straight to the ceiling, followed by a clear spring breeze that blew briskly through the conservatory.


    ¡°¡­I didn¡¯t know her,¡± Victorique whispered suddenly.


    ¡°Come again?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know her, so I hid.¡±


    ¡°You hid? Wh-where?¡±


    Exasperation written all over her face, Victorique looked up from her books and pointed at a small chest nearby.


    Kazuya stared at the chest in bewilderment.


    It was a rectangular box that didn¡¯t appear large enough to admit a person. But if someone as small as Victorique crouched into a ball, she may have been able to fit inside somehow¡­.


    Kazuya carefully reached out his hand and opened the door to the chest.


    His expression turned to a look of amazement.


    Inside the chest was a lamp, some sweets, and some books. The door was designed so that it could be locked from the inside.


    ¡°¡­Were you in here?¡±


    ¡°¡­.¡±


    ¡°Do you always hide in here when strangers come by?¡±


    Victorique said nothing.


    I wonder if she¡¯s actually extremely shy? Understanding dawned on Kazuya. But then a thought suddenly crossed his mind. Wait a minute. What about when¡­


    As Victorique ignored him, busying herself with her books, he asked, ¡°But when I came up here for the first time, you didn¡¯t know who I was either, right?¡±


    ¡°¡­Mmm.¡±


    ¡°And yet you were sitting right here reading your books, just as calmly as ever. And you were the one who spoke first, remember? Oh, Victorique, I remember what you said to me. ¡®It wasn¡¯t enough that you were late to class, but on top of that, you¡¯ve decided to come play truant in the library?¡¯¡±


    ¡°¡­Mm.¡±


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you hide from me?¡±


    Victorique didn¡¯t reply.


    Kazuya waited a while, then gave up with a sigh. ¡°Well, not that it matters any¡­¡± Then he took a glance at her. Hold on¡­?


    Victorique¡¯s face was cold and expressionless as usual, but for some reason, her ears were bright red.


    Oh¡­? Kazuya cocked his head. ¡°What happened to your ears?¡±


    ¡°My ears¡­?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re red.¡±


    ¡°¡­No, they¡¯re not.¡±


    ¡°Yes, they are.¡±


    ¡°¡­No, they¡¯re not.¡±


    ¡°But¡ª¡±


    ¡°If I say they¡¯re not red, then they¡¯re not red!¡±


    Victorique lifted up her book and slammed the corner into the side of Kazuya¡¯s head. With this, he decided to stop saying things that would provoke her, even if he didn¡¯t know why exactly she found them so disagreeable.


    A gust of springtime air blew between them, delicately rustling Victorique¡¯s blond hair.


    What if¡­ Kazuya thought to himself. I thought that I had brought her those exotic snacks, and had climbed that labyrinthine staircase, and had asked for Victorique¡¯s help out of my own free will, but¡­


    The wind blew once more.


    What if I was the one chosen by Victorique?


    The sky began to darken.


    Surely Victorique was calling out to me. And that¡¯s how we became friends¡­


    Kazuya felt somehow greatly honored by this.

 Volume 1 - CH 4.5

    [5]


    Kazuya slowly walked out of the library and headed down the white pebbled road. In the distance, he heard someone yell, ¡°Hey, Kujou!¡±


    The voice belonged to Inspector de Blois. Kazuya looked up to find him standing in another one of his poses.


    ¡°The case may have been solved thanks to my hard work, but there¡¯s still much to be done. Apparently, most of Cuiaran¡¯s loot is still slumbering somewhere on campus. It¡¯s been quite the headache to locate all of it!¡±


    ¡°I see¡­.¡± Kazuya¡¯s attention was drawn to the object that the inspector was holding under his arm. When he recognized it, he frowned. ¡°Um¡­ Why are you carrying around that doll?¡±


    ¡°Oh, this?¡± The inspector cradled the doll gently in his arms, then said boastfully, ¡°Isn¡¯t she a beauty? She was crafted by Grafenstein, the genius dollmaker.¡±


    ¡°¡­Huh.¡±


    ¡°One of his dolls alone is worth more than a house, you know.¡±


    ¡°¡­.?¡±


    ¡°I had forgotten where I put it, and I was looking for it all over. It¡¯s a good thing I found it, my boy.¡±


    Kazuya gave a start, remembering how he had seen the inspector looking for something earlier. Then he said in exasperation, ¡°So that was your doll? For God¡¯s sake! A major misunderstanding happened because of that doll! It really had me ¡­ worried sick¡­.¡±


    The inspector was taken aback at the sight of Kazuya¡¯s anger. Then a loud cracking sound came suddenly from the porcelain doll¡¯s neck, prompting the inspector to emit an earsplitting shriek. ¡°Aaah! The head¡¯s falling off!¡±


    ¡°Well, it was handled a little roughly earlier¡­¡±


    ¡°D-did you do that?¡±


    ¡°Cuiaran dropped it.¡±


    ¡°Th-that damned thief¡­!¡± the inspector growled, trembling in rage. Kazuya walked away from him.


    *****


    Kazuya shyly peeked into the infirmary. ¡°Avril? Avril¡­? Oh, there you are.¡±


    Miss C¨¦cile was seated next to an elderly doctor who had arrived from the village. As Kazuya entered the room, they both turned around to look at him. The real Avril, who had been rescued from the storehouse just a short while earlier, was sitting up in bed, munching away at a mouthful of food. She looked famished.


    Avril looked up at the sound of Kazuya¡¯s voice, and beamed at him cheerfully. ¡°Are you Kujou? Miss C¨¦cile told me your name. Thank you for rescuing me earlier.¡±


    ¡°Uh, not at all¡­¡± Kazuya felt slightly charmed by the sight of her vivacious, carefree smile.


    Avril continued to speak while chewing. ¡°So, what happened is that after I crossed over from England and got on the train to Sauvure, I started chatting with this woman who was sitting in the same compartment, and I told her all sorts of things about myself. Like my name, how old I was, and that I was going to study abroad at St. Marguerite¡¯s School. I also talked about my memories of my grandpa¡­.¡±


    ¡°Oh. So then she¡­?¡±


    ¡°Exactly! So I ended up telling her about my family¡¯s stolen heirloom. That my dear grandfather, the explorer Sir Bradley, had left it to me as my inheritance, and how I had hoped to use that to become a woman explorer someday, but then it was stolen by the great thief Cuiaran¡­. I also mentioned about hearing a rumor that Cuiaran had hidden it somewhere on the campus of St. Marguerite¡¯s School, and that I decided to come here to study so I could look for it¡­. But, but¡­¡± Avril¡¯s cheeks puffed out in frustration.


    ¡°But that woman turned out to be the second Cuiaran herself. And she had been looking for the loot hidden by the first Cuiaran. She came with me to the school, and held me captive inside the storehouse. And then she got inside the school as a student, pretending to be me.¡±


    Avril¡¯s mood suddenly turned upbeat, and she added gamely, ¡°But I bit her right on the fingers of her right hand. And that got her so mad at me that she tied me up¡­.¡±


    Kazuya recalled Cuiaran¡¯s injured fingers. So that was from Avril biting her¡­. This girl must be pretty tough.


    Avril looked up at Kazuya with a sunny smile. ¡°I felt so low the whole time. So when you came to rescue me, I thought you were my black-haired prince. Ha, ha, ha!¡±


    ¡°Ha, ha, ha!¡± Miss C¨¦cile joined in her laughter. ¡°Kujou, a prince! Ha, ha, ha!¡±


    ¡°¡­Miss C¨¦cile, it isn¡¯t that funny,¡± said Kazuya crossly.


    She quieted down, but then¡ª¡°Hee-hee!¡±¡ªburst into another guffaw.


    Kazuya sucked on his teeth in annoyance and sulked for a moment. Then he pulled out the postcard that Victorique had given him¡ªthe postcard affixed with the Penny Black¡ªand handed it to Avril.


    Avril stared at it for a minute, dumbfounded, before flinging away her half-eaten sandwich. Miss C¨¦cile made a startled squeak and reached out to catch the flying sandwich in mid-air.


    Avril reverently took the postcard from Kazuya, tears filling her eyes. ¡°Grandpa!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m happy for you. It¡¯s back safe in your hands.¡±


    ¡°Y-yeah!¡±


    A message from the explorer Sir Bradley to his granddaughter was written on the postcard.I am giving this to you in hopes that you¡¯ll become a splendid woman explorer when you grow up someday. Use this to cover the cost of your expeditions. Soon your grandpa will cross the Atlantic in a hot air balloon. I¡¯ll see you again when I come back!


    Avril broke down sobbing. Through her tears, she still managed to flash a bright smile at Kazuya. ¡°Thank you, Kujou.¡±


    ¡°Not at all¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve only just arrived here, so there¡¯s lots I still don¡¯t know about this place. I hope you¡¯ll be my guide.¡±


    ¡°O-okay¡­¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s be friends, Kujou.¡±


    ¡°Sure, but¡­¡± Kazuya had no problem with being asked to befriend a cute girl, but he couldn¡¯t help but feel slightly apprehensive. After all, thanks to the ghost stories circulating around campus, he was the man labeled as the infamous ¡°reaper who comes in spring¡±. Once Avril found out, she might start to feel afraid of him, too¡­.


    But then again, Avril is a foreign student, and unlike the other students here, she may not even be interested in ghost stories at all¡­.


    Kazuya collected himself, and decided to pose a question to her. ¡°By the way, Avril. Do you like ghost stories?¡±


    She answered cheerily, and without the slightest hesitation. ¡°I love them!¡±


    ¡°Is that right¡­¡± Kazuya hung his head.


    *****


    In the small, affluent Western European nation of Sauvure, a foreign student, Kazuya Kujou, came from a certain country in the Orient to St. Marguerite¡¯s School, a distinguished academy soaring high up in the Alps. There he met the beautiful young girl Victorique, the mysterious challenger to chaos who spent her days secluded in the library tower.


    And now the adventurer¡¯s granddaughter, Avril Bradley, had also arrived¡­


    Later on, they would be entangled into the sinister phenomena revolving around an accursed serial poisoning countess and the loot left behind by the great thief Cuiaran, and they would end up turning the school upside down.


    But that was, once again, an entirely different story¡­.

 Volume 1 - CH 5.1

    chapter five ¡ª the headless lady comes at three in the morning


    [1]


    It was another bright and sunny morning at St. Marguerite¡¯s School.


    The hallways, normally filled with running students clutching their textbooks after having piled out of the dormitory en masse, were now empty on this Sunday morning, and quiet enough to hear a pin drop.


    A petite woman emerged from an atrium lined with unglazed copper-colored tiles on the floor, and strode purposefully into a corridor that was enclosed by a high ceiling trussed with innumerable beams. She wore large round glasses and wavy brunette hair down to her shoulders, and looked remarkably baby-faced on account of her large, moist eyes. This woman¡ªMiss C¨¦cile¡ªgrumbled to herself, a large loop of keys gripped in her hand.


    ¡°If I recall correctly, the answer key to that textbook was in the reading room¡­. My goodness, Kujou, you keep asking questions that no teacher would know the answer to. I hope you don¡¯t think that being a teacher means I know everything¡­ when that¡¯s not even possible! So keep in mind, Kujou¡­.¡±


    She continued talking to herself, her voice echoing in the empty hallway at a slightly louder volume than it needed to be. ¡°¡ªThat when I was a student here, my grades were awful, just awful compared to yours, OK? Got that? ¡­Wait, this isn¡¯t exactly something I should be boasting about¡­.¡±


    Her shoulders slumping, she walked up to the door of the room in question, inserted a large key into the lock, and turned it. ¡°Oops, the lock is rusty. Well, I shouldn¡¯t be surprised; it¡¯s been such a long time since anyone¡¯s gone inside that people started calling it the ¡®Sealed Reading Room¡¯¡­.¡±


    C¨¦cile opened the huge door, which was the deep brown color of laurelwood. A dusty, damp smell wafted into the hallway from the interior of the reading room. Inside was an oval tea table and bookshelves overlaid with glass doors. She hurried inside. ¡°I need to find that answer key to prepare for Monday¡¯s lesson¡ªright, this one. Okay¡­¡±


    She quickly walked back to the door, hugging a thin book to her chest. But then she suddenly raised her head and looked up at the wall.


    C¨¦cile tightly closed her large eyes.


    And then she opened them again.


    As she stared at the wall, tears began welling up in her eyes.


    Then she tremblingly closed them once more¡­.


    And then¡­


    ¡°It¡¯s, it¡¯s ¡­ a ghost!¡±


    Screaming at the top of her lungs, she tore off her glasses and dashed out of the room as fast as she could.


    *****


    Meanwhile, in another hallway on the other side of the U-shaped main building¡­.


    ¡°All right¡­ So over there is the bathroom where the spirit of the Sphinx appears and asks a riddle. And where was that ghost of the dead Indian elephant that was brought to Sauvure for an exhibition¡­? And then¡­¡±


    The girl, dressed neatly in her uniform, had been walking around campus peering into her notebook all Sunday morning. She was a lively young lady with short blond hair, bright blue eyes, and long, lithe limbs reminiscent of a young doe.


    The girl¡ªthe foreign student Avril Bradley¡ªcame to a stop.


    ¡°Hmm¡­ I knew it was going to be difficult to find my way around with just a map. So I still don¡¯t feel too familiar with the campus. But since I won¡¯t be starting classes until next week, I haven¡¯t made any friends yet. ¡­Oh, I know!¡± She clapped her hands together.


    ¡°There¡¯s Kujou, that Oriental boy who rescued me from the storehouse. Let me think¡­. Where could I find him? It would be nice if he could show me around campus, but it¡¯s not like I can go in the boys¡¯ dormi¡ªwhoa!¡±


    The floor suddenly seemed to shift underneath Avril¡¯s feet, causing her to fall hard on her bottom. ¡°Oww!¡± she groaned while looking down to see where she had tripped.


    Her foot was caught in a gap where the flooring had moved out of place. She removed her foot and eyed the hole suspiciously.


    There was something inside.


    She saw the faint sheen of a gleaming purple object.


    Despite not knowing what awaited her in the darkness, Avril¡ªperhaps bravely, perhaps recklessly, but either way without a moment¡¯s hesitation¡ªthrust her hand into the hole. She grabbed hold of the purple object, and held it up to the light.


    Clasped in her hand was a large necklace. It was beautifully arrayed with glittering purple jewels, and yet it also seemed somehow sinister. But Avril was heedless of the peculiarly weighty aura to that necklace, and she casually held it up to her face and examined it from every angle, her large eyes open wide.


    Then she suddenly cried out, ¡°Oh! Th-this is the same necklace that was in one of the best ghost stories of all, Countess Ashenden¡¯s ¡®Poison Flower¡¯!¡±


    She excitedly flipped through her notebook until she found the correct page, and then compared the description in her notes with the jewelry she held in her hand. ¡°I knew it! But why would it be here? Oh my gosh! Now what? Well, anyway ¡­ I just found something fantastic. Yahoo!¡±


    Avril stamped her feet on the ground, then happily exclaimed again, ¡°Yahoo, yahoo!¡±


    *****


    And meanwhile¡­


    In a quiet corner of the campus of St. Marguerite¡¯s School, in a room on the second floor of the boys¡¯ dormitory¡­


    ¡°Whoa! What time is it?! Did I oversleep? ¡­Oh, wait, it¡¯s a Sunday.¡±


    A young, small-boned Asian boy jolted awake in a large mahogany bed, decorated with a motif of intertwining leaves, and fumbled for his clock. Deep black eyes the color of ebony stared out from underneath his short black hair.


    ¡°¡­Well, even if it is a Sunday, the third son of an imperial soldier couldn¡¯t possibly allow himself to indulge in a single moment of indolence. I have to wake up immediately, wash my face, eat my breakfast, and then get to studying¡ªoh, but I¡¯m so sleepy. Wait, wait, I¡¯ve already been late once this week after getting dragged into that murder case. And then I jumped out of the window of the classroom, and that counts as an absence even though I did show up on time. So that¡¯s two demerits already. Let¡¯s wake up, then. ¡­But I¡¯m still so sleepy¡­.¡±


    The boy¡ªKazuya Kujou¡ªsat up sluggishly, his expression as serious as ever despite the sleepiness in his eyes. He tied together the front of the dark blue yukata he wore as a nightshirt, and just as he was about to climb out of bed to wash his face, heard a knock come from the door.


    ¡°Who is it?¡±


    ¡°¡­It¡¯s me!¡± A deep womanly voice answered in a singsong tone.


    Kazuya jumped up in surprise. While in the middle of groggily considering the fact that it was now too late for him to pretend he was out, he saw the door open on its own.


    ¡°Good mo-orning, Kujou!¡± The voluptuous redheaded housemother stood at the door. ¡°You know, there was this creepy guy with a weird hairstyle,¡± she began to say, but then broke off mid-sentence and gave Kazuya an intense stare.


    ¡°Wh-what¡¯s wrong?¡±


    ¡°That looks pretty. It¡¯s got a wonderfully Oriental flair! ¡­I¡¯ll take it!¡±


    ¡°Y-you¡¯ll take it?!¡±


    The housemother began to roughly yank off Kazuya¡¯s nightshirt. His struggling was for naught as his yukata slipped off his body and was snatched away along with his sash. Kazuya shrieked and dove under the covers of his bed while shouting at her in protest, ¡°That¡¯s my nightshirt!¡±


    ¡°Can I wear it to a dance party in the village tonight?¡±


    ¡°No, you may not! Please give it back!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll give it back to you later.¡± She grinned and waved her hand at him, then swiftly turned on her heel to leave his room.


    Just as she was about to close the door, Kazuya quickly asked her, ¡°Um, what was that you were saying about the creepy guy with the weird hairstyle?¡±


    ¡°Whaddya talking about? ¡­Oh, that.¡± She poked her head back into the room. ¡°Right now, there¡¯s this young fellow with pointy blond hair in this style that I can¡¯t even begin to describe, but only made me think what a waste of a handsome face, and he said he had a message for you. Hmm, what was it now. Uh ¡­ sorry, I forgot.¡±


    ¡°¡­.¡±


    ¡°I think he wanted you to go somewhere.¡±


    ¡°¡­You mean, to the library?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes! That¡¯s it!¡± The housemother nodded, then grinned and waved at him, and shut the door behind her.


    Kazuya sighed.


    He looked outside the window. The bright springtime sunlight shone in from the French-style window, scattering light upon the carpet. It was an idyllic Sunday morning.


    ¡°Okay ¡­ to the library, then.¡± Kazuya reluctantly climbed out of bed and started to unenthusiastically put on his clothes.


    He had placed a letter that he had received last night from his second eldest brother on the mahogany desk. Kazuya folded it up and tucked it into his breast pocket, then left his room.

 Volume 1 - CH 5.2

    [2]


    The stone-hewn walls of St. Marguerite¡¯s Library, draped with entwining grey ivies, stood in silence, observing the endless passage of time. On this Sunday morning, that four-sided tower, containing a huge book repository renowned throughout Europe, continued in relentless cultivation of a unique state of knowledge, time, and tranquility, just as it had for centuries.


    Kazuya opened the leather-covered swing door, hammered through with round brass tacks. The moment he stepped into the atrium, he was seized by the distinct feeling that every wall, completely occupied by bookshelves crammed full with antique books, had groaned in exasperation all at once, tired of his repeated visits. A thin, maze-like wooden staircase zigzagged across the atrium, underneath a solemn religious fresco that gazed down from the distant ceiling.


    ¡°Not this staircase again¡­ I guess I¡¯m not used to it yet¡­.¡± Kazuya grumbled softly. He straightened his posture and gave himself a determined nod, then began to ascend the labyrinth of stairs, taking steady and methodical footsteps one by one.


    This was the seventh time Kazuya had climbed this strange staircase. The very first time was when his teacher Miss C¨¦cile had asked him to deliver notes to a classmate at the top floor of the library. And then the fifth time¡­ The fifth time¡­


    ¡°Now why did I come here that day?¡± Kazuya bent his head quizzically as he climbed the stairs. Then his face tightened in a barely perceptible frown. The thought had only just occurred to him that somewhere along the way, without even realizing it, he had fallen into the daily habit of climbing this maze of stairs over and over again in order to visit that girl.


    ¡°Well, a lot of things have happened lately, and I needed her help¡­.¡± he whispered to himself in excuse. ¡°It¡¯s not like I actually want to see Victorique¡­.¡±


    After a few minutes, he finally reached the expansive floor at the very top, and from there entered the conservatory.


    The gentle rays of the morning sun shone through skylights, alighting upon the large tropical plants and garish flowers that bloomed in this greenhouse. The strange, enigmatic princess that he expected to find half-sprawled upon the floor, surrounded by books to fill her tedium¡ªwas today nowhere to be found. In her place, he found only a peculiar-looking young man, sullenly squatting down in a corner next to the elevator.


    He was wearing a finely-tailored three-piece suit with gleaming silver cufflinks. But contrary to his immaculate fashion sense, there was one thing off about him¡ªhis bizarre hairstyle, with his blond hair piled forward and twisted into a shape that suggested a drill. This man¡ªGr¨¦ville de Blois¡ªwas hugging his knees, appearing to be mumbling something under his breath. ¡°Two hundred and one, two hundred and two, two hundred and three¡­¡±


    His suspicions piqued, Kazuya gingerly crept forward to take a closer look. He found the inspector counting the white tiles on the floor of the elevator landing one by one. As Kazuya shrank back in uneasiness, the inspector caught sight of him. ¡°You¡¯re late, Kujou,¡± he said reproachfully, albeit not without a hint of delight.


    ¡°¡­What did you want to see me about? And more importantly, what are you doing?¡±


    ¡°There was nobody here, so I got bored.¡±


    ¡°Nobody here¡­?¡± Kazuya scanned the conservatory. Thinking he spotted Victorique somewhere in the distance, he moved closer, and confirmed that it was indeed her.


    Victorique, perhaps trying to avoid the inspector, was hidden deep amongst the plants. And for some reason, she was sitting in the same position that Kazuya had seen the inspector take earlier: crouched down, busily doing something that he couldn¡¯t quite make out. He looked at her daintily flowing chiffon dress, dyed the color of redcurrant, her chic lace-up shoes, and her long, magnificent blond hair, draped across her back like a turban come undone¡ªand noticed that all of them were caked in dirt.


    ¡°¡­Victorique?¡±


    He saw her shoulders twitch. Then she turned around to look at him, a startled expression on her face. ¡°Oh, you again. You¡¯re that odd Oriental by the name of, um, Kujou, if I recall correctly.¡±


    ¡°¡­That¡¯s right. Although the ¡®odd¡¯ bit was a little unnecessary. ¡­Whoa, you¡¯re covered in dirt! What have you been doing?¡±


    Kazuya rushed over to Victorique¡¯s side and began to wipe off her hair, the hem of her chiffon dress, and her small hands. She had apparently been doing some gardening, and the pearly white fingernails of her small hands were now stained brown with dirt.


    Kazuya quickly drew a pail of water and returned to wash Victorique¡¯s hands, despite her attempts to pull away. From afar he heard Inspector de Blois, still counting tiles, call out to him, ¡°So, Kujou. Let¡¯s get on with the reason I called you here today.¡±


    ¡°What was it? Although I¡¯ve kind of got my hands full at the moment¡­¡±


    The inspector grudgingly walked over and held out a sheaf of papers. Kazuya gave them a quick glance, but Victorique ignored them, instead plunging her face into a tuft of large red flowers.


    ¡°So what we have here is a list of all the valuables that Cuiaran stole all over Europe, then stored in various hiding places around St. Marguerite¡¯s School. The only item that has been recovered so far is the oldest stamp in the world, the Penny Black, which was safely delivered to its owner Miss Bradley the other day. But we otherwise don¡¯t know where the rest of the items were hidden. That means my next task is to go treasure-hunting for Cuiaran¡¯s loot.¡±


    Kazuya looked back up at him. As he had suspected, the inspector was for once directing his words not to him, but to Victorique, who continued to ignore him, burying her face in the flowers.


    Each time he was confronted with a criminal case, Inspector de Blois would rely on the intelligence of the gifted and mysterious Victorique to solve it, and would then proceed to pass off her achievement as his own. But on the other hand, Victorique and this inspector seemed to despise each other, and refused to speak to one another. Whenever the inspector wanted to talk to her about the particulars of some case, he had the bad habit of sitting Kazuya down and stubbornly pretending to talk to him instead¡­.


    Returning to his usual angle facing Kazuya, the inspector said, ¡°Take a look at this. At the top of the list is this painting entitled ¡®South Atlantic.¡¯ This is the last work of a talented painter who called it quits with the European art scene and moved to an island in the southern Atlantic. It was stolen from a certain royal residence around twenty years ago. And then there¡¯s this necklace that belonged to Countess Ashenden, nicknamed ¡®The Poison Flower.¡¯ This one was stolen from the Sauvure National Museum. And then¡­¡±


    Each item on the inspector¡¯s list was accompanied by a picture, including one that seemed to be a reproduction of the aforementioned painting, and another of a garish necklace adorned with glittering purple jewels. He went on to describe the rest of the items without pausing for breath.


    Kazuya continued to scrub Victorique¡¯s fingers vigorously. ¡°Never mind that¡­ Victorique, how long have you been digging in the dirt like this? You¡¯ve gotten your dress and your fingernails so dirty. When you were little, didn¡¯t your mama ever scold you for playing in the mud? Ugh, I still can¡¯t seem to clean it off¡­.¡±


    ¡°Mm?¡± Victorique finally withdrew her face from the flowers, drawing her brows together in an irritated frown. ¡°Now we have two noisy people.¡±


    ¡°¡­My apologies. Still, at least it¡¯s not boring for you, right?¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t I tell you that commotion is my second greatest enemy?¡±


    ¡°Oh, did you now?¡±


    The inspector silently kept a close ear on their conversation.


    Then Victorique raised her head. ¡°By the way, Kujou.¡±


    ¡°What? ¡­Look, I¡¯ve finally gotten your nails clean.¡±


    ¡°Are you interested in the rest of Cuiaran¡¯s loot? Do you want me to look for it?¡±


    Kazuya gave Victorique¡¯s small, startlingly well-sculpted face a bewildered stare. Then he cocked his head bemusedly. ¡°¡­No, not really?¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡± Victorique nodded. ¡°Me neither.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I thought. Whoa, inspector?! Why are you trying to choke me? If I¡¯m not interested, then I¡¯m just not interested. And why would you even want to call someone out on a Sunday morning for something like that, when locating stolen property is your job as a policeman! That¡¯s what I¡¯d like to know! I strongly object! Uh, wait, Victorique¡­!¡±


    As he struggled to free himself from the inspector¡¯s tight grip around his neck, Victorique slunk away from him, her hair swaying like a long, golden tail attached to some ancient, languorous creature. When she returned to squatting on the ground in the garden, Kazuya raised his voice in protest. ¡°Hey! It took a long time to get you clean, you know!¡±


    Victorique looked over her shoulder and snorted at him dismissively. Then she once again began to dig in the dirt, heedless of Kazuya¡¯s complaints.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t play in the mud! V-Victorique!?¡±

 Volume 1 - CH 5.3

    [3]


    Kazuya left the library and walked along the white pebbled path, his eyes downcast.


    That Victorique¡­ I can never seem to figure out what she¡¯s thinking¡­. Are we on better terms with each other now? Is she seeing me as her friend a little bit more now? I just can¡¯t tell at all¡­.


    It was another warm and sunny morning. Kazuya navigated his way around the white fountains, hedges, and flowerbeds neatly arranged throughout the French-style gardens that sprawled across campus. The merry laughter and light footsteps of uniformed students scurrying about echoed through the school grounds.


    ¡°Hey, Kujou!¡±


    Kazuya heard a cheerful voice call out to him, accompanied by the pitter-pat of feet excitedly running toward him. Wondering who it was, he turned around, and found a familiar girl¡ªAvril Bradley¡ªfast approaching him, waving something clasped in her hand.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s you,¡± said Kazuya.


    ¡°Heh-heh! I finally found you. I¡¯ve been looking for you all over,¡± Avril said, sounding genuinely happy.


    Kazuya felt himself cheer up slightly. ¡°Are you feeling better?¡±


    ¡°Yeah! I start classes tomorrow. I can¡¯t wait!¡±


    Just a few days ago, Avril had been in dire straits after being kidnapped by the self-appointed successor to the infamous thief Cuiaran. Thanks to a tip from Victorique, Kazuya and Inspector de Blois had rushed to her rescue. Avril looked very frail when they had discovered her, but she now seemed to have made a full recovery. At that time, Kazuya had felt very happy when she asked him to be her friend. But the Avril now before his eyes revealed a buoyant personality that lacked a single trace of shyness.


    ¡°I¡¯ve just been making a pilgrimage to all of the spots on campus that appear in the ghost stories. You should come with me!¡±


    ¡°Gh-ghost stories? Count me out!¡± Kazuya said, flinching away from her.


    After all, it was the fault of those stories that Kazuya ended up getting dubbed the ¡°Grim Reaper¡± just as soon as he arrived. And that caused him a lot of trouble even now¡­.


    But Avril, oblivious to his reaction, only continued smilingly, ¡°Why not? It¡¯s so fun! Guess what, something terrific just happened to me a little while ago!¡± She waved something purple at him¡ªit appeared to be a necklace. ¡°Do you know what this is? It¡¯s from the ¡®headless lady comes at three in the morning¡¯ story.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, can¡¯t say that I¡¯m familiar with it!¡±


    Avril pointed to one of the benches dotting the park. After the two of them sat down, she began toying with the purple necklace in her hand.


    ¡°There¡¯s a ¡®sealed reading room¡¯ on campus. Inside of it, you can find the portrait of a noblewoman, the countess Ashenden. She poisoned a lot of people to death, and terrorized the Sauvure aristocracy in the Middle Ages.¡±


    ¡°Huh¡­¡± Kazuya was seized by a sudden attack of drowsiness. As he idly gazed at Avril fidgeting with the necklace, he could only manage some noncommittal noises in response.


    ¡°Countess Ashenden always wore an amethyst necklace. It was called the ¡®Poison Flower¡¯. That¡¯s because she believed that amethyst was capable of changing its color in reaction to a poison. She was a wicked noblewoman who sought the king¡¯s favor, and poisoned the women who stood in her way one by one. But she was always deathly afraid that someday someone would poison her, too. So she even welded the clasp on her necklace shut so it could never be removed. When she was finally sent to the gallows to answer for her crimes, the moment of her beheading was the first time that that necklace had fallen off her neck since she first put it on.¡±


    Kazuya pondered for a moment. Wait a minute, haven¡¯t I heard this story somewhere before¡­? The image of a golden drill arose in his mind for a split second. Did I already hear about this from someone else?


    ¡°So ever since then, people have reported seeing the ghost of a headless Countess Ashenden walking through campus every night. She got loose from her portrait in the Sealed Reading Room and now she wanders around. But no one knows when or why that portrait was hung in that room. One day it just suddenly appeared on the wall. I bet the countess¡¯ ghost was looking for her place of eternal rest, and she decided to put it there herself!¡±


    ¡°Huh¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh, Kujou, are you feeling bored? In that case, let¡¯s get on to the main attraction! Ta-dah! Take a look at this! I found the countess¡¯ necklace, the ¡®Poison Flower¡¯!¡±


    Kazuya rubbed his eyes at the sight of the purple necklace in Avril¡¯s hand, a look of shock slowly spreading across his face. ¡°Avril, wh-wh-where did you find this?!¡±


    ¡°It was underneath an uneven section of floor in the hallway. I¡¯m sure that her ghost must¡¯ve accidentally dropped it there when she was on one of her walks. I mean, she is missing her head, you know.¡±


    ¡°Um¡­ If it was underneath the floor, wouldn¡¯t that mean someone deliberately hid it there rather than just dropped it? You know what, Avril, I saw that necklace on a list Inspector de Blois showed me earlier, of items stolen by Cuiaran¡ª¡±


    ¡°Kujou!¡± Avril jumped enthusiastically to her feet.


    Kazuya stood up from the bench with her. ¡°Wh-what?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s go to the Sealed Reading Room!¡±


    ¡°The reading room? But shouldn¡¯t we go see the inspector fir¡ª¡±


    ¡°I want to go look for Countess Ashenden¡¯s portrait right now. If her ghost dropped the necklace while she was wandering around, then it should be missing from her neck on the portrait. And that¡¯ll be the proof that her ghost came out from the picture to go roaming about. Let¡¯s go!¡±


    ¡°Avril! But what about¡ª¡± ¡­the inspector, the list, and Cuiaran, Kazuya wanted to say. But Avril was already running gleefully toward the main building, dragging him along with her.

 Volume 1 - CH 5.4

    [4]


    The large black doors of the Sealed Reading Room were already wide open, allowing the sound of a sweet and timorous voice to trickle outside. ¡°Um, uh, excuse me, please listen to what I¡¯m saying. I, I found¡ª¡±


    Miss C¨¦cile stood squarely in the middle of the room, her petite body shaking from side to side. In front of her were two young men wearing rabbit-skin hunting caps, their hands permanently joined in an affectionate clasp. The two men¡ªthe deputies of Inspector Gr¨¦ville de Blois¡ªexchanged a look with each other.


    ¡°This room has been locked for years, and all this time no one¡¯s gone inside. When I came in earlier, the floor was covered in dust, and I didn¡¯t see any footprints. But even though it¡¯s been sealed shut, I found this¡­.¡± Miss C¨¦cile pointed at the wall, her face dissolving into tears.


    At that very moment, Avril arrived at the door, still pulling Kazuya along with her. ¡°Lucky us, the door¡¯s already open! I wonder why?¡±


    ¡°Not much of a ¡®sealed reading room¡¯ then, is it¡­.¡±


    ¡°Kujou, look! There¡¯s that portrait¡ªhuh?¡± Avril flew into the room, her eyes gleaming with excitement as she eagerly pointed at the wall. And then her eyes widened into saucers when her gaze met that of Miss C¨¦cile, who was standing in the same position as she was, also with her finger pointed at the wall. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡±


    Miss C¨¦cile looked back at Avril with tear-filled eyes.


    ¡°Hmm?¡± Kazuya looked up at the wall. There was only one painting on display. He had expected to find the beautiful and yet sinister portrait of the serial poisoning countess ¡­ but instead, he saw¡­


    A clear blue sea and a radiant sun.


    It was the picturesque scenery of an island in the South Atlantic.


    *****


    Kazuya, Avril, Miss C¨¦cile, and the two deputies simultaneously looked at one another in silent shock.


    Then Avril began to shriek hysterically and wave around the necklace that was still clutched in her fist. ¡°What happened to Countess Ashenden¡¯s portrait?!¡±


    Miss C¨¦cile clasped her hands together. ¡°It, it disappeared!¡±


    ¡°It disappeared?!¡±


    ¡°This morning, when I came to look for an answer key¡ªuh, never mind about that. Anyway, I came here to perform a certain important task, and I found that Countess Ashenden¡¯s portrait was gone, and someone had replaced it with this weird painting of the ocean. But no one¡¯s been in here for ages¡­.¡±


    His mouth open in shock, Kazuya stared up at the so-called ¡°weird painting of the ocean¡±. With the only reaction of the two deputies being simply to jeer at the painting¡ª¡°What a weird painting! It looks like something a kid drew!¡±¡ªhe seemed to be the only one with an inkling of what this piece of artwork really was.


    Avril¡¯s face abruptly turned serious. ¡°Well¡­ I think it looks marvelous.¡±


    Miss C¨¦cile put her head in her hands. ¡°I wonder what happened?¡± she murmured. ¡°Why would someone switch the paintings, and how did they do that? It¡¯s not as if that portrait was of any value. Although no one quite knows how long it¡¯s been there either¡­.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a curse!¡± interjected Avril.


    ¡°A curse?! That¡¯s scary!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s cursed!¡±


    Avril¡¯s words sent Miss C¨¦cile into a panic, which in turn startled Kazuya. Once he recovered from his start of surprise, he timidly approached the two deputies. ¡°Um, excuse me, sirs¡­¡±


    At that point, they were already preparing to flee the reading room, and had made a 180-degree turn without letting go of each others¡¯ hands. Evidently, they had no desire whatsoever to investigate the situation. But they hesitated at the sound of Kazuya¡¯s voice, and both turned to face him, inclining their heads at the same time. ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Right before I came here, Inspector de Blois showed me the list of items stolen by Cuiaran, and¡­¡± Kazuya pointed at the painting of the ocean. ¡°This was on the list. It was the last work of some famous painter, titled ¡®South Atlantic¡¯ if I remember correctly.¡±


    ¡°Really?!¡±


    ¡°Well, I wouldn¡¯t have any idea how it ended up here. And this girl found a necklace that was also on the list. A necklace by the name of ¡®Poison Flower¡¯¡­.¡±


    The two deputies exchanged a look.


    Then they each took a deep breath, and yelled, ¡°Inspecto-o-o-r!¡±


    ¡°¡ªo-o-o-r!¡±


    Holding hands tightly, they ran down the corridor, shouting all the way.


    *****


    The three people left behind in the reading room stood dumbfounded for a moment.


    Then Avril, who was staring at the painting, suddenly whispered forlornly, ¡°So this is a picture of the South Atlantic sea¡­.¡± The slightest trace of a shadow clouded her normally vivacious blue eyes. She slowly walked out of the reading room into the hallway.


    When Kazuya turned to look at her, he detected an unusual loneliness in the line of her slumped shoulders. Starting to feel slightly concerned, he quietly followed her.


    Avril left the building and walked through the school gardens in a daze. She wandered to the edge of a fountain, and sat down beside it. When she noticed Kazuya following her with a worried expression, she gave him a wan smile.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong, Avril?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s just that¡­¡± She absentmindedly ran her fingers along the ledge. ¡°About that postcard that you returned to me, the last letter from my grandfather, Sir Bradley. He was a famous explorer, you know.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard of him. There were newspaper articles about him in my country, too.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    Kazuya nodded.


    Avril¡¯s grandfather, Sir Bradley, had been a famous adventurer. And the reason she had been targeted by the thief Cuiaran was because of the heirloom he had bequeathed to her¡­.


    A warm expression lit up Avril¡¯s face. ¡°My grandpa was full of life, always itching for a new adventure. Every boy in the world loved to tell stories about his travels. But the rest of my family treated him as an eccentric. My papa was sickly from birth, the exact opposite of my grandpa. So he was overjoyed when I was born full of life, and always used to tell me I took after grandpa, and always encouraged me to become a fabulous explorer like him when I grew up. But then my grandma would poke me so hard that it felt like she was taking a few years off my life, and say she wanted to turn me into an elegant lady instead.¡±


    ¡°Huh¡­¡±


    ¡°And being able to come study in Sauvure was thanks to my papa, too. He said that he wanted me to broaden my horizons. So now¡­¡±


    Kazuya nodded solemnly and leaned forward, sensing that Avril was about to get to the point of her story. After all, this was the first time he heard her talk about something unrelated to ghost stories. He had a strong hunch that if he let this opportunity slip by, he would perhaps never get to hear her talk about such things ever again.


    A moment later, they heard the sound of quickly approaching footsteps. They looked up, wondering who it was, only to see the two deputies, wearing their rabbit-skin hunting caps and holding hands, headed their way.


    The two men let go of each others¡¯ hands, and each grabbed hold of one of Kazuya¡¯s hands, sandwiching him between them.


    ¡°Huh?¡± Kazuya felt his feet lift off the ground. ¡°Wh-what¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°Inspector de Blois wants to see you!¡±


    ¡°He said to bring you right away!¡±


    ¡°B-bring me where?¡±


    ¡°To the library!¡±


    As the deputies dragged Kazuya away like a prisoner with both hands bound, he belatedly looked over his shoulder and called out, ¡°See you later, Avril! I¡¯ll be back soo¡ª¡±


    ¡°Ha-ha! Not that soon!¡±


    Kazuya kept looking back as they pulled him along to the library¡­.

 Volume 1 - CH 5.5

    [5]


    Once they arrived at St. Marguerite¡¯s Library, that sanctuary of knowledge and silence, its ash-grey stone walls weathered by the passage of hundreds of years¡­.


    The two deputies kicked open the library¡¯s leather-covered swing door and unceremoniously threw Kazuya inside the atrium. ¡°I have to climb this staircase again?!¡± he yelled in protest. ¡°Once in a day is quite enough as far as I¡¯m concerned. Hey, are you listening to me?¡±


    ¡°Ha, ha, ha!¡±


    ¡°Now climb it!¡±


    Kazuya sighed, then steeled himself and looked up at the distant top of the atrium. The interior of the library was held together not by walls, but by giant bookshelves crammed full of leather-bound books. Kazuya felt as if they were looking down and groaning at the sight of him, sick of him coming time after time.


    A narrow wooden staircase zigzagged nearly all the way to the ceiling, which featured a solemn religious fresco. The intricate labyrinth of dry wood resembled an enormous dinosaur bone that someone had unearthed.


    Kazuya took one step up the stairs.


    Then another step, and another.


    I guess I have no choice¡­. Well, it¡¯s not like Inspector de Blois will be the only one up there; Victorique should be there, too¡­.


    When the thought of Victorique entered his mind, somehow the pace of his footsteps began to gradually quicken.


    Still, that Victorique¡­ That funny, moody, mean, strange little girl¡­ Jeez, she¡¯s such an unpleasant person, and her attitude toward me is completely unacceptable¡­.


    As he continued to think about her, Kazuya¡¯s climbing became more and more energetic, and soon enough he was running up the staircase.


    *****


    At the very top of the maze of stairs¡­


    When Kazuya reached the conservatory overgrown with tropical trees, gently illuminated by skylights, he was once again met by the sight of a man with a golden drill on top of his head. Inspector Gr¨¦ville de Blois had been waiting impatiently, whiling away the time by restlessly pulling on leaves. The moment he spotted Kazuya, he struck one of his poses, and called out to him loudly.


    ¡°Kujou! The worthless portrait of that murderous Countess Ashenden disappeared from the Sealed Reading Room, and was replaced underneath our noses with a famous painting, the ¡®South Atlantic¡¯!¡±


    ¡°Um, I know that already. I was there when it was discovered,¡± said Kazuya, trying to catch his breath.


    ¡°And the necklace that belonged to that countess, the ¡®Poison Flower,¡¯ was found hidden underneath some floorboards! What the devil is going on here?¡±


    Kazuya grimaced at the inspector¡¯s earsplitting shout. He promptly brushed past him and entered the gardens, searching for Victorique¡¯s small form.


    He found her sitting down in the same position he had seen her in last time, hunched over into a ball and busily gardening.


    ¡°Victorique¡­ Oh no, you¡¯ve gotten all muddy again! For goodness¡¯ sake, why do you have to keep doing this? Ruining your pretty dress like that¡­¡±


    While grumbling disapprovingly, Kazuya once again filled a bucket of water, grabbed Victorique¡¯s small hands, and forcefully washed the dirt from them. Her face twisted into a child¡¯s petulant scowl, but she nevertheless obediently allowed him to wash her.


    The inspector raised his voice in annoyance from behind Kazuya, who was continuing to mumble complaints under his breath. ¡°K-Kujou, won¡¯t you listen to what I have to say¡­?¡±


    ¡°Huh? About what?¡±


    Kazuya and Victorique both raised their faces from the bucket to look up at him.


    The inspector¡¯s drill glinted golden among the colorful foliage of tropical flowers.


    Victorique stared at him for a moment, her mouth hanging open. Then she slowly parted her glossy, cherry-red lips and uttered a single, unexpected word.


    ¡°¡­Unicorn.¡±


    ¡°Huh? Oh, I get it. You¡¯re right, it kind of looks like that from a certain angle. You¡¯re pretty sharp, aren¡¯t you, Victorique! Hey, wait¡­ Inspector, why is your face so red? Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re angry?¡±


    Inspector de Blois glared at Victorique, his lips trembling and his cheeks a deep scarlet. Kazuya looked back and forth between the two of them, wondering what had gotten the inspector so angry.


    ¡°¡­For you of all people to say that, when you¡¯re the one who designed it in the first place!¡± Inspector de Blois said softly.


    ¡°What did you say, inspector?¡±


    ¡°Uh, n-nothing!¡±


    Taking advantage of Kazuya¡¯s distraction, Victorique again turned back to her gardening, dirtying her hands anew despite the effort it took to scrub them clean. Sensing Kazuya about to yell at her admonishingly, she murmured in her husky voice, perhaps in an effort to change the subject, ¡°Kujou, aren¡¯t you going to write a reply to that letter?¡±


    Kazuya, on the verge of an angry shout, closed his mouth, and stared dumbly at Victorique. ¡°L-letter?¡± Then he connected the dots in his mind, and clapped his hands together. ¡°That¡¯s right. I forgot that I received a letter from my second eldest brother yesterday. But Victorique¡­ How did you know that?¡±


    Looking thoroughly bored, Victorique opened her mouth in a huge yawn, her red currant-colored chiffon dress rustling in time with her movement. She raised a small, muddy hand to cover her mouth, leaving a smear of mud on her rosy cheek. Kazuya quickly took out his handkerchief to wipe her face. Victorique tried to slap his handkerchief away with both of her hands, as if batting away a noisy fly.


    ¡°That sort of thing is nothing at all. It¡¯s too simple to even require the use of my overflowing wellspring of wisdom. I just happened to see your letter peeking out of your breast pocket.¡±


    Kazuya immediately looked down at his pocket. Sure enough, he had placed the letter inside when he left his dormitory room this morning.


    ¡°You deliberately took the letter with you because you planned to read it, or perhaps were hesitating on what to write in reply. I have reconstructed the fragments of chaos thusly. In other words, Kujou, the contents of that letter were bothering you in some way.¡±


    Kazuya whistled in admiration. ¡°Victorique, you may be weird, but you¡¯re awfully smart!¡±


    ¡°Mmm?!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just like you said. You know what, to tell you the truth, this letter from my brother has been tormenting me ever since I received it last night. I can¡¯t seem to get it out of my mind¡­.¡±


    ¡°No more hemming and hawing, just let me see it.¡±


    Kazuya pulled the letter from his breast pocket.


    A voice of objection came from the golden drill peeking at them from under the shade of the palm trees. ¡°Hey, I was here first! That¡¯s not fair!¡±


    ¡°¡­The unicorn is angry,¡± said Kazuya.


    ¡°Let him be. Now hurry up and open it.¡±


    ¡°O-okay¡­¡±


    Kazuya opened the envelope and handed it to Victorique. She accepted it with an inquisitive grunt, then began to read it.


    The letter was written in slightly broken English. Kazuya¡¯s second eldest brother spent his free time engaged in his hobby of creating inventions, but was also employed in a government-related job, and was highly respected in the community. He had apparently challenged himself to practice writing letters in English. The contents consisted of a simple report of recent events: the family was doing well, a tree in the garden had died, this year¡¯s winter had been quite a harsh one, and other such innocuous topics.


    He ended the letter with a clumsily drawn picture of what looked like a rose, and beneath it, another picture of a woman. Next to the drawing, he had written ¡°It¡¯s a secret!¡± in small print.


    Kazuya peered closely into Victorique¡¯s small face, thinking to himself that even she, for all of her smarts, would never be able to figure out the meaning of this picture and the message. But as soon as this thought had crossed his mind, she abruptly giggled.


    Kazuya was so shocked that he jumped into the air. Victorique, who always had an insult at the ready and whose expression never showed an ounce of warmth, had suddenly smiled. Her face was startlingly adorable, and Kazuya felt his heartbeat quicken at the sight of it.


    ¡°Wh-what happened?¡±


    ¡°Mmm? Oh, just that your second eldest brother or whoever he is amused me a little.¡±


    ¡°Was there something funny?¡± Kazuya examined the letter, reading it over several times. Finally, he shook his head, still stumped. ¡°Hey, what do you mean? Is it the picture that made you laugh? I couldn¡¯t get what it means at all. What the heck is this ¡®secret¡¯ he¡¯s talking about?¡±


    Victorique pursed her smooth, cherry-red lips, then moved close to Kazuya¡¯s ear, as if about to share something private with him. He blushed slightly at the sensation of her cool breath tickling his ear. But Victorique paid no mind to his reaction, and whispered to him in a low, husky voice.


    ¡°Your brother has a secret lover.¡±


    ¡°What?! A lover!?¡± screeched Kazuya.


    ¡°Right. And the only one he wanted to tell was his little brother, who lives far away.¡±


    ¡°My big brother has a lover?! I don¡¯t believe it! But he wears glasses, and spends all his time with his inventions! That is, when he isn¡¯t eating!¡±


    Kazuya grabbed the letter and brought it close to his face, then held it out at arms¡¯ length, reading it over and over many times. But he still saw nothing remotely related to what she had said.


    Giving up, he looked over at Victorique and quietly waited for her explanation.


    A breeze flowed in from the skylights, audibly stirring the palm fronds.


    Victorique had turned herself completely over to gardening, seeming to have forgotten about Kazuya. After some time had passed, she at last appeared to feel satisfied with her work, and plunged her small hands into the bucket to wash them. When her hands were clean, she looked up at Kazuya. ¡°Give me your handkerchief.¡±


    ¡°¡­Okay, but I want you to give me an explanation, Victorique.¡±


    ¡°An explanation?¡± Victorique gave him a mystified look. As she wiped her small hands with Kazuya¡¯s proffered handkerchief, she asked wonderingly, ¡°Of what?¡±


    ¡°That secret lover!¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­ So you still don¡¯t understand. You really are a slow one. Every day must be a struggle for you.¡±


    ¡°Leave me out of this! Hurry up and explain it!¡±


    Victorique sighed heavily in exasperation. ¡°Do I have to?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡±


    She resignedly began to explain. ¡°Ugh¡­ First of all, that letter was written in English. And a woman¡¯s picture was drawn underneath the rose. Incidentally, in English the phrase ¡®sub rosa¡¯¡ª¡¯under the rose¡¯¡ª is used to mean ¡®in secret¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Wow¡­¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right. So, from this we can assume that your brother has a secret girlfriend, and that this is to be kept strictly confidential. I suppose it would be embarrassing to him. ¡­Do you finally understand now?¡±


    Kazuya nodded admiringly. ¡°I got it. But Victorique¡­ You sure figured that one out in no time, huh?¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?!¡±


    Kazuya had only meant to praise her, but for some reason Victorique suddenly scowled as if he had just said something very rude, and began to fiercely object. ¡°K-Kujou. Who on earth do you think you¡¯re talking to here? There is nothing I don¡¯t know. This sort of puzzle doesn¡¯t even deserve to be called a mystery.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­?¡± Kazuya stared dumbfounded at Victorique, who had suddenly become incensed, staining her rosy cheeks scarlet. Then he added offhandedly, ¡°That reminds me: my brother always loved solving puzzles. Well, he may be very bashful around women, and would even fall into a faint whenever his little sister¡ªI mean my big sister¡ªgave him a hug. But he¡¯s still very smart. At university, he was so brilliant at math that he won the respect of his professors. And his hobby is inventing things. I remember how he used to boast that if it weren¡¯t for his job, he could defeat anyone in the world when it came to solving puzzles. Ha-ha!¡±


    ¡°¡­What did you say?¡± Victorique¡¯s finely shaped eyebrows shot upwards upon hearing his innocently uttered words.


    Kazuya was taken aback. ¡°V-Victorique¡­? Hey, what¡¯s wrong?¡±


    ¡°How dare the brother of the likes of you claim to be the best in the world at anything!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not like I have anything to do with it! Hey¡­?!¡±


    Victorique shook her fists violently. Then she suddenly uttered a strange cry, sounding somewhat like a cross between a snort and a sneeze, and rolled on the ground out of the conservatory. Her frilly petticoats and billowing drawers fluttered before Kazuya¡¯s astonished gaze for an instant.


    ¡°Wh-where did you go¡­? Oh, never mind. You¡¯re back already.¡±


    The ball of redcurrant-colored chiffon again rolled back to Kazuya¡¯s feet. During her brief moment out of his sight, she had somehow managed to gather up writing paper, a quill pen, and an ink bottle without him noticing it.


    Kazuya watched over her carefully, wondering what on earth she was up to this time. Then Victorique, her face completely flushed, spread the writing paper out on the floor and began to draw a white horse.


    ¡°¡­Are you doodling?¡±


    Victorique ignored him.


    ¡°Jeez. You¡¯re always so impulsive. What¡¯s that? Drawing a horsey? Ha-ha, you¡¯re doing a lousy job of it¡­ Ouch! Don¡¯t pinch me! Ack, that¡¯s going to leave a mark!¡±


    ¡°I am not doodling. I am issuing a challenge to that stupid Kujou sibling across the seas.¡±


    ¡°He isn¡¯t stupid. I might be, but he definitely isn¡¯t. ¡­Huh, a challenge?¡± Kazuya blinked in surprise.


    And then he took a closer look at Victorique¡¯s drawing.


    She had drawn a white horse running along a hilly landscape. The scene looked familiar. Kazuya recalled reading about a famous tourist attraction in the county of Berkshire in England of an enormous figure of a white horse that had been carved into a hill in prehistoric times.


    ¡°Hmm¡­ And what about this one?¡± He turned to look at another picture that Victorique had drawn. It was a comical drawing of a donkey, albeit a very unskillfully drawn one. ¡°What¡¯s this one for? Huh? Are you writing something on it, too?¡±


    ¡°Shut up. Don¡¯t bother me.¡±


    ¡°C-come on, I wasn¡¯t bothering you!¡±


    But Victorique was fully engrossed in her work, and offered no reaction to Kazuya¡¯s denials. Beneath her sketches, she was composing a message in elegantly handwritten English.


    Kazuya read it aloud. ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­. ¡®Rearrange this poorly-drawn donkey so that it turns into this beautiful white horse. Do it in under five minutes. This is an order. From Victorique.¡¯ ¡­Really, is this supposed to be a puzzle? Well, okay, but if you write ¡®from Victorique,¡¯ he isn¡¯t going to know who you are. ¡­What, why are you glaring at me like that? Tch¡­ Fine, fine.¡±


    Kazuya quickly gave in. He took the paper from Victorique and wrote a message in the corner. There¡¯s nothing new to report on my end, thanks for informing me about the ¡°sub rosa¡± matter, and also, I made friends with a little girl, and that girl is very smart and for some reason wants to give you a quiz, and I don¡¯t really get it myself, but I¡¯m forwarding it to you anyway, etc¡­.


    Victorique nodded in satisfaction, her mood finally seeming to have improved.


    Kazuya thought privately to himself: She¡¯s awfully childish. I guess she really hates to lose¡­. and sighed in dismay.


    Victorique, now completely calmed down, sat down gracefully, looking for all like a noblewoman despite her tiny size. With slow and deliberate movements, she lifted up her white ceramic pipe, lit the fire, and brought it to her small lips to take a puff.


    Then she suddenly spoke. ¡°So, about that portrait of Countess Ashenden.¡±


    ¡°You remembered!¡± shouted Inspector de Blois, poking his drill in their direction.


    *****


    The sunlight that illuminated the conservatory had grown brighter, shining radiantly upon the lush vegetation. A springtime breeze gently seeped in from the skylights, rustling through tree leaves and flower petals alike.


    A thin white tendril of smoke weaved its way up toward the ceiling from the ceramic pipe hanging out of Victorique¡¯s mouth.


    Kazuya stood amiably beside the inspector, awaiting Victorique¡¯s next words with bated breath.


    ¡°Kujou, do you know Latin?¡±


    ¡°Not really.¡±


    Inspector de Blois also grimaced and shook his drill in negation.


    ¡°¡¯Pentimento¡¯ is a word in Latin that, literally translated, means ¡®to regret¡¯. Of course, Latin is no longer a language used for everyday conversation. And it¡¯s rare that this word is ever used in the sense of its original meaning. Even so, words can live on indefinitely by taking on new meanings. I suppose that even if roses themselves happened to disappear from the face of the earth for whatever reason, the expression ¡®sub rosa¡¯ may still survive. You could think of it as a descendant of the rose. And so the same is true in this case.¡±


    ¡°¡­Wh-what do you mean?¡±


    ¡°The Latin word ¡®pentimento¡¯ lives on today as a specialized term used in the fine arts. It refers to the action a painter takes when he regrets something he has painted. You see, a painter may feel like creating a new painting atop the canvas of the original one, in case that one was a failure. Or in case he wants to hide the original.¡±


    Victorique removed the pipe from her lips, then slowly, languidly, turned to Kazuya.


    Like one entranced, Kazuya stared into her light green eyes, which were hazy with a deep weariness, the likes of which he had never encountered before meeting her. Her eyes were devoid of emotion, as if they belonged to a completely different person from the one whose face had earlier been flushed with childish anger. Those motionless green eyes could have been mistaken for the glass eyes of some extinct animal stuffed and put on display. They possessed a negative charge, powerful enough to send shivers down the spine of anyone who looked at them. And yet Kazuya could not tear his eyes away from them. He felt as if he was being stared down by some huge, ferocious animal.


    Victorique went on with her explanation. ¡°After many years, the colors of the work that the artist painted on top fade and disappear. And then, one day, the original painting is revealed. This phenomenon is called ¡®pentimento¡®.¡±


    Kazuya exchanged surprised looks with the inspector. ¡°So then, what you¡¯re saying is¡­?¡±


    ¡°The painting that hung on the wall of the Sealed Reading Room was never switched out. Long ago, someone tried to hide ¡®South Atlantic,¡¯ and painted an amateurish portrait on top of it. But when the paint faded, the original masterpiece once again became visible.¡±


    ¡°Wh-who did that?¡±


    Victorique shot Kazuya a withering look. Then she snorted through her small, shapely nose, and continued in her usual unbearably haughty manner.


    ¡°¡­Shouldn¡¯t it be obvious by now that it was Cuiaran who did it? The same Cuiaran who stole the ¡®South Atlantic¡¯ and Countess Ashenden¡¯s ¡®Poison Flower.¡¯ When he came here to hide the painting, he thought of painting something else on top of it. And then he remembered the original owner of the necklace that he had also come to hide, and ended up drawing that portrait of her. And that is the secret of who hung that portrait in the reading room, and when it was placed there.¡±


    *****


    Silence fell upon the conservatory.


    Intense rays of sunlight blazed through the skylights as a mellow springtime breeze lightly ruffled through palm fronds.


    A thin white trail of smoke rose from Victorique¡¯s ceramic pipe and swayed lazily in midair.


    For several moments, no one said a word. Kazuya could do nothing but gaze speechlessly at Victorique¡¯s small and lovely face while she sat in impassive silence.


    Inspector de Blois, who was the most shocked out of anyone in the room, at last collected his wits together. ¡°Well, now. I guess I should be going.¡± He slowly turned away from the conservatory and walked to the hydraulic elevator with such brisk steps that he might as well have been trying to flee the scene.


    Kazuya jolted back to awareness, and shouted after him reproachfully. ¡°Inspector! Are you going to use Victorique for her intelligence yet again, then just ignore her and leave? You should take this opportunity to thank her. Inspector, inspector!¡±


    ¡°¡­What are you talking about? I merely came here to have a chat with you, Kujou,¡± said the inspector, mumbling an excuse that Kazuya had already heard him use before. He jumped into the iron cage of the elevator and shut the black metal doors.


    ¡°¡­Gr¨¦ville.¡± Victorique suddenly uttered his name aloud in her husky voice.


    The inspector¡¯s shoulders twitched, and he looked up to the ceiling while taking peeks at her from the corner of his eye. ¡°Wh-what do you want? I¡¯m busy here. I have to go search for all of the loot that Cuiaran hid inside this school. Well, then, I must be off.¡±


    ¡°You may search as much as you like, but unfortunately for you, this is one thing you¡¯re never going to find, Gr¨¦ville.¡±


    Victorique produced a small bag out of nowhere and threw it at the inspector, swinging her arm dramatically. But the bag refused to fly more than a meter away from where she was standing, and instead fell limply to the ground. Kazuya dutifully retrieved it, and walked over to hand it to the inspector.


    It was a small bag embroidered with a floral pattern. The inspector stared at it blankly for a moment, then suddenly gave a shout. He pulled out the list of items stolen by Cuiaran and scanned it, looking back and forth between the list and the bag. Kazuya also leaned in for a peek.


    On the list was a drawing of a cloth bag that looked exactly like the one that Victorique had just thrown to him. It contained the seed of a rare flower that a famous botanist had discovered in the rainforests of South America.


    The inspector hastily opened the bag and peered inside. Then he turned it upside down and shook it.


    But nothing came out.


    ¡°It¡¯s empty!¡± he shrieked.


    Then he turned to the enigmatic, beautiful young girl who was still standing in the center of the conservatory, gazing at him fixedly with her green eyes.


    ¡°What happened to the seed?!¡±


    ¡°¡­I ate it.¡±


    ¡°Y-y-y-you ate it!? Are you a squirrel?! Tell me you¡¯re lying!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the truth. It was quite delicious, too. As you know, my greatest enemy is tedium. From time to time I like to surprise myself with new and unusual things to eat.¡±


    Victorique said no more. She gave a nod of satisfaction, then promptly turned her back to him. The white strand of smoke from her pipe swayed almost imperceptibly, as if she were suppressing laughter¡­.


    The iron cage of the elevator descended with a harsh metallic clang.


    Kazuya had been nervously looking back and forth between Victorique and the inspector during their exchange. Now, as the iron cage dropped below the floor, he thought he saw the inspector¡¯s face contort in frustration, right before disappearing from view.


    *****


    Kazuya scrambled back to the conservatory. ¡°Did you really eat it? Something as valuable as that? And it didn¡¯t give you a stomachache?¡±


    Victorique chose not to look at him, merely acknowledging him with a snort through her dainty nose.


    Kazuya, still taken aback by what he had just seen, was briefly silent, then finally burst out laughing. ¡°You should¡¯ve seen the look on his face!¡±


    ¡°Kujou¡­ You like pretty flowers, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Flowers?¡± Kazuya repeated, nonplussed. Then he thought for a moment. ¡°Yeah, I do. In my home country, my mother used to tend our garden. Different kinds of flowers would bloom depending on the time of year, and they looked really pretty. But the ones in this conservatory are nice, too. How about you?¡±


    Victorique¡¯s only response was another snort.


    Kazuya gave her a perplexed look, uncertain of where this sudden turn of conversation was headed. Then he fell silent, and began worrying whether his presence was bothering Victorique. If the case has been solved, then I guess there¡¯s no more reason for me to keep coming here¡­.


    Victorique continued to ignore him, and returned to reading her books. She flipped through the pages of the many books she was reading simultaneously with tremendous speed.


    Although he could not quite understand why, Kazuya felt loath to part from this peculiar little girl. It¡¯s not like I have any reason to keep climbing that ghastly staircase every day. I may never see this strange girl ever again¡­. The thought of it makes me feel kind of lonely. But¡­


    Victorique, by all appearances engrossed in her books, spoke without moving her gaze from them. ¡°Kujou. In around ten days. It might happen then.¡±


    ¡°Okay? ¡­Hey, what¡¯s wrong? Your face is a little red.¡±


    ¡°N-n-no, it isn¡¯t! It might happen in ten days!¡±


    ¡°It is, though¡­. What might happen in ten days?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ You can come back then.¡±


    Kazuya was momentarily stunned. Then his face brightened in a flash. ¡°Can I really?!¡±


    ¡°¡­You can come in ten days, and then go look over there.¡±


    ¡°Over there?¡± Kazuya stared curiously in the direction she was pointing¨Caround the area where she had been digging in the dirt all morning.


    Victorique took a drag from her pipe. ¡°In around ten days, a rare tropical flower will bloom in that spot. You can come see it.¡±


    ¡°¡­Oh, so that¡¯s what it was! Victorique, you were planting it, weren¡¯t you!¡±


    ¡°Well, you see, I hadn¡¯t realized. When the seed fell out of the bag, I planted it. And then I found out it was on that list¡­.¡±


    Victorique blushed, then flapped her small, outstretched hands. Kazuya stared in astonishment at the sight of her fumbling for excuses, lost in a self-imposed panic. At last she fell silent, and placed her palms on her red cheeks.


    A gentle wind blew, vibrating the palm fronds and causing the line of smoke from Victorique¡¯s pipe to flicker.


    Kazuya felt delight begin to well up inside of him. ¡°Then it¡¯s okay if I come back here? I¡¯m not going to be too noisy and bother you?¡±


    Victorique gave no reply aside from a snort. Then, through the corner of her eye, she looked at Kazuya, whose grin was growing ever bigger. She frowned in irritation, and opened her mouth as if she had something to say.


    But for some reason, the usual stinging insults that she uttered in her husky voice did not come forth from her glossy, cherry-red lips. She closed her mouth, and gave another snort.


    A breeze from the skylights lingered upon Victorique¡¯s lustrous blond hair, which draped down her back like a velvet turban come undone. The palm fronds murmured softly.


    Kazuya turned away from her, preparing to leave the conservatory. He placed his hand on the ivy-etched railing of the labyrinthine staircase, then looked back once more. For a moment, a scene flashed before his eyes as if in a daydream.


    The library tower, shrouded in grey. One day, in that marvelous conservatory on the very top floor, the seed of an exotic foreign plant would bud and bloom into a luminous flower. As the flower swayed in the breeze from the skylights, the enigmatic little girl Victorique, herself like a marvelous foreign flower, would admire it. And Kazuya would sit nestled by her side¡­.


    Like a secret gardener watching over an unusual flower, Kazuya simply watched Victorique, who sat amidst her sumptuous frills, like colorful scattered petals. Up until now, she had been sitting in the conservatory, stubbornly ignoring him. But as Kazuya continued to stare at her in a daze, transfixed by a moment¡¯s vision, Victorique lifted up her head slightly. Their eyes met.


    Kazuya held his breath, and merely gazed at her with heat in his eyes. Victorique stared back at him wonderingly. The two of them stayed silent for what felt like an eternity, until finally Victorique whispered in a voice as husky as that of an old woman, mixed with a sigh of unbearable tedium.


    ¡°I will always be right here. If ever you have something to say, then just climb up that labyrinth of stairs and tell me!¡±

 Volume 1 - CH 5.6

    [6]


    A warm spring breeze drifted through the school grounds, stirring the blooming flowers in their beds, and the blades of grass on the green lawn.


    Kazuya walked along the white pebbled path leading from the library until reaching the front of the school building. He arrived just in time to see Inspector de Blois¡¯ two deputies confiscating Cuiaran¡¯s two stolen works of art as evidence, with one of them carrying away Countess Ashenden¡¯s necklace, the ¡°Poison Flower,¡± and the other one hoisting the famous painting, the ¡°South Atlantic,¡± off the premises.


    Avril Bradley, the transfer student from England, sorrowfully watched them go. Kazuya carefully approached from behind her, and noticed that she was gazing not at the sparkling necklace, but at the large painting. ¡°I always thought girls preferred jewels over artwork,¡± he called out to her.


    Avril turned around, startled. When she saw Kazuya, she smiled at him, then stretched out a long, lissome arm and pointed at the painting. ¡°That painting is supposed to be of the South Atlantic sea, right? It¡¯s lovely! You know, my grandpa passed away.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­¡± Kazuya, walking alongside Avril, bowed his head. He had read about Sir Bradley¡¯s death in the newspaper while he was still in his home country. The famed explorer, on a certain day in his sixtieth year, had gotten in a hot air balloon¡­. Yes, and then¡­


    ¡°He set out to make a trans-Atlantic crossing by hot air balloon, but he ended up disappearing over the open sea. Everyone said he was being foolhardy and that he must have been going senile¡­. But when I look at that painting, all I can think of is how unbearably lovely that sea is.¡±


    Avril smiled sadly, tears beginning to collect in her large blue eyes. Kazuya hastily searched for his handkerchief, and offered it to Avril. She wiped her tears and blew her nose into it, then handed it back to him.


    ¡°His hot air balloon disappeared into the ocean, but I¡¯m certain that the last sight my grandpa ever got to see was that beautiful blue sea, just like a peek into paradise. I feel that in my heart.¡± She giggled self-consciously.


    ¡°Avril¡­¡± I¡¯ll have to wash that later, thought Kazuya silently as he returned the handkerchief to his back pocket.


    A fresh, sweet scent wafted from beds of blossoming flowers. The gravel path beneath their feet made a faint crunching sound with each step of their shoes.


    Avril¡¯s face lit up in a clear and unclouded smile, like a flower unfurling its petals. ¡°I wish I could go on adventures to the ends of the earth, just like my grandpa did. Say, I bet the country you come from is a wonderful place, too. I¡¯d like to visit someday!¡±


    ¡°Wow¡­ That¡¯s the first time anyone¡¯s ever told me that. Everyone here seems to think countries overseas are all dreadfully barbaric. Just look at how they even had to nickname me the Grim Reaper.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Wait, you didn¡¯t know that yet? ¡­Oops.¡±


    Avril giggled at his dismayed expression. ¡°They probably feel uncomfortable with anything that¡¯s unfamiliar. That¡¯s especially the case with the girls here who come from noble families. But I love learning about unfamiliar lands and unfamiliar cultures. I¡¯m sure there are all sorts of exciting discoveries to be made there. I think the world beyond Europe must be a fantastic place.¡±


    As Kazuya walked with Avril, thoughts of another girl arose in his mind. A girl from a noble family, as Avril had said¡­.


    ¡°Kujou, I hope someday¡­¡±


    That tiny, strange girl, always with an insult at the ready, who never set foot outside of the wondrous conservatory at the top floor of the library, much less outside of Sauvure; that girl, like an enigmatic flower¡­.


    ¡°I hope someday I can go far, far away¡­.¡±


    Victorique¡­.


    Engulfed in sumptuous dresses as exquisite as flower petals, and yet possessing such a fearsome intellect¡­. Victorique¡­


    ¡°Are you listening, Kujou?¡±


    ¡°¡­Huh? Oh, yeah.¡± Kazuya snapped back to reality.


    Avril shot a perturbed frown at Kazuya, who had been staring into space absentmindedly. But at last, the smile returned to her face once more.


    *****


    The wind blew a little more strongly.


    A springtime¡¯s breeze, still tinged with cold¡­


    Rays of mellow sunlight fell upon the school grounds, and gently shimmered upon Kazuya¡¯s black hair as he stood still¡­.


    *****


    A few weeks later, Avril Bradley, the transfer student and ghost story enthusiast extraordinaire, would tell Kazuya Kujou of the mystery of the ghost ship Queen Berry. He and Victorique would end up entangled in a great adventure revolving around the strange incidents taking place on board that ship.


    And in their second adventure, they would come to visit the isolated mountain sanctuary known as the ¡°Nameless Village,¡± and learn the secrets of Victorique¡¯s past.


    In their third adventure, Kazuya would be entangled into a mass disappearance case of people who vanished into the darkness in the capital of Sauvure¡­.


    Victorique and Kazuya would end up overcoming various perils together over the next several months.


    And then, with their hearts borne aloft on the winds, the seasons around them at last shift from spring to summer.


    They would spend a long holiday in the school.


    And on the first day of that summer, Kazuya would receive a letter from his second eldest brother. It would feature an answer to Victorique¡¯s puzzle of the pony, and include a challenge from him to her in the form of a new puzzle. The summer memories of Victorique and Kazuya, and of another girl, intertwine¡­.


    But that is, once again, an entirely different story¡­.

 Volume 1 - CH 6

    Translator: Kell


    ¡ªMonologue 5¡ª


    We trudged down the flooded corridor, up the stairs on the bow side, and onto the deck.


    Lee¡¯s limp body was growing heavier and heavier on my back. My knees trembled with each step I took. But I was the only one who could carry her. The two boys were losing blood from the wounds Huey had inflicted, their faces gradually turning pale, while the other girl was crying from shock. I couldn¡¯t just leave Lee behind.


    I couldn¡¯t tell if Lee was still alive. Her dark hair bobbed as I climbed up the stairs. Her chocolate-brown skin had lost its healthy color.


    Finally, we reached the deck.


    Dawn was breaking.


    When we went up the deck last night, the deep darkness prevented us from seeing anything. But now, the pearly light of dawn from the eastern skies was shining on the deck. Waves rolled gently on the gray sea.


    Legs shaking and covered in blood, we headed to the radio room, one step at a time.


    When we opened the door, white smoke was rising to the ceiling, obstructing our vision like a fog.


    The people in the room¡ªnine grown men¡ªall turned to us simultaneously.


    Some were playing card games. Some smoked cigars. Some were looking down at their books.


    Wisps of white smoke rose from the cigar to the ceiling.


    When the men saw us, their mouths dropped open. Then they shouted in unison.


    ¡°Where are you from?!¡±


    ¡°Tell me your nationality! Who died?! Where were they from?!¡±


    ¡°This one¡¯s from Sauville! Where are the Allies?!¡±


    They grabbed us by the shoulders and shook us.


    A man who had been drinking brandy stood up. He was relatively younger than the rest, seemingly in his mid-thirties.


    He grabbed the arm of an elderly gentleman. ¡°Now, now. First, we must applaud their efforts.¡±


    ¡°Maurice¡­¡±


    ¡°Come on.¡±


    The man called Maurice regarded us as we stood there dumbfounded. He raised both arms and put his palms together.


    ¡°Welcome, brave Hares!¡±


    The other men followed his lead and started clapping as well.


    Their smiles almost drove me mad.


    As soon as I relaxed a little, Lee fell from my back. ¡°Lee!¡± I called, bending down.


    One man looked at us. He studied Lee¡¯s black hair and brown skin.


    The man snorted. ¡°Arabian, huh?¡± he said, kicking Lee.


    I screamed out. Lee wasn¡¯t moving. Maybe she was really dead.


    I squeezed the heart-shaped pendant in my pocket tight. Tears welled up in my eyes.


    The men studied us.


    ¡°I trust the English one is alive?¡±


    ¡°Of course. He¡¯s a Hound. He came back alive.¡±


    ¡°As for the rest¡­ France, Italy, the US, and Sauville.¡±


    They exchanged looks and nodded.


    There was a creepy person in the back of the room, sitting in a wheelchair. Their head was covered with a red cloth. Wrinkled skin hid half of their eyes.


    It was an old woman.


    In front of her lay a silver jar, a copper jar, and a glass jar. She grabbed a golden hand mirror with her wrinkled hands.


    ¡°A young man will soon die¡­¡± Her voice was soft.


    The men turned around. ¡°Madame Roxane!¡±


    ¡°It will be the beginning of everything,¡± she continued. ¡°The world will turn to stone and start to tumble.¡±


    The room fell silent.


    ¡°Fulfill the prophecy. If you do, this country will prosper.¡±


    ¡°Understood!¡± The men bowed.


    I was petrified and confused.


    Prophecy? What is she talking about?


    Eventually, the old woman shook her head. ¡°The Running of the Hares ends here!¡± she declared in a hoarse voice. ¡°Sink the box immediately. And fatten up the Hares!¡±


    Chapter 6: Never Let Go


    Julie finished her long confession.


    The room was still and quiet.


    Two thin wisps of white smoke rose to the ceiling from the pipes in Victorique¡¯s and Inspector Blois¡¯ hands. No one said a word.


    ¡°I never knew why they did it,¡± Julie finally muttered. ¡°It was hard. Victorique, the little detective. Perhaps you can shed a light on the matter?¡±


    Kazuya raised his head. Julie was biting her lip as she stared at Victorique.


    Kazuya glanced at Victorique¡¯s face. She seemed to have finished reconstructing the fragments of chaos and was pondering over how to verbalize it.


    Inspector Blois¡¯ brain had reached full capacity. He was watching a small bird fly past outside the window with a distant look in his eyes. The tips of his pointy blond hair glittered under the golden morning sunlight pouring through the window. He had removed the pipe from his mouth; it was smoldering in the hand of the pensive inspector, seemingly forgotten.


    Slowly, carefully, Victorique opened her mouth. ¡°I think it was a large-scale divination.¡±


    ¡°A divination?!¡± Julie snapped. She shook her head. ¡°So many kids died. The ship sank. All for a divination? A divination for what? How? It must¡¯ve cost a lot too.¡±


    ¡°Kujou, I¡¯ve explained it to you before.¡±


    Kazuya jumped. ¡°Wh-What?¡±


    ¡°Ancient divination. Specifically, rhabdomancy, as performed by the prophet Moses.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yeah. I think you did.¡±


    ¡°In order to know from which tribe the future leader of the Israelites would be born, he prepared twelve sticks with the name of each tribe on them. The fate of those sticks determined the fate of the tribe.¡±


    ¡°Ahuh¡­¡±


    ¡°Roxane the fortune-teller kept Hares in her garden. Sometimes, she would set a Hound loose on them. Some are killed and some survive. The survivors are fattened up and raised with care.¡± Victorique paused. Julie¡¯s face grew darker and darker. ¡°I believe Roxane used Hares for divination. Each one was given the name of the person to be divined and they were released among hounds. She told the future based on which Hares survived.¡±


    ¡°Are you telling me that the Hares were us?¡±


    Victorique nodded.


    ¡°But why? We¡¯re not hares, we¡¯re humans.¡±


    ¡°We can assume that a large-scale divination of the future was necessary, the kind that¡¯s never been done before that. Data can be analyzed from several fragments of chaos. Eleven orphans of different nationalities gathered from all over the world. Roxane¡¯s words: ¡®A young man will soon die. It will be the beginning of everything. The world will turn to stone and start to tumble.¡¯ The remark of a man who was present: ¡®Where are the Allies? Huey¡¯s words, ¡®What happened here is the future. It¡¯s your nationality that matters.''¡± She dropped her voice. ¡°And it happened ten years ago, in the spring of 1914.¡±


    Kazuya let out a yelp. They all looked at him, and he quickly said, ¡°U-Uh, sorry. There was the Sarajevo Incident in June ten years ago that sparked the world war. It¡¯s probably unrelated, right?¡±


    ¡°But it is. That is, in fact, the answer.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?!¡± Julie demanded.


    At the end of June 1914, the heir to the Austrian throne was assassinated in Sarajevo. The Serbian government, with the support of other states, denied Austria¡¯s demand for the extradition of the assassin. Austria-Hungary, Germany, and other countries joined together to start a war. Russia, France, and Britain fought against them, and the war soon expanded globally.


    ¡°We can only speculate now, though,¡± Victorique added. ¡°I think that, ten years ago, government officials who sensed a foul atmosphere brewing over the world used a famous fortune-teller to know the future. They set up a large stage, a box called the Queen Berry, and released Hares from all over the world inside. An English boy played the role of the Hound. Inside the box full of traps, the boys and girls carried the future of their respective countries on their shoulders.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s absurd!¡±


    ¡°The divination came true.¡± Victorique brushed back her hair. ¡°Recall the world war. Hey, mediocre egghead Kujou.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?!¡±


    ¡°Tell us the outcome of the war.¡±


    Confused, Kazuya reluctantly spoke. ¡°The World war was fought between the Central Powers and the Allied Powers. It ended with the victory of the Allies. The Central Powers were comprised of Germany, Austria-Hungary, and Turkey¡­¡±


    ¡°And the Allies?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­ France, Italy, Britain, the United States, and Sauville¡­¡±


    Victorique stared at Julie. There was no expression in her eyes.


    Julie was biting her lip hard. ¡°It can¡¯t be¡­¡±


    ¡°The divination came true.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°In that ship, the kids ended up in two groups, the Allies and the Central Powers. First, the Hungarian girl died in a trap, and the Turkish boy was shot dead. And the British boy survived by using deceit. Yes, the British were the tricksters of that war. The German and Austrian boys also died, and the Chinese boy was gunned down. And the Arab girl¡­¡±


    ¡°Lee¡­!¡±


    ¡°The Arabs got caught up in the war. They lost part of their territory and were left in tatters.¡±


    Julie was crying now. Watching her, Victorique looked a little troubled. She took out an expensive-looking handkerchief from her pocket and gingerly handed it to her. After Julie wiped her tears, Victorique looked somewhat relieved.


    ¡°So they based their subsequent political activities on our actions that night,¡± Julie said, sniffing.


    ¡°Yes.¡± Victorique nodded. ¡°Sauville joined the World War on the side of the Allies. History was set in motion. It¡¯s hard to say how much of this was coincidence and how much was inevitable now that Roxane and the others involved are dead, but the divination came true. Of course, only subjectively, not objectively. Needless to say, the results of the large-scale divination, the Running of the Hares, served as a device for the politicians, aristocrats, and foreign officials to avoid responsibility.¡±


    Julie lifted her head. ¡°That¡¯s just horrible.¡±


    Slowly, she started to talk about herself. Unable to recover from the shock, she spent a long time in a sanatorium. When she finally calmed down and was released, she began looking into what happened back then.


    Some of the surviving kids had committed suicide, while another was sentenced for murder. None of them were doing well. She didn¡¯t know if Lee was alive or dead. She thought that maybe she already died back at the radio room.


    The only one who was alive and well was Huey, who had changed his name to Ned Baxter. When she found an article about his success as a stage actor, she decided to add him to her list of targets for revenge.


    Ten years later.


    She had received a lot of money, presumably because of Roxane¡¯s advice to fatten them up. She used all of it to build a replica of the Queen Berry. After that, she sent out invitations.


    Her targets gathered. Except for Roxane, who had already been killed.


    The room was so calm and quiet that it was hard to believe they were talking about something depressing and gruesome. It was probably partly because Julie herself was calm as she talked.


    Julie looked up. ¡°Since when did you know it was me?¡±


    Victorique was silent for a while. ¡°I became sure when you shot Maurice. But I first suspected you right after we woke up in that lounge.¡±


    Julie was taken aback. ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°You were right next to the door. When you tried to open it, you made a fuss about it being locked. But when another man tried it, it opened easily. Then an arrow from a bow gun came flying and killed him.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°The door was never locked. The reason you made such a fuss about it being locked was to keep us in the room. You needed to rip off the wallpaper and show them the bloody words. To let them know what was going on. You decided to kill them afterwards. Am I wrong?¡±


    ¡°No¡­¡± Julie gazed at Victorique¡¯s small face.


    Victorique looked away first. ¡°I had no proof. It was mere speculation at that point in time.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­¡± Julie chuckled, then pointed at Kazuya. ¡°That¡¯s why you were holding this boy¡¯s hand so tightly. He was talking to me, not knowing that I was the culprit.¡±


    Victorique gave a grunt.


    ¡°You were being mean the whole time, but you never let go of his hand. You were so worried about him.¡±


    Victorique played dumb.


    Surprised, Kazuya eyed them both. He recalled the time they were running inside the ship. He was holding Victorique¡¯s hands to protect her, but he wondered if Victorique herself was concerned about him.


    When it was time to leave the room, Julie mumbled, ¡°Little detective.¡±


    ¡°Please stop calling me that.¡±


    ¡°Oh, come on now. You know, when I first saw you, I thought you looked familiar.¡± Julie peered at Victorique¡¯s face. ¡°I remember now.¡±


    Inspector Blois, who was standing beside her, gave a jerk.


    ¡°From the sanatorium. I met a woman there who looked just like you. I wonder who that was.¡±


    For a split second, Victorique¡¯s green eyes widened. She shook her head. ¡°Who knows?¡±


    ¡°Your sister? Or perhaps¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    Victorique didn¡¯t answer. Instead, she waved Julie goodbye.


    The interrogation had ended.


    They exited the room into the hallway. Uniformed officers and men who looked like detectives streamed past the wide corridors. Occasionally, they would glance back at Kazuya and Victorique, wondering what children were doing in a police station.


    When they turned the corner, two men wearing hunting caps came running toward them. Inspector Blois stopped.


    ¡°Inspector,¡± one said.


    ¡°We just received information,¡± the other added.


    They were swinging their linked arms.


    ¡°The maid who killed Roxane has been caught.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s being brought in now. Oh, look, here she comes!¡±


    Julie Guile gulped as she looked at the direction he pointed at.


    Policemen were escorting a beautiful Arab woman from both sides. Her dark hair and supple, chocolate-colored skin glistened under the light in the hallway.


    When the woman looked up and saw Julie, she swallowed too.


    Both of them had grown up; they looked so different now. But when they looked into each other¡¯s eyes, they found the same sparkle from back then.


    ¡°Lee¡­ is that you?¡± Julie asked.


    Lee seemed in doubt as well. ¡°Alex?¡±


    Their brief ten-year reunion ended as they passed each other in the hallway.


    ¡°Inspector, is she the one who killed Roxane?¡± Julie asked as she watched Lee go.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­ After ten years, you got your revenge too.¡±


    Julie put her hand on her neck and grasped the heart-shaped pendant. She had kept it safe for the past ten years. Lee¡¯s lucky charm. She had treasured it. She returned to the stairs to retrieve it and give it back to her, but she wasn¡¯t able to. She pulled the pendant from her neck.


    ¡°Lee!¡± Julie tossed the pendant in the air.


    Lee turned around. She shook off the officers¡¯ hands, stretched her arm out, and caught the pendant.


    ¡°I¡¯m returning your lucky charm,¡± Julie said.


    Lee, who did not understand the language, nodded. She raised one hand and made a small waving gesture, before being taken by the cops. They then turned the corner, and disappeared.


    Julie Guile stood there for a while, staring at the empty hallway.

 Volume 1 - Epilogue

    prelude ¡ª the grim reaper discovers a golden flower


    [1]


    Winter 1922¡ª


    The setting sun cast a dark shadow on the the plate-glass windows of a timeworn castle, veiled by curtains of Gobelins tapestry.


    The pale moon rising in the western sky highlighted the features of this fortress shaped like a huge lump of stone¡ªCastle de Blois. The sharply-outlined silhouette of the tall spire, with its overhanging window and elegant entrance, resembled an enormous woodblock print composed only in black and white.


    The winters of Western Europe are cold. And how much more so if spent in an ancient stone castle, towering deep in the forest for centuries on end¡­


    The gardens that ringed the perimeter of the castle had been skillfully maintained by master gardeners summoned from the capital of Sauvr¨¨me. But now, in the dead of winter, they were merely a wan shadow of their former glory, fringed by the coppery brown branches of beech trees and bare rose bushes quaking unsteadily in the snow, swallowed up by the bleak twilight.


    The chill of winter spread throughout the approaching darkness.


    *****


    Groups of young maids, dressed in uniforms of white and dark blue, elderly butlers standing at attention, young male servants in dapper uniforms, and heavyset cooks came scrambling out of the castle and stood in a line, all looking up at the same spot. They clasped their hands to their chests and huddled together shoulder to shoulder, in fear of what they saw.


    Various legends had circulated in speculation of what exactly was contained in the dark recesses of the tapered, eerie-looking tower at Castle de Blois. Over the course of the castle¡¯s long history, that tower had been implicated in many tragedies, atrocities, and conspiracies that had taken place during periods of conflict in medieval times.


    Everyone was now staring up at the spire, their breath stifled, their faces taut.


    Their eyes were fixed upon something being carefully lowered onto a large carriage waiting below.


    A box, looking much like a cage.


    No¡ªit was indeed a cage.


    That bulky object, draped with a Persian rug the color of cream dappled with green, was slowly descending from the top of the tower. It seemed to be carrying a wild animal, for it periodically emitted a low moaning cry¡ªow-ooo!


    A wintry gust of wind blew flakes of snow.


    The box swung wildly from side to side, causing the masses of servants who had been gazing up at it to simultaneously take a cringing step backward.


    Ow-ooo¡­


    Ow-ooooo¡­


    The beast let out a mournful wail from inside the cage, shrouded by the Persian rug. Each time it was rattled by the piercingly cold wind, the animal inside howled sorrowfully, wretchedly at the night sky.


    ¡°Oh!¡±


    A young lady-in-waiting, her cheeks still round and rosy, could contain herself no more, and darted toward the wildly-swaying cage.


    But a plump middle-aged chambermaid threw her arms around her and held her in place. ¡°You mustn¡¯t. That thing is out of your hands now.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s over now.¡± The chambermaid¡¯s large, fleshy body trembled as she spoke.


    An elderly butler approached them, a frown deepening the wrinkles on his brow. ¡°That thing will soon be on its way. Don¡¯t do anything rash.¡±


    ¡°But¡­!¡±


    ¡°That beast will be gone from here. Soon we shall live in peace and quiet again.¡±


    The other servants nodded in agreement with the butler¡¯s words. The lady-in-waiting turned to look at the cage, her face crumpling, holding back tears.


    The cage landed on a platform attached to the large, black carriage. This time, the creature inside the cage did not cry out, perhaps frightened by the sudden jolt.


    The coachman gave a nod, his face twitching in fear.


    He cracked his black whip, and the imposing, dark-colored horses responded with a shrill whinny. With a startled kick of their forelegs, they burst into a run down the gravel road.


    The large black carriage, carrying the ominous-looking cage, withdrew from Castle de Blois and disappeared into the forest¡­.


    The assembled servants breathed a sigh of relief, then departed the garden one by one to go back to their various posts. The chambermaid affectionately thumped the lady-in-waiting¡¯s shoulder, and walked off.


    The girl lingered alone in the garden. ¡°Why¡­?¡± she whispered softly.


    And then she too walked slowly away, returning to her assigned place. From tonight, she would be starting in a new position, and could not neglect her duties. There was no time to wallow in her grief. She was responsible for supporting her young brothers and sisters, and had no choice but to work.


    ¡°But¡­¡±


    She slowed to a halt, and looked up at the tapered, menacing spire, now devoid of any living soul.


    And she thought of those days when she was tasked with delivering three certain things to the room at the top of that tower¡­.


    The girl started to walk again. ¡°That grey wolf was human¡­.¡± she murmured to herself.


    A wintry gale blew past.


    Snowflakes swirled into the air, swallowing up her whispering voice¡­.


    ¡°A terrifying human¡­!¡±


    [2]


    At St. Marguerite¡¯s School, on a morning in the dead of winter¡­


    It was the morning after that night in the desolate garden at Castle de Blois, a stone fortress that had stood surrounded by the dark forest for centuries, when an eerie-looking box had been hitched to a carriage and then vanished into the woods.


    The carriage headed toward St. Marguerite¡¯s School, a distinguished institution that boasted a long history of educating the children of the aristocracy. It was located on a sprawling campus, preserved since medieval times, near a village on the gently sloping foothills of the Alps. In that school, a young teacher was sitting nervously, waiting to welcome an unusual guest.


    On the first floor of the school building, built in the shape of the letter U, was a parlor lavishly furnished for the purpose of greeting noble visitors. A middle-aged man entered the room and sat upon an elegantly crafted chair, engraved with a motif of intertwining leaves, in the corner furthest away from the windows. A young woman sat down on a plain school-issued chair in front of him. The two of them faced each other silently.


    The woman bore such a youthful-looking face that she could have been mistaken for one of her students. She had wide drooping brown eyes behind large round glasses, and wavy brunette hair that curled down to her shoulders.


    This teacher¡¯s name was C¨¦cile, and she had been a student at this school only a few years before. She was still young and inexperienced, but also quite popular with her students.


    Her large eyes were opened wide in fear as she gazed at the man before her. He was a frightening, and yet beautiful man, the likes of whom she had never encountered before. Sitting there in a dim corner of the room, he seemed to be shrouded in a heavy darkness despite the broad daylight outside.


    The man who sat on the delicately ornamented chair wore his glossy blond hair tied into a cascade that flowed down his back like a horse¡¯s tail, tight jodhpurs, and a blouse. With a thin riding crop gripped in his hand, the Marquis de Blois appeared every inch a nobleman, living up to the rumors that surrounded him. He was a mysterious and fearsome man, powerful even by the standards of the aristocracy, influential in the government, and someone who had played an important role in the Great War.


    The Marquis wore a monocle of high magnification on his right eye, disfiguring his uncommonly handsome face. The view of his green eye through the monocle, ornamented with silver, appeared strangely distorted. The lens was far too thick, making his menacing right eye appear oddly magnified next to the left one. The pupil seemed to pop out, like a ghost jumping at C¨¦cile. As she gazed at him timorously, she could do nothing but merely sit in her chair, not daring to say a word.


    ¡°¡­Mademoiselle.¡±


    The intimidating nobleman at last spoke. His eye, magnified under the monocle, narrowed slightly.


    ¡°Y-yes, sir,¡± answered C¨¦cile in a strained voice.


    ¡°Have you ever owned any animals?¡±


    ¡°¡­Animals?¡± C¨¦cile repeated, bewildered. Memories of her childhood flashed through her mind. ¡°Let¡¯s see, I had a dog, a bird, and then a snake that I had to get rid of. It made my mama faint and she told my papa to throw it out. Also, a cat. And then, uh¡­¡±


    As she counted on her fingers, she was impatiently interrupted by the marquis. ¡°That¡¯s enough.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°I want you to look after a wolf.¡±


    C¨¦cile stared at him, dumbfounded. ¡°A ¡­ wolf?¡±


    The marquis chuckled. ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± Behind his monocle, his green eye suddenly opened wide. ¡°A tiny, little wolf.¡± He handed a stack of papers to C¨¦cile. ¡°I¡¯m talking about this girl.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­?¡± C¨¦cile answered, still confused.


    And then she took a look at the papers in her hands.


    She was holding a dossier of the daughter of the Marquis de Blois, a twelve year old girl. An application for enrollment of a new student had arrived last night, and C¨¦cile had naturally reviewed it that same night¡ªthe application of the youngest child of the House de Blois, Victorique de Blois. She had apparently never attended school in her life. But this in itself was not unusual among the children of the aristocracy. It was common for such families to retain a private tutor.


    The problem was¡­


    She had only been brought to the school last night, or rather at daybreak, and no one had yet caught a glimpse of her. Moreover, there was not even a single photograph attached to this file. C¨¦cile wondered if there was something possibly wrong with this girl. Even so, there was one thing she wanted to set straight.


    ¡°Your jokes have gone too far, my lord.¡±


    The marquis¡¯ eye behind the lens narrowed to a thin line, perhaps out of surprise at C¨¦cile¡¯s solemn reproach.


    ¡°¡­What did you say?¡±


    ¡°How can you refer to your daughter as if she¡¯s an animal? As an educator, I don¡¯t feel this is proper.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡± The marquis sneered at her righteous indignation, then stood up. ¡°I don¡¯t give a damn what your feelings are,¡± he said cuttingly, towering over her with a malevolent, disquieting energy. C¨¦cile instinctively rose from her chair and took a step back.


    He grinned, and brought his face close to hers as she trembled in fright. ¡°You may be a working woman now, but from what I¡¯ve heard, you used to be the daughter of a nobleman. And so I will leave you, my lady, with a word of advice. My daughter is a beast. A legendary beast. Don¡¯t try your luck, if you value your life.¡±


    ¡°A-are you threatening me?¡±


    ¡°Make no mistake. It¡¯s not my anger that will shorten your life. My daughter is a beast. I suggest you avoid any foolish missteps, unless you want your throat torn out by a wolf. You should give it no more than the barest of necessities, and keep a safe distance at all other times.¡±


    ¡°A safe distance¡­?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t go near that thing. Don¡¯t let anyone go near that thing. It¡¯s dangerous. Now, hear that? Somewhere out there¡­¡±


    The marquis narrowed his eye behind the lens in an expression of apprehension. But his pale, thin lips were holding back laughter, as if he found something unbearably funny.


    ¡°The animals are howling!¡±


    Although it had been a pleasant winter¡¯s morning, the sky was steadily growing darker. Somewhere a dog was barking in a thin, fretful voice. A flock of birds flew away all at once, seemingly startled by something. Their wings rustled unnervingly as they faded into the distance.


    ¡°They sensed it arriving!¡±


    ¡°S-sensed what?¡±


    ¡°That thing. That beast. Yes, and like those animals, the world will soon awaken to that thing¡¯s existence. Oh, yes, and when they do, they will wish they could fly at once from the face of Europe, just like those fearful birds just did. As will that worthless new breed of human in the New World, too!¡±


    ¡°M-my lord?¡±


    The parlor fell back into silence. The marquis returned to his senses, and covered his face.


    And then he turned to C¨¦cile, who looked up at him in terror from behind her round glasses, and moved that pale, beautiful face of his close to hers.


    ¡°There are only three things that you must absolutely provide. A lady-in-waiting delivered these things while it was still in the tower, but from now on, this daily task shall fall upon you, my lady.¡±


    ¡°Wh-what are those things?¡±


    ¡°The first one is¡­¡±


    The marquis narrowed his eyes.


    The sound of birds flying away echoed again from the outside. On that peculiar morning, it felt as if all the animals of the school were attempting to flee, as if the natural world had been thrown into an uproar¡­.


    The Marquis de Blois murmured in a low voice. ¡°The first one ¡­ is books!¡±


    [3]


    As soon as the Marquis de Blois had left, the winter morning sky over the campus returned to its previously sunny and crisp state. Sunlight shone from the French windows into the parlor that had been buried in darkness, and the cries of songbirds echoed in the distance.


    C¨¦cile heaved a great sigh. Her tensed muscles loosened, and the smile returned unbidden to her youthful face.


    ¡°Oh, that was a shock. I had wondered what it would be like to meet a famous marquis like him, but to think he was such a terrifying person!¡± she whispered to herself while assembling her documents and walking out of the room.


    Students were running up and down the hallway. As they passed by C¨¦cile, the young aristocrats greeted her with a polite, but cheerful, ¡°Miss C¨¦cile, good morning!¡± She answered them with a smile, but from time to time would look down at her feet uneasily.


    I wonder what kind of girl she is. Her own father called her a wolf. What on earth¡­


    A few minutes later, C¨¦cile would find the answer to her question.


    *****


    Freshly-cut grass, delicately-ornamented fountains, and enormous, clearly artificial-looking flower gardens dotted the exquisite French-style garden that took up most of the campus. During springtime, squirrels would climb and dart between the benches and gazebos placed at strategic intervals, but now they were hidden, luxuriating in their hibernation in the distant forests.


    A small building, only a few months old, stood deep in the gardens.


    It was a colorful, and yet somehow odd-looking building, that resembled a gingerbread house out of a fairytale. That tiny house, with its first and second floors connected by a winding iron staircase, appeared slightly too small for any human to be living there. It was truly peculiar-looking, and seemed to have been constructed according to measurements that were miniaturized from their proper size¡­.


    C¨¦cile walked up to the small entrance, and carefully put her hand on the doorknob, whose aspect brought to mind the aroma of a freshly-baked muffin. It felt cool to the touch, chilled by the winter air. She squeaked in surprise at the sudden sensation, then collected herself, and turned the cold doorknob.


    The interior of the gingerbread house¡ªa villa hastily built for the daughter of the de Blois family, in accordance with their instructions¡ªwas permeated with a funereal darkness that put to shame the negative atmosphere in the parlor earlier. The air felt suffocating, as if draped by a dark, heavy shroud that was closing in on C¨¦cile little by little. She gulped, and then slowly stepped into the darkness.


    The inside of the house was crammed full of dainty furniture that appeared slightly shrunken down from normal proportions. There was a small chest bedecked with gleaming enamel embellishments, a green claw foot table covered by a charmingly-embroidered tablecloth and cluttered with small silverware, and a rocking chair sitting beside the window. But the tiny resident of the villa, the youngest daughter of the House de Blois¡ªVictorique de Blois¡ªwas nowhere in sight.


    Darkness crept through the house.


    Sensing an intruder, the darkness languidly turned to regard C¨¦cile, looming over her as if about to swallow her. C¨¦cile¡¯s feet became rooted to the spot, unable to move. She narrowed her hazel eyes¡ªand then caught sight of something amassed in another room beyond the darkness.


    That something did not seem to fit with the rest of the cutely-decorated house.


    It evoked a feeling of violent dissonance.


    ¡­She laid her eyes upon mountains of books stacked high in immense numbers.


    The heavy, leather-bound books were heaped into many piles, crowding out the air with smothering knowledge. There were books of medieval religion written in Latin, mathematics, chemistry, history ¡­ all books that looked so difficult that even C¨¦cile as a teacher would have felt reluctant to read them.


    That sinister voice of the Marquis de Blois echoed in C¨¦cile¡¯s ears.


    The first one is ¡­ books!


    That meant the daughter of the marquis was somewhere in this darkness. C¨¦cile swallowed nervously, then took a determined step into the gloom.


    As she did so, she felt herself step on something. It made a dry crunching sound.


    C¨¦cile cautiously lifted her foot, then bent down to take a look at what she had stepped on. Her eyes crossed inadvertently.


    Dusted liberally with powdered cinnamon, it was in fact ¡­ a delectable macaron.


    With a look of doubt upon her face, she squinted at the area beyond the darkness.


    There were macarons, chocolate bonbons, and candies in the shape of animals scattered all over the floor, radiating in a circle around a shadowed figure. C¨¦cile stood up, and remembered the voice of the marquis.


    The second one is sweets!


    And the third one is¡­


    Stepping into the darkness, C¨¦cile absentmindedly spoke aloud the word running through her head.


    ¡°Frills!¡±


    Beyond the darkness was yet more darkness. She felt a negative force as strong as what she had earlier encountered with the marquis¡ªno, much stronger. Seized by terror, she could not make a sound. She stood gazing into an abyss of true darkness, heavy and black, as if the gates of hell had been opened in that very spot.


    C¨¦cile halted, her legs trembling uncontrollably.


    The figure in the darkness was staring steadily at her.


    C¨¦cile closed her eyes, and pricked her ears. She could hear a faint rustling sound. Whatever was there had noticed her presence, and had slowly begun to move. In her mind, she contemplated the image that remained from that split-second glimpse. Just as the Marquis de Blois had said, this was ¡­ this fearsome creature was¡­


    ¡­enveloped in endless layers of white, luxurious frills.


    C¨¦cile slowly opened her eyes.


    The figure was right in front of her. C¨¦cile cried out in surprise.


    Every thought in her mind vanished in an instant¡ªthat this was the daughter of the Marquis de Blois, that she was one of the grey wolves spoken of in legends passed down in this country for centuries, this unsettling darkness. Sitting before her, looking up at her with narrowed green eyes¡­


    ¡­was a magnificent porcelain doll.


    Silken blond hair, flowing down to the floor in a shining cascade, like a velvet turban come undone. Small rosy cheeks. Emerald green eyes that glittered like precious stones. Her sumptuous dress, bedecked in French lace the color of ebony and countless layers of three-tiered white frills. A miniature top hat ornamented with coral sat upon her small head like a crown.


    That porcelain doll¡ªno, that tiny girl who looked like a doll, was lying upon the floor, her arms and legs sprawled out, her face remarkably expressionless and dispassionate, looking much like a discarded toy. The only movement came from one of her small feet, clad in lace-up shoes. It twitched once, then stilled.


    The girl¡ªVictorique de Blois¡ªsuddenly opened her green eyes, and gave C¨¦cile an intense stare.


    C¨¦cile nervously opened her mouth, feeling as if she ought to say something. But her throat was dry, and she could not find the words.


    Several moments passed.


    Finally, the girl parted her small, cherry-red lips in an unnaturally abrupt movement, like a marionette with its strings being pulled.


    ¡°Who the devil are you?¡±


    C¨¦cile gasped. That voice was at startling variance with the girl¡¯s appearance, which reminded her of an ethereally lovely porcelain doll. It was a low, hoarse, melancholy voice, and made her sound like an old woman¡­.


    However, that strange voice was perhaps curiously befitting to the ineffable quality of light reflected in her green eyes¡ªsomehow sorrowful, and quiet, like that of an aged person who had already lived for a hundred years. C¨¦cile was speechless with awe. And then she found herself once again overcome with fear as Victorique stirred slightly. In that moment, C¨¦cile felt unease grip her heart, intuitively understanding what it must feel like to be a small animal in the sights of a predator.


    ¡°Are you my enemy?¡±


    The husky voice asked her again. Handfuls of white frills made a crinkling sound, as if annoyed at C¨¦cile¡¯s terrified inability to answer.


    C¨¦cile shook her head violently, still unable to manage even a single word.


    At last she regained her faculty of speech, and whispered in a trembling voice, ¡°A-are you a doll¡­?¡±


    Hearing this, Victorique¡¯s eyes began to gleam dangerously. The greenness of her eyes seemed to intensify with her anger. ¡°How rude!¡±


    ¡°Uh, um¡­¡±


    ¡°My name is Victorique de Blois. I am a fully-fledged human being!¡±


    ¡°Okay, uh¡­¡±


    When C¨¦cile attempted to speak again, what came from her lips was instead a shriek. Victorique had lifted up a heavy book with her small hands and thrown it at her. C¨¦cile cowered as the book hit the wall with a heavy thud and slid down to the floor.


    The room fell back into silence.


    Victorique howled like a wild animal, her small body shaking all over. C¨¦cile uttered a shrill scream, but it was drowned out by Victorique¡¯s howls. At last C¨¦cile deciphered the words hidden in her wails.


    The little beast was crying out, ¡°I¡¯m bored!¡±


    ¡°Wh-why¡­?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve already read all of the books here. I need more. Lots more. Bring them to me. Bring me books. I¡¯m bored. I¡¯m so bored!¡±


    C¨¦cile turned her back on the terrifying girl, and ran away. She fled from the darkness, tripping over her own feet, escaping that house that looked like a toy dollhouse.


    She timidly looked back. The howling had stopped, and now all she saw was merely a small, quaint gingerbread house, sitting by itself, looking lonesome.


    C¨¦cile fell to the ground in a stupor. Warm rays of sunlight radiated down upon her from the clear winter sky.


    ¡°Ouch, my back¡­!¡±


    One month later, the long European winter was finally approaching its end, and people were starting to shed layers of clothing one by one. A giddiness in anticipation of Easter holidays had begun to infect students and teachers alike, lending a joyful air to the season.


    C¨¦cile thumped the small of her back with a rounded fist and staggered to a faculty room in the center of the U-shaped main building.


    An elderly teacher, who had been teaching at the school ever since C¨¦cile was a student, was already sitting inside. He smiled at C¨¦cile. ¡°You look about ready to collapse. What¡¯s the matter? Getting a little old for this, are we?¡±


    ¡°Not right now, please¡­¡± C¨¦cile stumbled to her own seat and slumped onto the desk.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± the old teacher asked, a touch of concern in his voice.


    ¡°No, nothing. It¡¯s just¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just?¡±


    ¡°Those books were so very heavy.¡±


    The old teacher suddenly rose from his chair, preparing to flee the room. ¡°Oh, so you mean¡­ Well, it¡¯s probably best if you ask one of the female teachers, especially one of the younger ones with more energy. Ha-ha!¡±


    C¨¦cile glared at him balefully. ¡°I said, they were really very heavy!¡±


    ¡°Well, good luck!¡±


    ¡°Argh¡­¡±


    Every day for the past month, from sunup to sundown, C¨¦cile had walked to St. Marguerite¡¯s Library to collect enormous quantities of books, then delivered them to that dollhouse, repeating the process over and over again. The student who lived there, the mysterious Grey Wolf Victorique, had not bothered to attend class even once, and had said nothing to C¨¦cile other than ordering her to bring her books¡ªbooks, sweets, and frilly dresses. Victorique¡¯s basic living needs were clearly different from that of the average person.


    C¨¦cile, for her part, had grown slightly more used to the sound of that intimidating, husky voice in the inky darkness. But as for that girl herself, it was a different story. Even when C¨¦cile tried talking to her, she hardly ever responded. C¨¦cile realized it wasn¡¯t that the girl was ignoring her deliberately, but rather that Victorique possessed not the slightest bit of interest in other people. It was as if she had caged a wild little wolf that was not at all used to being kept by a human being.


    C¨¦cile could only keep praying that the wolf would at least not weaken and die¡­ And that was all she could do.


    *****


    And so several months passed.


    The season shifted into the warm days of spring. Colorful flowers blossomed all over campus, and the trees grew thick with rich green leaves, transforming the gardens into a landscape completely different from the bleakness of the previous winter.


    Before she knew it, C¨¦cile had grown accustomed to caring for the strange little girl, who spoke not a single word and treated her as if she didn¡¯t exist. Nevertheless, she continued to spend her days quietly delivering those three sets of things to the gingerbread house during her breaks from work. And all the while, she thought about that solitary, fearsome wolf cub, as if she were a little rose thorn that had pricked the palm of C¨¦cile¡¯s hand.


    Feelings of worry for Victorique never ceased to occupy a corner of her heart.


    [5]


    At sundown, it was part of C¨¦cile¡¯s daily routine to return to the spartan teachers¡¯ dormitory, located behind the chapel in an inconspicuous corner of the expansive campus. In contrast to the luxurious buildings elsewhere on campus, which were elegantly furnished in oak for the use of the aristocratic students, the teachers lived in plain box-like structures built in extremely spartan style without any excess ornamentation.


    The faculty quarters were separated into male and female dormitories. Spacious rooms large enough for a family were located on the second floor of the male dormitory. A small pond lay in between the two square buildings, and every springtime, small birds would go there to visit, resting their tired wings on the way back north from their yearly migrations.


    C¨¦cile and her fellow teachers enjoyed leaving breadcrumbs in the pond to feed the birds. This served as a placid, calming ritual to signify the advent of spring¡­.


    *****


    On one particular night, C¨¦cile finished her day¡¯s work and came back to the dormitory. As she rubbed her constantly aching back, she tossed breadcrumbs into the pond as usual, and flipped through the pages of the ladies¡¯ magazines she subscribed to, all while massaging small circles into her skin. She began chatting with a friend from her school days who lived in the room next to hers.


    ¡°I hear that the music teacher, Mr. Jenkins, has taken rather poorly lately,¡± her friend said.


    C¨¦cile made a sympathetic murmur in reply to her friend¡¯s gossip.


    Mr. Jenkins had been the music teacher ever since C¨¦cile had been a student, and he was getting up in years. His health had declined, and he had recently been admitted to a hospital in Sauvr¨¨me, the capital of Sauvure.


    ¡°Once Mr. Jenkins dies, there won¡¯t be anyone left to play that harp.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right¡­¡± C¨¦cile couldn¡¯t help nodding at the sound of her friend¡¯s somber tone. Mr. Jenkins was a talented harpist, and on weekend evenings would often invite other teachers to his and his wife¡¯s room on the second floor and treat them to a fine tea party.


    Oh, Mrs. Jenkins made some delicious milk tea, and those baked scones¡­. C¨¦cile sighed wistfully. And then those sandwiches with salmon and fluffy cream cheese. And her cherry cake¡­


    Realizing the direction her thoughts were taking, she blushed to herself. No, no, his harp performance. Right, I should think about that instead. ¡­And those scones piled high with blackcurrant jam and clotted cream¡ªno, not about that!


    C¨¦cile struggled to banish the thought of a between-meal snack from her mind as she relieved her nostalgic memories.


    ¡°But either way, Mr. Jenkins will probably never perform again,¡± continued her friend.


    ¡°Are you sure?!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s because I heard that a new music teacher will be coming here next week. I hope it¡¯s another good one.¡±


    Now feeling truly contrite, C¨¦cile thought of the kind Mr. Jenkins, who had always always been gracious to her in those days when she was a carefree student, even though her grades were not exactly the best. He was patient, taught the students to appreciate the beauty of the piano and of music, and was like a grandpa who always had a smile on his face¡­.


    *****


    C¨¦cile slept fitfully that night. She woke up the next day at her usual time, ate breakfast, and then headed to St. Marguerite¡¯s Library, her face clouded by worries and unhappy feelings.


    Unsure of which books to take with her, she picked out five appropriately heavy-looking tomes, and hefted them up in her arms with a grunt of exertion.


    Outside, a tiny bird tweeted a song in the sunshine.


    Under considerable physical strain, C¨¦cile walked to the gingerbread house as she already done many times before. Just as she was about to turn the doorknob, which was shaped like a small shortbread cookie, the door suddenly flew open from the inside. She cried out in surprise when a group of students¡ªblond-haired, blue-eyed children from aristocratic families¡ªburst out of the house at the same time, shouting, ¡°Whoa!¡±


    None of them bothered to pick up the books that C¨¦cile had dropped to the floor in her shock.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s you. Say, what¡¯s this building for? Why would someone build a dollhouse on campus?¡± asked one student.


    Several children crowded around C¨¦cile, who was gathering up her books from the ground . ¡°W-well¡­¡± she stuttered.


    ¡°It¡¯s full of books, and there¡¯s nobody around. It¡¯s creepy to have a dollhouse with no dolls in it.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nobody around?¡± C¨¦cile repeated. The students exchanged a look among themselves, then nodded.


    C¨¦cile felt her heart pounding in her chest. ¡°Come on, it¡¯s getting late. It¡¯s time to get back to the classroom,¡± she scolded, trying to project anger through her voice as she shooed them away. Then she rushed inside the house and closed the door behind her.


    There was nothing left but the sound of silence.


    The darkness writhed silently, closing in on C¨¦cile like a dark velvet blanket, just like it had every time she entered the house.


    She should have been used to this atmosphere by now, this thick, suffocating darkness.


    And beyond it¡­


    C¨¦cile breathed a sigh of relief.


    Beyond it, she saw that girl, like a porcelain doll, sitting in her usual position.


    She wore a lavish black and white dress, and a bonnet replete with floral-patterned lace upon her head. Her tiny feet were encased in leather boots fastened with fabric-covered buttons. Her long hair flowed down to the floor like melted gold, curling around her small body.


    ¡°So you were here after all.¡±


    Victorique betrayed not the slightest reaction to the sound of C¨¦cile¡¯s voice.


    ¡°Weren¡¯t there some students in here just now? They said there was no one inside.¡±


    ¡°¡­.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll leave your books here for you. Later on I¡¯ll bring some black tea, a soft-boiled egg, and cherry salad for your breakfast. ¡­Miss Victorique?¡±


    She heard no response.


    Victorique¡¯s face moved with the tiniest suggestion of a twitch, forming an annoyed frown. C¨¦cile sighed and quietly left the gingerbread house, but not before turning back to look at her one more time.


    A warm spring breeze blew. A sweet scent from the flowers outside tickled C¨¦cile¡¯s nostrils. As she walked briskly back to the school, she thought of that small girl who was confined inside her house, ignorant of the warmth of the spring breeze, or the sweetness of the flowers. The little rose thorn embedded in C¨¦cile¡¯s heart twisted inside of her again. She shook her head glumly, and hurried along the winding path through the gardens.


    *****


    And then one morning, several days later¡­


    It was that dazzling time of year when the sunlight grew warmer by the day, heralding the transition between the end of spring and the first days of summer.


    In the gardens, white butterflies danced upon flower buds as they bloomed open one by one¡­


    That morning, with one hand supporting her back, C¨¦cile walked into the faculty room. She sensed that she was a few minutes late when she happened to walk in on a middle-aged man being introduced to the other teachers. The new music teacher had arrived. He had graduated from a famous music college in Sauvr¨¨me, and by all appearances brimmed with confidence.


    Once they finished exchanging introductions, the new music teacher called out to C¨¦cile, who was preparing to run out of the room. He accompanied her as she rushed to her classroom, and questioned her about Mr. Jenkins. She replied by sharing her reminiscences about harp recitals and tea parties.


    ¡°Hmm, recitals. That sounds lovely,¡± the new teacher responded, making appropriate sounds of admiration.


    ¡°Yes, it really was. So everyone is really heartbroken to lose such a dear friend.¡±


    He nodded. ¡°I see. He must have been a fine person.¡±


    The moment he spoke, a strong gust of wind blew past them. It was the dry wind of early summer.


    C¨¦cile knitted her brows, and raised both hands to rearrange her large round glasses, which had been blown out of place.


    *****


    That evening, C¨¦cile once again left St. Marguerite¡¯s Library with a stack of books in her arms, grunting to herself as she made her way to the gingerbread house.


    When she opened the door, she ended up bumping into a student who was in the process of leaving.


    ¡°You¡¯re back here again, Miss C¨¦cile?¡± The student curiously eyed the stack of books C¨¦cile carried. Then she looked back inside, and glanced uneasily at the piles of heavy books which crammed the house in such tall stacks that they seemed to transform into extra walls.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s you.¡± C¨¦cile recognized the student, with her bright blond pigtails the color of wheat, as one of the girls in her homeroom class.


    The girl narrowed her eyes into thin slits. ¡°Why are you here again, Miss C¨¦cile?¡±


    This student had apparently come to the gingerbread house by herself today. C¨¦cile fell nervously silent, uncertain of how she should respond.


    The girl continued in an awed tone. ¡°It¡¯s a dollhouse with no dolls and no people¡ªexactly what I expected to find at a haunted school like St. Marguerite¡¯s!¡±


    ¡°Well, no, that¡¯s not exactly it¡ª¡± C¨¦cile stopped herself. ¡°¡­Wait. Did you say there¡¯s nobody here?¡±


    ¡°No, no one at all.¡± The girl yawned widely, apparently tired of investigating, and strutted out the door, sassily shaking her small behind from side to side.


    C¨¦cile lowered her books into the claw foot table, then went searching through the house. ¡°Miss Victorique!¡±


    She looked in the bedroom. But Victorique was not in the charmingly-decorated canopy bed, nor was she under it. C¨¦cile then raced up the spiral staircase and ran into the dressing room on the second floor. She parted the suffocatingly thick sea of white lace, pink frills, and black ribbons, in hopes of finding a tiny little girl hidden among them.


    ¡°Miss Victorique?! Where are you?¡±


    C¨¦cile systematically looked under tables, inside closets, and even under the cushions of the rocking chair, as if looking for a lost kitten.


    But Victorique was nowhere to be found.


    ¡°I guess you really aren¡¯t here, then¡­. Where could you be?¡±


    C¨¦cile sank down upon a rectangular chest nearby, exhausted from her search.


    The chest began to make a creaking noise.


    In between creaks, she heard a brief, low moan that was filled with deep displeasure.


    It came from under C¨¦cile¡¯s bottom.


    For a moment, an expression akin to that of a dove who had just been hit by buckshot appeared on C¨¦cile¡¯s face, her large drooping hazel eyes nearly crossing together.


    ¡°¡­Miss Victorique?¡±


    C¨¦cile slowly rose from the chest, then took a close look at it.


    Through a crack in the rectangular box, which looked too small for any person to fit inside, she caught a glimpse of something.


    Something white and fluffy¡­


    Frills, which were apparently in a very foul mood.


    C¨¦cile eyed the chest suspiciously, not wanting to believe what she saw. She slowly lifted the lid.


    Then¡­


    An exquisite porcelain doll¡ªno, a tiny, beautiful girl, enveloped in frills, lace, and calico ribbons¡ªsat inside, a highly aggrieved frown creasing her face. She held a book in her arms. A lollipop peeked out from her smooth, cherry-red lips.


    ¡°M-Miss Victorique¡­!¡± C¨¦cile cried out in horror. ¡°Wh-wh-why are you in a place like this again? This box is meant for storing clothes. It isn¡¯t somewhere for you to sit. Wait¡­ Um, Miss Victorique, might I ask¡­¡± C¨¦cile hesitated rather than continue with her next words.


    Victorique, looking very peeved, huddled motionlessly in a ball, like a wild animal whose pride had been hurt.


    Could it be that you were hiding¡­? C¨¦cile thought silently. Are you afraid of people? You are, aren¡¯t you¡­?


    Victorique sullenly pouted, and showed no signs of wanting to come out of the chest for the rest of the day.


    *****


    ¡°Hey, mister, have you been busy lately?¡±


    The sun was setting on a day close to the start of summer.


    While watching white-winged birds float on the surface of a pond in the gardens, C¨¦cile called out to a heavy-set old gardener who was hard at work.


    The grizzled old man, his large frame draped with a pair of overalls, answered gruffly. ¡°Yeah? What kind of question is that? Of course I¡¯ve been busy. Imagine if you were the one who had to look after this huge garden day after day. Huh?¡±


    Although he came from a humble background, C¨¦cile had known him ever since she was a schoolgirl, and considered him a friend. As the gardener continued to mumble under his breath about how busy he was, C¨¦cile pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and said, ¡°There¡¯s something I¡¯d like you to make for me.¡±


    ¡°Another toy boat or something, I¡¯ll bet. All you want is stuff that¡¯s a pain in the ass to make.¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t mean that. Actually, what I want is a flower garden.¡±


    ¡°A flower garden?!¡± the gardener repeated in bafflement. He paused in the middle of trimming a hedge, his enormous gardening shears halting in mid-movement. ¡°Where do you want it?¡±


    ¡°Well, you know that little gingerbread house that went up recently?¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°I want you to build a garden around it. You know, like a lot of estates had in the Middle Ages. A garden maze. Something that winds around and around, where only people who know the way can get in. That sort of thing.¡±


    ¡°A garden maze!¡± The old gardener rose to his feet. His body, like a small mountain, shook merrily. ¡°Hmm. Could be interesting. You¡¯re saying I could make it any way I want to?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡±


    ¡°All right, I¡¯ll do it.¡±


    C¨¦cile sighed in relief.


    And then she silently looked over her shoulder in the direction of the little house. A breeze was blowing, rustling the white flowers. The sun was setting, and the garden would soon be plunged into blackness. To C¨¦cile, it felt as if the darkness that had suffused the inside of that house had come to invade the outside world.


    The sky faded from twilight to nighttime.


    The pale moon rose in the eastern sky.


    *****


    With skillful hands, the old gardener began to plant a garden maze around the perimeter of the dollhouse.


    Geometrical patterns wove around and around the small house, and grew steadily taller, warding off any intrusions from curious students.


    And then, around that time¡­


    A certain incident occurred.


    In the men¡¯s faculty dormitory, opposite the women¡¯s dormitory where C¨¦cile stayed, Mr. Jenkins and his wife had left behind their things in their room on the second floor. In that lonely room, now sealed up and darkened, their belongings evoked the strong, lingering presence of those who had once lived there.


    And then, every night from that night onward, the harp in that room began to play a peculiar melody¡­.


    *****


    C¨¦cile was relaxing alone in her own room that night, filing her nails and shining her shoes. She found herself unable to quit after finishing with her own shoes, and decided to take it upon herself to polish the shoes of her friend living in the room next door. As she hummed while shining her shoes, suddenly she heard the faint sound of music being played invitingly from outside the window.


    ¡°Hmm?¡± C¨¦cile looked up, and strained to listen.


    But she heard only silence. She resumed her humming and shoe-shining.


    Then the music began to play again.


    ¡°Huh?¡± C¨¦cile jumped to her feet and opened the window.


    She took a look at the second-story window of the dormitory across the way. The lights were off in the room that had belonged to Mr. Jenkins, and it seemed to be empty. But she definitely heard the sound of¡­


    ¡°A harp!¡± A chill ran down her spine.


    C¨¦cile went to rouse her sleeping friend from her bed in the next room. Her friend woke up mumbling crankily, then threw on her coat over her nightgown and ran outside with her.


    ¡°So Mr. Jenkins came back!¡±


    ¡°No, I doubt it.¡±


    ¡°But I hear his harp being played!¡±


    ¡°In a dark room?¡±


    Her friend laughed. ¡°That sounds like something a ghost would do,¡± she replied absently. Then she caught herself and cried out, ¡°Eek!¡± and exchanged a look with C¨¦cile. ¡°A ghost¡­¡±


    ¡°C-can¡¯t be¡­¡± the two of them murmured, and shook their heads.


    ¡°That¡¯s impossible.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    They entered the men¡¯s dormitory and climbed up the stairs. They warily knocked on the door of Mr. Jenkins¡¯ room, but no one answered.


    The lights inside were turned off.


    All they could hear was the faltering melody of the harp.


    ¡°Mr. Jenkins? Sir?¡± they called out in unison.


    Before long, more people came investigate, and soon a crowd of teachers gathered around, loudly talking amongst themselves. As the harp continued to play, someone walked down to the office and retrieved the key to the room, then handed it to C¨¦cile.


    With quivering hands, she inserted the key into the lock, and hesitantly opened the door.


    ¡°Mr. Jenkins¡­?¡± she called out.


    There was no answer.


    The sound of the harp faded away.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t in this room, I¡¯m sure of it. Someone must¡¯ve been playing in another room,¡± one teacher muttered.


    C¨¦cile¡¯s friend stepped over the plush carpet and turned on a lamp in the middle of the room.


    The light bathed the room in a dim orange glow.


    There was no one inside.


    The crowd of onlookers simultaneously gasped. Her friend shrieked like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.


    ¡°What happened?!¡± yelled C¨¦cile in surprise.


    Her friend stretched out a trembling hand and pointed at the harp.


    C¨¦cile¡¯s eyes crossed. ¡°Oh!¡±


    The strings of the harp were faintly vibrating.


    As if someone had been sitting next to it and playing only moments ago.


    ¡°A¡ªa ghost!¡± screeched her friend. ¡°The ghost of Mr. Jenkins! His ghost was sitting right here, playing the harp. That must¡¯ve been him¡­.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s impossible!¡±


    ¡°Everyone loved his performances, so he wanted us to hear him play one last time. Mr. Jenkins! Oh, how tragic! Our kind Mr. Jenkins must no longer be with us!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t say that!¡±


    An uproar surged through the crowd of teachers.


    C¨¦cile elbowed her way through the throng and raced down the stairs. She picked up the telephone and dialed the operator to connect her with the hospital in Sauvr¨¨me.


    Mrs. Jenkins was summoned to answer the hospital¡¯s phone. ¡°All right. Oh, it¡¯s you, C¨¦cile, the one who¡¯s terrible at the piano.¡±


    Her uncomplimentary opening line slipped past C¨¦cile¡¯s notice. C¨¦cile asked her through sobs, ¡°Uh, Mrs. Jenkins. All of us offer you our c-condolences¡­¡±


    ¡°What?¡± the old woman answered bemusedly. ¡°Your condolences? For what?¡±


    C¨¦cile wiped her tears. ¡°Huh¡­? Didn¡¯t Mr. Jenkins pass away¡­?¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about, C¨¦cile! He¡¯s alive and kicking! Right now he¡¯s recovering in his hospital room and enjoying his dinner. What a rude thing to say!¡±


    ¡°What?!¡± C¨¦cile hurriedly apologized, then hung up the receiver.


    The new music teacher had walked over to her. ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°Well, I called the hospital just now, about Mr. Jenkins.¡±


    ¡°The hospital?¡± A strange expression passed over the music teacher¡¯s face as he repeated her words.


    *****


    The next day, C¨¦cile walked to the gingerbread house carrying a stack of books, her eyes bleary from the commotion over the ghost on the previous night. She wound her way through the unfinished garden maze, whose construction was making steady progress under the care of the old gardener.


    ¡°Oh, no!¡± Just as she was about to start crying from fear that she would become stranded inside the maze, C¨¦cile finally found the outlet and arrived at the house in the center. She set the stack of books upon a claw foot table, now so tired that she could barely speak.


    ¡°Ahh¡­¡± She fell into a chair with an sigh of relief. ¡°They¡¯re so heavy!¡±


    *****


    Later that night¡­


    The same incident happened again in the faculty dormitory.


    The harp played on in the empty room. When the teachers ran to open the door, they found no one inside. The window was also locked from the inside. C¨¦cile¡¯s friend approached the harp, and pointed at it. ¡°Look, the strings are still quivering,¡± she murmured.


    But when they called the hospital, they were told that Mr. Jenkins was getting better by the day.


    And the next night, it occurred again¡­.


    With each time she heard the harp playing, the naturally timid C¨¦cile found herself increasingly unable to sleep at night¡­.


    C¨¦cile could not believe her ears.


    One evening, several days after the harp began playing at night, she gathered books for Victorique and deposited them on top of the clawfoot table in the gingerbread house, as was her daily routine. Just as she was preparing to leave, she had heard a voice call out to her.


    ¡°What on earth¡¯s the matter?¡±


    It was the Grey Wolf, who had uttered not a single word for the past several months.


    C¨¦cile halted, and then looked over her shoulder in wonderment.


    Deep in the shadows, a beautiful doll, tangled in frills and lace, lay sprawled out on the ground in a position that C¨¦cile had grown used to seeing. While C¨¦cile was distracted with other tasks, a white ceramic pipe had suddenly appeared in the doll¡¯s delicate hand. A thin strand of tobacco smoke swayed lazily to the ceiling as she smoked it.


    ¡°D-did you say something?¡± asked C¨¦cile in a quavering voice.


    ¡°You seemed to be preoccupied with something these past few days.¡±


    ¡°H-how did you know?¡±


    The girl snorted derisively through her small, finely-shaped nose. And then, in a voice as husky as that of an old woman, she said, ¡°It¡¯s really quite simple. An overflowing wellspring of wisdom told it to me.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­?¡±


    Victorique¡¯s cold green eyes blazed brightly. C¨¦cile gulped. Up until this point, this girl had done nothing else but skim through books with lifeless eyes, her small body slumped onto the floor. But now her spirit was seized by a terrifying, unfathomable energy that had suddenly been released out of nowhere. Her presence had been nearly invisible in that dark room, but in that moment, the one staring at C¨¦cile was a being who possessed real power. C¨¦cile stood motionless, dual emotions of fear and awe warring within her.


    ¡°W-wellspring of wisdom¡­?¡±


    ¡°Correct. On occasion, I will collect fragments of chaos from this world and amuse myself with them, just to stave off boredom. Then I reconstruct them, and arrive at a single truth. ¡­Now, speak.¡±


    ¡°S-speak?¡± C¨¦cile repeated tremblingly.


    Victorique answered in a voice shaking with irritation. ¡°Tell me of the events occurring around you. At the very least, you can be of some use to me so that I may forget this tedium for even a moment. Now speak, speak!¡±


    C¨¦cile gasped at the little girl¡¯s words spoken in that husky voice, brimming with arrogance and obstinacy. But when C¨¦cile opened her mouth to protest, her fear got the better of her, and she closed her mouth, unable to say anything.


    Victorique snorted contemptuously, exasperated at C¨¦cile¡¯s continuing silence. ¡°Or am I to assume the reason is a much more inane one?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°If, for example, you happened to be brooding over your wanton cravings for the opposite sex, then that would be a truly inane reason. In that case, I would rather you not tell me, C¨¦cile.¡±


    ¡°N-n-n-no, not that!¡±


    C¨¦cile ran agitatedly over to Victorique¡¯s side. Once she came closer to this strange girl, she began her tale of the peculiar harp, complete with wild gesticulations.


    ¡°¡­So that¡¯s why all of us teachers have been living in fear. My friend said it¡¯s the ghost of Mr. Jenkins, but he¡¯s still alive. But what else could it be?¡±


    Victorique uttered a short phrase in a low voice. ¡°Move the harp somewhere else.¡±


    C¨¦cile regained some of her composure. ¡°Huh? Why?¡±


    ¡°¡­.¡±


    And then Victorique said no more. Once again, she sank into her golden darkness, one formed of books, thoughts, and boredom. No matter how many times C¨¦cile attempted to recapture her attention, she said not another word. At last, C¨¦cile gave up, and silently departed the gingerbread house.


    *****


    When C¨¦cile returned to the dormitory that night, she borrowed the key to Mr. Jenkins¡¯ room and relocated the harp with the help of her friend. It was a large and heavy instrument, with countless strings strung from top to bottom. For two women lacking physical strength, it was far too much to lift. All they could manage was to drag it across the plush carpet a mere twenty centimeters or so. Then they threw up their hands and returned to their rooms.


    ¡°So it¡¯s not supposed to play anymore? Why?¡±


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know exactly why¡­. But someone told me to do that, so I thought I¡¯d give it a try.¡±


    The two women exchanged incredulous looks.


    It was getting late at night.


    And from that night onward¡­


    The harp never played again.


    *****


    The next morning was sunny, a fine day that foretold of the coming of summer.


    With summer holidays soon to begin, a restless excitement was starting to spread through the student body.


    C¨¦cile walked briskly to the gingerbread house, as she had done so many times before. She put down her stack of books, then called out to the frilly doll lolling in the darkness. ¡°Can you explain what happened?¡±


    That cold and beautiful girl, petite enough to be mistaken for a doll, was carefully watching C¨¦cile with her jewel-like green eyes. Every so often, she would bring her ceramic pipe to her small mouth, and take a drag from it.


    A thin filament of smoke drifted idly to the ceiling.


    ¡°¡­About what?¡±


    ¡°The haunted harp. We moved it a little bit to the side, just like you said to do, and last night it didn¡¯t play. But why would that happen?¡±


    Victorique replied with a loud, weary-sounding yawn. Then, with penetrating eyes that brought to mind those of a wolf, she suddenly gave C¨¦cile a steely stare.


    C¨¦cile shivered, frozen to the ground in fear. ¡°Uh¡­¡±


    ¡°The man on the first floor was playing the harp on the second floor.¡±


    ¡°Come again?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m saying the harp on the second floor was being played by the harp on the first floor.¡±


    ¡°¡­I¡¯m sorry?¡±


    ¡°Surely you understand this.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± answered C¨¦cile promptly.


    Victorique¡¯s eyes widened in surprise, and she sighed heavily. ¡°It¡¯s bothersome, but I¡¯ll articulate it for you.¡±


    ¡°Articulate it?¡±


    ¡°I will explain what I have reconstructed so that you may understand it.¡± Victorique removed the pipe from her mouth, and continued irritatedly. ¡°Listen carefully. A harp was playing in a locked room with no one inside, without even the lights turned on. And once you moved it, the music stopped.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°Investigate the room directly below it on the first floor. You should find another harp there. When the culprit plays the harp on the first floor, that vibrates the instrument on the second floor.¡±


    ¡°H-how is that possible?¡±


    ¡°A harp is an instrument with many strings pulled taut from top to bottom. A sound is produced by plucking the strings. And the floor of the room where the harp is should be overlaid with plush carpet. The culprit made many small holes through the ceiling of his room on the first story, which is also the floor of the room on the second story, and one by one, tied strings to connect the harp on the top floor to that on the bottom floor. And so, when the instrument on the first floor was played, the strings of the harp on the second floor were also plucked. When he finished his performance, he pulled out the strings that he had secretly strung through the ceiling. The holes in the floor of the second-story room should be thoroughly hidden by the plush carpet. Hmph, this is just one of the many worthless tricks that stage magicians have been using for generations. Just a bit of hysteria to fool children into believing in ghosts.¡±


    Victorique muttered this disinterestedly, and once again, took a puff from her pipe. Her radiant blond hair undulated with every movement of her small head.


    ¡°But who did it, then¡­?¡±


    ¡°Most likely, the new music teacher.¡±


    ¡°Him?!¡±


    ¡°Mmm. It is necessary that the culprit be skilled in playing the harp. That limits the number of people capable of pulling it off. And I believe you said that the first floor of that dormitory is where the single men live.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡±


    ¡°I suppose he was envious of Mr. Jenkins¡¯ popularity, and stirred up this fuss over ghosts so that everyone would feel frightened at the thought of him. Think about it, C¨¦cile. Who else would have reason to do it except for that man?¡±


    ¡°¡­.¡±


    ¡°In other words, he was the only one who didn¡¯t know that Mr. Jenkins was still alive.¡±


    C¨¦cile stared at at her dumbly.


    Victorique added in an annoyed tone, ¡°Everyone else knew that Mr. Jenkins was recuperating in the hospital in Sauvr¨¨me. But the new teacher didn¡¯t know that. He was probably under the mistaken impression that the previous music teacher had died. C¨¦cile, didn¡¯t he ask you about Mr. Jenkins before all of this happened? And you told him that you had lost a ¡®dear friend¡¯.¡±


    C¨¦cile gasped in astonishment. ¡°N-now that you mention it¡­¡±


    ¡°And when you called the hospital in Sauvr¨¨me in the aftermath of the mess, he seemed to be surprised when he heard you mention the hospital. Since he didn¡¯t know that Mr. Jenkins was in the hospital, he didn¡¯t understand why you rushed to phone them when the incident with the ghost happened.¡±


    ¡°¡­.¡±


    ¡°Do you understand now?¡±


    But rather than give C¨¦cile a chance to reply, Victorique instead slowly turned away from her, like a wild animal returning to the deep forest, and turned her attention back to her books once more.


    C¨¦cile stared mutely at her small form, so very slight, and so finely featured that she could have been hand-made.


    Victorique said nothing more, perhaps no longer even aware of C¨¦cile¡¯s presence.


    Despite the awe-inspiring, noble, and yet dark and unknown power that lay dormant inside of Victorique, the figure reflected in C¨¦cile¡¯s eyes was merely that of a girl in frilly clothes who looked like a porcelain doll. When she realized that this was the first time she had actually exchanged something akin to a conversation with Victorique, she became speechless with amazement. And then she quietly left the dollhouse, bewildered at the ever-present pain she felt in her chest, like the pricking of a rose thorn.


    As she wound her way through the garden maze, what suddenly welled up in C¨¦cile¡¯s heart was the thought that, perhaps, the meaning of boredom was in fact one and the same with loneliness. She had no inkling of what was running through the mind of the grey wolf, or what would become of her. But the thorn only continued to ache.


    *****


    And so spring headed into summer.


    The long holiday had begun.


    [8]


    With the start of the long summer break, the sights and sounds of the students vanished as if they had never existed in the first place, leaving St. Marguerite¡¯s School bathed in stillness and the radiant light of the summer sun. But there was a subtle change to this yearly routine, and it was not solely due to the presence of the Grey Wolf Victorique.


    When morning came, Victorique groggily gathered up her frills and lace and walked out of the small gingerbread house, passing through the deserted gardens. Her destination was St. Marguerite¡¯s Library, one of the greatest repositories of books in all of Europe, stored in a square, hollow building, submerged in the color of ash. Victorique was the only student granted special permission to use the library¡¯s hydraulic elevator, which had been installed only a few years before. From morning until evening, she spent all of her time reading books in a curious alcove at the very top of the labyrinthine staircase, built for a king of Sauvure to indulge himself in his rendezvous with a secret lover.


    The summer flew past uneventfully, and soon enough, it was autumn.


    A traveler had arrived.


    *****


    That morning, C¨¦cile sat at her desk in a staff room on the first floor of the U-shaped main building, staring flummoxed at the stack of papers in front of her. She held her head in her hands and groaned to herself.


    ¡°Hmm¡­ So this time, it¡¯s an Oriental boy¡­.¡± She adjusted her crooked eyeglasses. ¡°What¡¯ll I do if it¡¯s another strange one? What will I have to bring him this time, and where will I have to bring it? And just when I thought the pain in my back went away¡­. Hmm¡­.¡±


    As C¨¦cile sighed to herself, she reflected on her mental images of what people from the Far East were like. Harakiri, inscrutable hairstyles, gorgeously-patterned clothing, dog stew¡­.


    ¡°Right. I have to hide the dogs! He¡¯s almost here!¡±


    When she rose from her chair, her elbow accidentally knocked over the textbooks, exam papers, and assorted heavy books that were stacked up on her side of the desk. ¡°Ack! ¡­Huh?¡±


    Hidden behind the din of papers crashing to the floor, she thought she heard someone say something in a quiet, muffled voice.


    Startled, C¨¦cile looked beyond the jumble of books and handouts, and saw that someone had entered the staff room unnoticed. Standing before her was a diminutive young boy, his skin a color she had never seen before. His hair was jet-black and glossy, and his smooth skin was tinged with yellow. He had hastily reached out to catch some of the falling books, then put them back on the desk and began silently picking up the papers scattered on the ground.


    C¨¦cile stared at the boy in amazement.


    ¡­To the young aristocrats that populated the student body, the teachers were merely another category of servant. If C¨¦cile ever dropped something, there would be not a single student willing to pick it up for her. As she looked down at him, bewilderment written all over her face, the boy swiftly picked up everything that had fallen and placed it back on the desk. Then he dusted off his knees and stood up.


    He was small in stature and fine-boned, but held himself tall like an adult man. The boy stared intently at C¨¦cile with a serious, inflexible expression, looking much like a young soldier.


    His jet-black eyes drew her into their gaze. They were sparkling and moist, the same color as his hair.


    C¨¦cile scrambled back to her desk to review the documents she had laid out in advance. This boy had been sent abroad to study on the recommendation of his country, a certain nation in the Orient. His father was a soldier, and his two older brothers were already successfully employed in their respective careers. He was an honors student, the pride of his country, and had earned excellent grades at his military academy¡­.


    C¨¦cile turned away from the dossier to the small boy standing before her. ¡°¡­Kazuya Kujou, right?¡±


    ¡°Oui.¡± Perhaps still unused to the sounds of French, he stumbled for a moment, a frown forming between his brows. Then he steeled himself, and stood up even straighter. ¡°I am Kazuya Kujou. Mademoiselle, I am pleased to make your acquaintance!¡±


    ¡°Do you eat dogs?¡±


    Kazuya¡¯s upbeat expression suddenly deflated sadly. ¡°Non. We do not eat dogs.¡±


    ¡°Great. The classroom is this way, Kujou.¡±


    C¨¦cile picked up her textbooks and began to walk away, with Kazuya hurriedly following behind her. His black leather shoes made a firm clack each time they hit the floor of the hallway, startling her with their precisely-regulated pace, as if he were holding a one-man march.


    While walking down the hallway with her textbooks and Kazuya¡¯s dossier in hand, C¨¦cile compared the attached photograph with the boy marching beside her. The picture featured a stern-looking father in military garb, two large-framed elder brothers, and a slight woman, who appeared to be his mother, standing directly in the middle of the frame. Kazuya himself was ducking shamefacedly in the corner. Next to him, a vaguely flirtatious-looking girl with lustrous black hair and moist cat-like eyes was hanging from Kazuya¡¯s neck, pressing her cheek to his. This was presumably his older sister.


    The more C¨¦cile compared the solemn expression on the boy walking next to her to the face in the photograph, with his dismayed look as his sister clung to him, the funnier she found it, and she burst out laughing.


    ¡°What is it, mademoiselle?¡± Kazuya asked, sounding puzzled.


    ¡°Oh, nothing¡­. Good luck with your classes, Kujou.¡±


    ¡°Of course, mademoiselle,¡± he replied, nodding with a stiff expression on his face. ¡°I came to study with the intention of upholding the dignity of my nation. I am compelled to excel in my schoolwork and return as a distinguished adult who can serve my country. My father and brothers have all made this very clear to me.¡±


    ¡°What about your maman and your big sister?¡±


    As soon as he heard those words, Kazuya¡¯s gaze dropped to the ground, and for an instant, his face looked like that of a child.


    ¡°Hmm?¡±


    ¡°My mother and sister ¡­ wept and pleaded with me not to go¡­.¡± Kazuya looked as if he were about to cry. But he bit his lip and stood up ever straighter instead.


    ¡°I-is that right,¡± C¨¦cile responded politely.


    They reached the classroom.


    C¨¦cile opened the door, stood Kazuya in front of the classroom, and introduced the new foreign student to the rest of the pupils. The blond-haired and blue-eyed boys and girls seated in the classroom¡ªthe children of powerful families in Sauvure¡¯s aristocracy¡ªstared at their new classmate with uniformly chilly and aloof faces.


    *****


    Kazuya Kujou would end up encountering many difficulties in his day to day life.


    Asians were a rare sight in Europe in the first place, and the sheltered students were extremely resistant to the idea of befriending one at school. Kazuya¡¯s serious personality did him no favors, and he was unable to make close friends, only narrowly managing to be recognized by others for his excellent grades.


    Kazuya¡¯s French, halting at first, gradually improved until he had no problems dealing with either conversation or schoolwork. He stubbornly devoted every waking moment to his studies.


    From time to time, C¨¦cile would remind him, ¡°Don¡¯t push yourself so hard. It¡¯s okay to relax and enjoy yourself sometimes, too.¡±


    But Kazuya would merely respond with a ¡°yes, ma¡¯am.¡±


    And so the seasons slowly turned.


    *****


    One morning, on her way to the main building after leaving the dormitory early, C¨¦cile encountered Kazuya standing with ramrod straight posture in front of one of the flower gardens. ¡°Good morning!¡± she greeted him.


    Kazuya turned around, startled by the sound of her voice. He squinted his jet-black eyes against the bright morning sun and said, ¡°Miss C¨¦cile, good morning.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re up early. What have you been doing?¡±


    Most of the other students were used to sleeping in until the very last minute before lessons started. When C¨¦cile was a student, she was no exception. But she had a feeling that in Kujou¡¯s case, waking up early in the morning and taking a walk was probably something very typical of him.


    Kazuya abruptly pointed at something, his serious expression as rigid as ever.


    ¡°Hmm?¡± said C¨¦cile.


    He was pointing at a small golden flower blooming luminously in a corner of the garden.


    ¡°A flower?¡± C¨¦cile asked.


    Kazuya nodded in the affirmative.


    ¡°Do you like that flower?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Ooh¡­ You noticed it right away, even though it¡¯s so small, and surrounded by a bunch of bigger flowers.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Kazuya nodded. Then he suddenly looked embarrassed, and cast his eyes down. He softly murmured, ¡°I¡¯ll be off, then,¡± and turned away from C¨¦cile, walking to the main building with brisk footsteps.


    How strange¡­ Is it so embarrassing to admire flowers¡­? C¨¦cile thought bemusedly.


    An autumn¡¯s breeze, imbued with a cool dampness, lightly rustled through her hair as she stood in front of the garden.


    *****


    ¡°Who was that?¡±


    Around the end of the following week.


    In the midst of delivering a shipment of new dresses and sweets to Victorique¡¯s villa, C¨¦cile paused. Victorique de Blois, who had said nothing for weeks on end, and resembled nothing more than a doll with an unchanging expression, had suddenly spoken.


    ¡°Huh?¡± C¨¦cile blurted out, nonplussed.


    Victorique snorted brusquely. ¡°That yellowish fellow who came to the library today.¡±


    ¡°Yellowish fellow?!¡± C¨¦cile thought to herself for a moment, a doubtful look on her face.


    Victorique, on the other hand, apparently had no desire to explain herself further, and went back to silently smoking her pipe and flipping through her books at an impressive speed. She read through ten pages of a bulky tome of philosophy written in complex Latin in what seemed like an eye-blink.


    Finally, with an air of impatience, Victorique raised her head slightly, and reluctantly added to her description. ¡°His movements were rather stiff.¡±


    ¡°¡­Kujou?!¡± C¨¦cile understood at last.


    And then she remembered how that evening, she had asked Kazuya to find a book in St. Marguerite¡¯s Library. Kazuya had gone through considerable pains to locate the book, wandering up and down the library¡¯s maze of stairs over and over until finally finding it and bringing it back to C¨¦cile. She thought he seemed to be a bit out of breath¡­


    And at the same time, Victorique had been at the very top of that maze of stairs, in that lush conservatory, by herself as always, reading her books and smoking her pipe¡­


    C¨¦cile nodded. ¡°That¡¯s Kujou, one of the foreign students. He¡¯s from a small country in the Far East, and he arrived last month to enroll as a student here.¡±


    Victorique did not respond. She immersed herself once more in the quiet world of books, with the sound of turning pages and the smoke that drifted from her pipe its only other inhabitants.


    i wonder what¡¯s gotten into her. I never thought I¡¯d ever see her express interest in anything other than books¡­.


    As she pondered this, C¨¦cile left the villa.


    *****


    The autumn headed into another winter. The bleak sky was cold and dry, saturating the vast gardens of St. Marguerite¡¯s School in a dreary grey. The plants had lost their green leaves, and now resembled nothing more than a forest of tangled branches, or perhaps the bones of a black skull. Bare rose bushes spread throughout the gardens like a baleful spider¡¯s web.


    Sometimes C¨¦cile would find Kazuya lingering in front of the same flower garden where she saw him that day. While passing by on her way to the classrooms early in the morning, she would glance to the side and see Kazuya gazing at that desolate flower garden, with a soft, strangely tender look in his eyes. It was a look that he never showed to anyone, whether during lessons, or when she sent him on errands to the library.


    A golden flower had quietly bloomed there until the end of autumn. But now it was hidden amongst thin, dry branches, intertwining like spider¡¯s silk, left behind in a lonesome garden¡­.


    Kazuya would sometimes stand perfectly still, and simply gaze silently at the withered plants.


    Kujou must be¡­


    One morning, a thought arose in C¨¦cile¡¯s mind.


    I have the feeling that he must be waiting for spring. He¡¯s patiently waiting for that lovely shining flower to bloom again. Even though he always seems so stern, maybe he¡¯s actually a romantic gentleman at heart¡­.


    The grey sky of a European winter shrouded the campus like a dark taffeta blanket¡­.


    *****


    ¡°How old is Kujou?¡±


    C¨¦cile rushed to the garden maze one morning to deliver breakfast to the villa, sneaking in a peek at Kazuya along the way. When Victorique¡¯s husky voice reached her ears, she jumped and nearly spilled the silver tray carrying fruit, rye bread, and lingonberry jam.


    ¡°What was that?¡±


    ¡°¡­Never mind,¡± muttered Victorique grumpily, turning away from C¨¦cile.


    A white strand of smoke floated aimlessly from her pipe. The little girl, enveloped in black velvet and white silken frills, paged through her books and puffed on her pipe. From time to time, she would shake her thin neck as if waking from a dream, and stretch out a hand to pluck a morsel from her mountain of sweets. Then she would pop it in her glossy, cherry-red mouth and munch on it.


    ¡°¡­Eat too much candy and you won¡¯t have room for breakfast.¡±


    ¡°¡­.¡±


    ¡°And Kujou is the same age as you. Both of you are in the same class for now. Although, you won¡¯t get to meet him if you don¡¯t show up for lessons.¡±


    ¡°¡­Oh,¡± Victorique answered curtly, in the same quiet, husky voice that C¨¦cile had grown accustomed to hearing. But she thought she heard a subtle twinge of something else in that voice, like a drop of rosewater that had spilled into a lake.


    The smallest drop of sweet water had dripped into a huge, murky pool, and it awakened a disquiet in C¨¦cile¡¯s heart.


    C¨¦cile concentrated on Victorique¡¯s aloof expression while she looked down at her books. She again had the distinct feeling that something she had never seen before had flickered across Victorique¡¯s face for a split second. The sight of it made her feel uneasy. C¨¦cile nervously adjusted her large glasses so that she could get a better look at her, but that aura of slight warmth that she was sure she had sensed had already passed from Victorique¡¯s small face, as cold as porcelain, vanishing to some hidden place inside of her.


    What was that just now¡­?


    The afterimage nagged at C¨¦cile, but Victorique merely ignored her and said no more. At last, C¨¦cile picked up her tray of breakfast and left the villa.


    A cold gust of wind blew past her, and she quickly fumbled to close the front of her brown overcoat. She made her way through the winding path of the garden maze until finally emerging from it after some time.


    The sprawling campus on the outside of the garden maze felt even colder in the European winter, which was imbued with a foreboding sense of darkness. C¨¦cile quickened her steps toward the dormitory. Somewhere out of sight, she heard the dry crackle of dead leaves.


    *****


    The weather gradually grew colder.


    Kazuya Kujou, unused to the winters of Europe, caught the flu on one occasion. One day, he was so ill that he could not get out of bed, and so C¨¦cile visited his room in the boys¡¯ dormitory to deliver the assignments that he had missed.


    The room was so precisely organized that it felt lonely just to look at it. Furnished with elegant oaken furniture for the use of the noble-born children, it contained a large writing desk, bookshelves, and elaborately-ornamented cabinets. Kazuya, his face flushed, was lying on the bed in the corner, his sleeping body held perfectly straight under the covers.


    The redheaded housemother anxiously paced the hallway, fretting over the foreign child who had collapsed. When C¨¦cile placed the palm of her hand on Kazuya¡¯s hot forehead to check his temperature, Kazuya murmured something she didn¡¯t understand, in what she assumed was his native language.


    He must be calling out to someone, thought C¨¦cile. She heard him say two syllables over and over again¡ªru, ri. While she contemplated this for a moment, Kazuya opened his unfocused eyes. They were deep black, the color of the night, and felt as if they consumed all that they gazed upon. At first, Kazuya stared at her in a daze. Then, when he realized that the person sitting beside him was his homeroom teacher, he bolted up in bed.


    ¡°Try to get some more sleep,¡± said C¨¦cile, trying to soothe him.


    Kazuya resisted for a moment, then obligingly laid back down. After this, he said bashfully, ¡°I thought you were someone else. I apologize, Miss C¨¦cile.¡±


    ¡°Who did you think it was?¡±


    ¡°I felt the presence of a female, so I thought it may have been my sister.¡± Kazuya burrowed under the covers, sounding profoundly embarrassed. He continued, his voice muffled by the blankets. ¡°I thought you were Ruri. Because when I was in my country, we were always together. Miss C¨¦cile, her name in my language carries the meaning of a precious stone. And even though she cried and begged so much for me not to go, I left her behind anyway. Now I worry about her.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure she must worry about you, too.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m sure,¡± murmured Kazuya. His head peeked out of the comforter.


    C¨¦cile called an old physician from the village to examine Kazuya. Even when the doctor gave him an injection with a large syringe, Kazuya¡¯s face betrayed no fear, nor the slightest trace of pain. His expression stony, he gritted his teeth, keeping as silent and stoic as possible.


    Right before C¨¦cile escorted the doctor out, something occurred to her. ¡°Kujou, you like shiny, pretty things, don¡¯t you? Like the names of jewels, and¡­¡± A faraway look entered her eyes. ¡°I remember how much you loved to look at that golden flower in the garden. It was so small, but lovely. When it¡¯s springtime again, you¡¯ll see it bloom. Right?¡±


    Hearing no reply, she turned around to look at him. Then she saw that Kazuya¡¯s face was fully flushed all the way to his ears, to an extent that could not be solely blamed on his fever. He squirmed silently, then finally said in a faint voice, ¡°I really love the color gold.¡±


    Why is that so embarrassing to him? wondered C¨¦cile curiously.


    Kazuya continued, ¡°For a man to admit to such a frivolous thing, if my father and brothers found out, they would strip me naked, tie me up, and hang me out of the second-story window. And my brothers¡¯ favorite magazine to read is something called ¡®Monthly He-Men¡¯. But as for me, I¡¯m just¡­¡±


    His voice trailed off forlornly.


    ¡°I¡¯m just this plain, inconspicuous, dull man you see before you.¡±


    ¡°Th-that¡¯s not true.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. So whenever I see beautiful colors or flowers, it¡¯s like I suddenly fall under a spell. I feel my heart being stolen away from me. Really, it only happens once in a while. But I keep it a secret from those around me.¡±


    ¡°¡­.¡±


    ¡°Miss C¨¦cile, I think the color gold is a truly lovely, marvelous color. There are no flowers of that color in my country. So when I saw that golden flower, I felt very touched by it. But it¡¯s a secret¡­ so please ¡­ don¡¯t tell¡­¡±


    In the middle of Kazuya¡¯s feverish murmuring, the injection finally seemed to take effect. His black eyes closed, and his breathing fell into the soft rhythm of sleep. C¨¦cile sighed in dismay at the sight of him lying down rigidly straight, even on his sickbed. Then she gently rearranged the disheveled comforter and lightly patted him on top of the covers, imagining to herself that this would be what his sister would do for him had she been there.


    ¡°A golden flower¡­!¡±


    As C¨¦cile left the dormitory and made her way through the darkened gardens outside, a single image rose in her mind. That girl, like a small golden rose. And those striking, silent eyes that stared straight at her, lost within the blossoming flower petals that took on the form of frills and lace¡­.


    Victorique de Blois¡­!


    C¨¦cile walked through the garden paths, thinking of the girl who could be called a living golden flower. The winter would not end for a while yet.


    [9]


    At last the dry, grey winter ran its course, and another spring came.


    Victorique secluded herself in her villa as usual, only going out during the daytime to spend her days inside the conservatory of St. Marguerite¡¯s Library. The rest of the students attended classes uneventfully.


    Thanks to a ghost story told at St. Marguerite¡¯s School of ¡°the traveler who comes in spring who brings death to the school,¡± as well as his black-haired and black-eyed visage, Kazuya¡¯s classmates had started calling him the Grim Reaper, which brought upon him no end of troubles.


    And then, one day¡­


    A murder suddenly occurred in the village. C¨¦cile found out the same morning that Kazuya had been involved in it, and that he had been subsequently transported to the school infirmary, unconscious.


    *****


    ¡°Inspector, wait! This is unjust!¡±


    C¨¦cile ran through the first story hallway of the U-shaped main building, shouting a bold rebuke at the peculiar-looking inspector. That morning, on the village road, a government employee had been murdered. Kazuya just happened to walk by at that moment, and became an eyewitness to the incident, or so C¨¦cile thought. But this strange man, sporting a bizarre hairstyle, seemed to believe that Kazuya was the killer, and he had come to arrest him.


    He was a young and handsome inspector, his gorgeous blond hair inexplicably swept forward and tapered into the shape of a drill. Two deputies in rabbit-skin hunting caps¡ªand who were, strangely enough, holding hands¡ªstood behind him at the ready. The three men made for a slightly incongruous sight.


    The policemen disregarded C¨¦cile¡¯s fearless defense of Kazuya and dragged him into another room, whereupon they began to subject him to some form of questioning.


    Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no! C¨¦cile agitatedly paced back and forth down the hallway in a panic. She could think of no recourse for something as serious as a murder case, and was at a loss for how to rescue Kazuya.


    But then she suddenly remembered the curious case of the ghost harp from several months ago.


    No one could give an explanation for what seemed to be a supernatural phenomenon. Every night, the harp would play an ominous melody. But then a certain little girl, after merely hearing a description of the case, was able to solve the mystery in an instant, with pipe in mouth. Her existence sometimes seemed almost surreal, and yet, in that moment, she became someone tangible and true¡­.


    C¨¦cile stood there for a minute, lost in thought.


    Finally, she collected her wits, rushed to the staff room, and collected two batches of notes from today¡¯s lessons. She scribbled a name on each of them, then ran back down the hallway.


    She entered the room where Kazuya was being questioned, and handed the notes to him. ¡°Here you go!¡± she said, forcing a smile to appear on her face, even though her legs were shaking in fear.


    The inspector predictably flew into a rage. ¡°Out of the way, woman! You¡¯re obstructing the investigation!¡±


    ¡°If I could have a word with you, inspector.¡± C¨¦cile hid her quivering hands behind her back, and compelled herself to take a stand against him. ¡°If you intend to treat him as a criminal, then please obtain an arrest warrant first. Otherwise, this is simply an abuse of your police powers. As a representative of this school, I must strongly protest!¡±


    *****


    Kazuya followed her into the hallway, and politely thanked her. Once she saw him looking more like his usual self, C¨¦cile thrust the stack of notes into his hands. ¡°Don¡¯t mention it. Make sure to take this. You¡¯re going to the library.¡±


    ¡°Th-the ¡­ library?¡±


    C¨¦cile nodded. ¡°Right.¡±


    When she told him to take the notes to his classmate in the library, Kazuya¡¯s face took on a slightly sulky expression. For someone as serious and studious as he was, the idea of a classmate holing up in the library and never attending lessons must have been appalling. C¨¦cile pressed on, ¡°Go to the very top of the library. That child loves high places.¡±


    ¡°Is that right¡­.¡± Kazuya sounded a little disheartened in his reply. Then he said, in an unusually mean-spirited tone by his standards, ¡°There¡¯s a saying in my homeland, that smoke and a certain you-know-what like high places.¡±


    The sight of his childish pout amused C¨¦cile, and she couldn¡¯t help but giggle. ¡°Oh, Kujou, don¡¯t say that.¡±


    She gave Kazuya¡¯s back a firm push, and added, ¡°Actually, that child is a genius, you know¡­.¡±


    With notes in hand, and posture as straight as ever, Kazuya departed down the hallway, his leather shoes tapping out a loud, even rhythm upon the floor.


    She smiled after him as he left.


    After exiting the building, Kazuya walked in the direction of the solid, stone-grey tower hidden deep inside the sprawling campus. It was springtime, and in one of the gardens, the little flower that Kazuya had so loved was once again beginning to sprout a delicate golden bud. From time to time a warm gust of wind would blow past him, marking the return of a blithe and comfortable season.


    C¨¦cile watched Kazuya grow steadily more distant as he walked through the gardens, his head held up high. With the coming of spring, the bleak winter felt more and more like a distant memory.


    He headed toward the secret conservatory at the very top of St. Marguerite¡¯s Library.


    *****


    And then, a short time later¡­


    ¡°So, it wasn¡¯t enough that you were late to class, but on top of that, decided to come play truant in the library? Of course, you may do as you wish, but at least go somewhere else so that you aren¡¯t in my way.¡±


    ¡°Huh? ¡­ Might you be Victorique, by any chance?¡±


    As if waiting for someone whom she had never met, the girl Victorique, who resembled a small porcelain doll, with her golden hair dangling from the top of the library like silken thread, met the boy who had at long last arrived from his faraway island country after crossing the seven seas. He would become her one and only vassal and friend.


    His name was Kazuya Kujou.


    The year was 1924.


    In a corner of Europe, adjacent to the French, Swiss, and Italian borders, was the kingdom of Sauvure, a small country that nonetheless prided itself on its long history. Deep in the most secluded part of the country, nestled at the foot of the Alps, stood St. Marguerite¡¯s School, a prestigious institution that may not have been quite as old as the kingdom itself, but still boasted of a long history of educating the children of the aristocracy.


    And buried deep within the campus, at the top of the labyrinthine staircase in the huge grey library, was a marvelous place¡­


    ¡°If you are, then¡­¡±


    Kazuya slowly took a step into the tranquil, almost dreamlike conservatory on the highest floor.


    ¡°I¡¯m supposed to give these these notes to you¡­.¡±


    Victorique, puffing lazily on her pipe, snorted through her small, finely-shaped nose. ¡°By the way, who the devil are you?¡±


    Kazuya recoiled at the sound of her unexpectedly husky voice. And then, stiffening from the sight of her intensely beautiful, and yet queer appearance, he answered in a faltering voice. ¡°I¡¯m ¡­ Kujou.¡±


    Victorique smiled slightly when she heard this. For just a moment, her expressionless face seemed to soften into something approaching mirth. But Kazuya did not notice this almost imperceptible change¡­.


    The warm spring breeze blew in through the opened skylights. A thin wisp of white smoke floated up to the ceiling from the ceramic pipe. The girl and boy gazed at each other, a short space between them, one sitting and one standing.


    In that spring of 1924¡­


    *****


    And so the golden flower and the Grim Reaper at last found each other.


    A chain of cases would then unfold, from the motorbike decapitation case, to the mystery of the newly-arrived transfer student Avril Bradley and the book on the thirteen step, as well as the cases of the mummified knight, the great thief Cuiaran, and the explorer¡¯s secret heirloom, the Penny Black. Victorique de Blois and Kazuya Kujou would proceed to pursue the truth behind these, hand in hand.


    But that is, once again, an entirely different story¡­.

 Volume 2 - CH 1.1

    Translator: Kell


    Prologue: I am Innocent


    Something round, shiny, and golden was glowing in the dark.


    In a small, cramped room in the back of a large mansion, wrapped in darkness and a silence so tense it seemed to cut your cheek, Cordelia studied the strange round, shiny, golden object.


    What is it? she wondered.


    Her curly hair, soft as cotton candy, draped over her cheek. She was a lovely little maid. She was clutching an iron candlestick, which looked out of place in her tiny, plump, childlike hands.


    The candle¡¯s weak orange flame provided very little light on the floor of the dark room.


    The strange object was lying on the floor.


    Cordelia reached out and cautiously picked it up.


    It¡¯s beautiful!


    It felt smooth. She held it close to her face. It was round and flat, with a human¡¯s face carved onto it. For some reason, there were also numbers on it. She wondered what they meant.


    The candle¡¯s flame flickered with Cordelia¡¯s faint breath, and the strange object sparkled in response.


    It¡¯s the most beautiful thing I¡¯ve ever seen!


    Eyes glittering, Cordelia stroked the strange object over and over again with her fingers. The thing sparkled even more as though it was happy to be stroked. She was gazing at it cheerfully, when she suddenly noticed something. She held the candlestick downward.


    To the right, to the left. In front and behind. She illuminated the dark floor.


    One, two, three. Cordelia¡¯s face filled with wonder. More weird things! There¡¯s so many of them on the floor!


    Cordelia crouched down and reached out slowly. Strange objects were strewn all over the floor. The candle¡¯s flame glinted softly on the round and golden objects, coloring Cordelia¡¯s pretty little face golden.


    So many treasures! So pretty!


    Cordelia happily picked them up, but there were so many that she couldn¡¯t collect them all.


    Her small face gradually contorted in fear. Strength left her hands, and the strange objects spilled onto the floor again, rattling.


    What are they? Why are they on the floor? Oh, right. There was supposed to be someone here. Where are they?


    She looked around carefully.


    The room was shrouded in jet-black darkness.


    Cordelia called out with a trembling voice, but there was no answer. Her voice became muffled, as though swallowed by the darkness. Her red lips tightened.


    Whoosh!


    The candle flame rippled.


    Chapter 1: Victorique de Blois is a Gray Wolf


    It was a sunny afternoon.


    The vines twisting around the wooden houses lining both sides of the street had turned bright green, swaying softly in the gentle breeze. The sky above was a clear blue. Early summer was approaching, the most comfortable days in this region.


    A calm afternoon.


    The door of a small, vine-covered post office in a corner of the village flung open, and a small oriental boy stepped out. He was dressed in the uniform of St. Marguerite Academy, a prestigious school for nobility located at the foot of a mountain not far from the village. A school cap sat on his head.


    As he walked away, lips pursed and his back straightened, the boy¡ªKazuya Kujou¡ªmumbled to himself, ¡°I asked for books, not money. Why would they send me allowance? Maybe they didn¡¯t receive my letter in time? Hmm¡­¡±


    In his hand was an envelope sent through international mail.


    ¡°What do I do with this? Eh, whatever. Let¡¯s head back to the academy for now.¡±


    While walking, the door of a small general store facing the street opened. A tall girl dressed in the same St. Marguerite Academy uniform came out, carrying a shopping bag.


    She had short, blond hair, and long, slender legs. Possessing mature features, she was quite the beauty. When she spotted Kazuya, her face lit up.


    ¡°Ah, Kujou!¡±


    Her loud voice made Kazuya yelp and jump. Startled by his reaction, the girl also gave a yelp and shrank back.


    ¡°For goodness¡¯ sake!¡± She glared at him, pouting. ¡°Your screaming scared the living daylights out of me.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Avril. It¡¯s just you.¡±


    Displeased by his reaction, the girl¡ªAvril Bradley¡ªkept her cheeks puffed for a while.


    Eventually, her smile returned. ¡°What do you have there? A letter?¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­ So, uhh¡­ W-Wait!¡±


    Avril snatched the envelope from Kazuya¡¯s hand and peered inside. ¡°Oh, allowance!¡±


    ¡°Yeah. My brother sent it to me.¡±


    ¡°I wish I had some! My parents are so stingy. Girls like me have things to buy.¡±


    ¡°Ahuh¡­¡± Kazuya gave a vague reply, nodding along.


    Avril held the envelope for a while with an envious look, then reluctantly handed it back to Kazuya.


    She smiled again. ¡°So, what are you buying?¡±


    ¡°Huh? I-I don¡¯t know. I¡¯ve got my textbooks, and I brought clothes, daily necessities, and all the other stuff I need from home. Hmm? What is it?¡± Kazuya panicked. Avril was staring at him intently.


    She put her hands on her hips. ¡°There¡¯s a difference between what you need and what you want.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Kujou, you¡¯re such a stick-in-the-mud.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Let me tell you something. The best part about shopping is looking around and trying to decide what to buy.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t get it. Just buy what you need and go home.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not getting it. Shopping is a pastime.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Kazuya inclined his head.


    Avril was getting irritated. ¡°I know,¡± she said firmly. ¡°I¡¯ll take you somewhere nice. Come on.¡±


    ¡°I, uhh¡­¡±


    ¡°Hmm? Why are you planting your feet firmly? If you don¡¯t come, I¡¯ll get mad.¡±


    ¡°¡­Sorry.¡±


    Kazuya had a bad feeling about this. Avril pulled him in the opposite direction of the academy.


    The year 1924.


    The Kingdom of Sauville, a small nation in Europe.


    Boasting a long history and tradition, Sauville was a small but powerful kingdom that survived the Great War at the beginning of the century, and was called the little giant of Western Europe. Its territory was long and narrow, reminiscent of a tower. Fertile vineyards sprawled on its border with France. The Gulf of Lyon on the Mediterranean Sea, a summer resort for the aristocracy, separated it from Italy. Rolling plateaus and deep mountains surrounded its border.


    If the Gulf of Lyon was the luxurious door to the plentiful kingdom, the Alps were the secret attic located deep inside. In this secret location stood a school.


    St. Marguerite Academy.


    Situated in a pleasant place surrounded by greenery, the school was a majestic stone building in the shape of a U when viewed from above. The school also boasted a long history and tradition, though not as long as the kingdom itself. A secret place where entry was forbidden to anyone except related personnel, only the children of nobility were allowed admission.


    But after the end of the world war, St. Marguerite Academy began accepting promising youth from allied nations as exchange students.


    Hailing from an island nation in the Far East, Kazuya Kujou was a well-mannered boy with excellent grades. The youngest of a military family, he had two brilliant older brothers, the eldest a scholar and the second an aspiring politician. Kazuya, brilliant himself and straight-laced, was recommended to be an exchange student.


    However, what awaited the thrilled Kazuya was the prejudice of the noble children and the mysterious supernatural stories that were rampant throughout the academy.


    He had a hard time adjusting to school, got involved in strange incidents, made strange friends. All in all, it had been a rough six months.

 Volume 2 - CH 1.2

    Translator: Kell


    ¡°So, late that night, as they were driving along the forest road, they were overtaken by something shiny and silvery. They looked out the window and to their surprise, it was the armor of a knight running at full speed!¡±


    ¡°Whoa, sounds scary.¡±


    ¡°As the armor passed them, it slowly looked back at the automobile. But¡­¡±


    ¡°Nice weather we¡¯re having today, huh?¡±


    ¡°¡­It was empty inside! Kyaaaaaaaaa!¡±


    Kazuya let out a shriek.


    Avril laughed. ¡°You screamed again. Scaredy-scat. Kujou, the scaredy-scat! Ahahaha!¡±


    Kazuya continued walking with a somewhat resentful expression on his face. ¡°Like I¡¯ve been saying, it¡¯s your screams, not the story.¡±


    ¡°Sure it is.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m telling the truth! Besides, there¡¯s no such thing as ghosts.¡±


    ¡°Of course there is.¡±


    ¡°Have you seen one?¡±


    ¡°Not really¡­ But a friend of a friend of a friend have.¡±


    As they walked along, a wagon pulled by an old, hairy horse passed by.


    The street was lined with wooden houses on either side, bright-green vines crawling on their white walls. The geraniums decorating the window sills were red dots swaying in the soft breeze.


    The soft scent of earth and grass drifted in from somewhere, perhaps from the sprawling vineyards a short distance away from the village.


    It was a mild, gentle season.


    The village streets in the late afternoon was getting more and more crowded. Kazuya and Avril ambled along, arguing about the existence of ghosts.


    Before Kazuya, uncharacteristically unyielding, could win the argument, Avril grumbled, ¡°It¡¯s more fun when ghosts exist.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not the point. Besides¡ª¡±


    ¡°You know that friend of yours? Victorique, was it? There¡¯s a rumor that she¡¯s actually not human, but a gray wolf. Isn¡¯t it exciting? Your friend might be a legendary creature!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not! Who spread that rumor anyway? It¡¯s just rude.¡±


    He had had a hard time making friends in the past six months since coming from Japan because of stories that said he was the Reaper. He didn¡¯t think he would ever like horror stories, no matter how widespread they were.


    Avril pouted. ¡°You¡¯re such a buzzkill.¡±


    ¡°Ugh¡­¡± Kazuya shut his mouth.


    In the eastern island country where Kazuya was born and raised, men were taught to do what they had to do quietly without complaints. Kazuya tried to do his best, but things were different after he came to study in Sauville.


    Avril Bradley, a foreign exchange student from England who had become a good friend of his, often made fun of him for being too serious and hard-headed. And his other friend¡ªalso a girl¡ªconstantly called him a simpleton and a mediocre egghead. Kazuya found it depressing.


    ¡°Ah, Kujou. We¡¯re here.¡± Avril cheerfully pointed at something, completely oblivious to Kazuya¡¯s brooding.


    Kazuya raised his head. Countless villagers were gathered in the square at the intersection of two streets. A flea market had been set up in the square, overflowing with goods and shoppers alike.


    ¡°Today is the once-a-month flea market,¡± Avril said. ¡°I¡¯ve been saving up my allowance for this.¡±


    ¡°Really¡­?¡±


    Avril pulled on his hand and dragged him into the middle of the crowd of shoppers.


    A variety of stores stood in a row. Antique dealers, who had come all the way here just for this occasion, were selling antique dolls and lovely tableware sets that looked like they were made in the last century. A village girl, who seemed to be about the same age as Kazuya, giggled as she offered them handmade herbal soaps and potpourri. An old woman with a gentle smile was tending to a store full of colorful scarves.


    While Kazuya was goggling at the sheer number of items, he felt a tug at his uniform.


    ¡°You there. Come take a look. It¡¯ll be worth your time, I tell ya.¡± Their voice sounded awfully coquettish.


    Kazuya turned around and saw a young nun sitting there, garbed in a stuffy habit. Her voice didn¡¯t seem to match her appearance.


    ¡°Come take a gander,¡± she said.


    ¡°O-Okay¡­¡±


    Avril, who had been walking ahead, noticed that Kazuya was not following and scuttled back. When she saw the stall in front of him, her face lit up.


    ¡°It¡¯s a church bazaar,¡± she said.


    ¡°Is that what this is?¡±


    ¡°Yup. You should buy something, Kujou. A church bazaar sells items donated by followers, so they¡¯re cheaper than the others. Besides, this stall is cute!¡±


    She was right. Among the items laid out in front of the nun were delicate handmade laces, sparkling glassware, antique rings, and other items that were a little old-fashioned but still pretty even to a boy¡¯s eyes.


    Kazuya studied them with a stern look. ¡°All right. I¡¯m buying one.¡±


    ¡°What, really?¡± Avril was a little surprised.


    Staring grimly at the items, he added, ¡°Though I¡¯m not sure which one to get.¡± Kazuya looked at the nun.


    He couldn¡¯t tell the color of her hair, as it was hidden underneath her robe, but she had clear, almond eyes, a peculiar bluish-gray that he had never seen before. They had a lonely but striking gleam to them, like looking at the desert skies. She must have been eighteen or nineteen years old.


    But her puritanical attire and clear eyes conflicted with the casual manner in which she spoke and the way she sat on a wooden box with her legs spread out wide like a man.


    What¡¯s more, she had been snorting loudly and roughly scratching her head. Her mannerisms were unbefitting of a nun. Her waxen, freckled face looked somewhat distinctive¡ªshe could be odd or beautiful depending on the beholder.


    ¡°Um¡­¡± Before Kazuya could speak, his nose picked up a strange, sweet smell coming from the nun. It was an odd scent, not perfume.


    Ah! It¡¯s alcohol, he thought. But why would a nun smell like booze?


    The tips of her leather shoes that he glimpsed through the bottom of her garb were stained white. A nun, who should be living an ascetic lifestyle, reeked of alcohol in the middle of the day, their shoes dirty. Was that even possible?


    ¡°What?¡± the nun said gruffly.


    Kazuya panicked. ¡°Oh, uhm¡­ I-I was just wondering if you had some nice souvenir for a girl¡­¡±


    ¡°A girl?¡±


    ¡°Y-Yeah¡­¡±


    He was getting embarrassed. While wondering if he should forget about it, Avril¡¯s face lit up.


    Kazuya picked up a laced detachable collar. ¡°What about this? I¡¯m not really sure¡­ Avril, can you stand over there for a sec? Oh, bend down a little. A little more. More. Should be about right. She¡¯s always sitting down, so I can¡¯t really tell. Hmm¡­¡±


    Avril looked happy at first, but each time she was asked to bend down, she looked more and more puzzled, until eventually her smile turned into a frown. The nun, her legs still spread open, regarded them with a dumbfounded look. When she realized what was happening, she stifled a laugh.


    Kazuya picked up a cute little handbag and an old-fashioned but elegantly-designed ring, and pondered things over. Avril snatched them all away.


    ¡°Wh-What are you doing?¡±


    ¡°These won¡¯t do.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Are these for a certain someone whose name starts with a V?¡±


    ¡°Uh, yeah. She can¡¯t¡­ I mean, won¡¯t get out of the academy. Wait, do you know Victorique?¡±


    ¡°Not personally, no.¡± Avril kicked at a pebble at her foot, looking disinterested, then lifted her head. ¡°This one¡¯s good! Trust me!¡± She picked up a golden skull the size of her fist.


    The nun gasped in horror.


    ¡°Wh-What¡¯s that?¡± Kazuya asked. ¡°How do you use it?¡±


    ¡°Like this.¡± With a serious face, Avril placed the skull on top of her head.


    ¡°Quit pulling my leg.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not. Also¡­¡± Avril pushed aside village girls who were looking at postcards. She rummaged through the pile and grabbed a postcard that featured a swarm of rats.


    ¡°¡­No way.¡±


    ¡°This one, then.¡± She picked up a glittering Indian turban designed like a crown.


    Kazuya couldn¡¯t imagine her wearing it, but the turban alone was definitely pretty, like finely-crafted candy sculpture. He thought it over.


    Avril waved it around. ¡°Look, isn¡¯t it pretty? I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll like it.¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­¡±


    As Avril¡¯s eyes began to tear up, the nun chimed in, either out of sympathy or just for fun. ¡°She¡¯s right. It looks great. I actually want it, but unfortunately, it¡¯s for sale.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Kazuya asked.


    Avril and the nun exchanged looks, then simultaneously turned to Kazuya and nodded.


    After contemplating for several more seconds, Kazuya ended up buying the strange Indian turban.


    There were many other items in the church bazaar. The most eye-catching one was the lone beautiful Dresden Plate carefully displayed at the back. A lanky, old man wearing a fedora asked the nun about its price.


    The nun proudly told the man the price. It was so ridiculously expensive that Kazuya and Avril glanced at each other. The old man gave a grunt and walked away, shaking his head.


    The village girls looked at the nun. ¡°Why is the plate a lot more expensive than the rest?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t really know much either,¡± the nun said, ¡°but apparently it¡¯s pretty old. It¡¯s got that historical value. A lady of faith donated it. It¡¯s today¡¯s main item.¡±


    The village girls bought postcards that featured pretty flowers and fruits and left.


    ¡°That plate¡¯s so pricey!¡± one said.


    ¡°But it¡¯s so old. You can¡¯t use it.¡±


    Their voices gradually faded away.


    The old man still had not given up on the plate. He was staring at it from a distance, like he really wanted it. He had taken off his fedora, tucking it under his armpit, and was carrying a small vase of flowers that he had bought at some store.


    ¡°Would you like to buy this?¡± the nun asked.


    Kazuya turned back to her. She was pointing at one of the items.


    ¡°I recommend this one. It¡¯s really cute and the price is reasonable.¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­?¡±


    It was a palm-sized, square contraption¡ªa music box. Avril reached for it.


    ¡°You put in a sheet music card, and it plays all kinds of tunes. You crank it manually. There¡¯s a lever over there.¡±


    ¡°This one?¡± Avril placed the music box on her left hand and wound the lever with her right.


    Bam!


    There was a loud bang, and the music box broke into pieces. A big, white pigeon flew out, flapping its wings into the blue sky.


    Avril shrieked, drew back a few steps, and looked at Kazuya. ¡°Wh-What was that just now?¡±


    The villagers were gaping at them. The pigeon circled the square twice, cooing, before flying away.


    The nun screamed, drawing everyone¡¯s attention. ¡°The plate!¡± she shouted, cupping her cheeks, her bluish-gray eyes wide open.


    Kazuya and Avril gasped.


    The nun pointed with trembling fingers. The expensive plate had vanished like smoke. She sank down to her seat.


    Avril¡¯s lips were quivering from shock.


    Kazuya looked around. The village girls who bought postcards were huddled together a little farther away, squealing. The old man was watching the scene with a curious look on his face.


    ¡°Call the cops,¡± someone whispered.


    Kazuya, too, was stunned, but a different thought ran through his head.


    I think this incident is the best gift for Victorique.

 Volume 2 - CH 1.3

    St. Marguerite Grand Library.


    The academy was situated in spacious grounds, on gently-sloping plains between mountains. Standing quietly in the corner of the campus was a huge library that was over three hundred years old and one of Europe¡¯s foremost bookhouses. Shaped like a polygonal tube, its stone-built exterior had been exposed to the elements for years, giving it a majestic appearance.


    Clutching an Indian turban in one hand, Kazuya scurried along the white gravel path that led from the U-shaped main school building to the library.


    ¡°I¡¯m later than usual because of that commotion,¡± he mumbled. ¡°I hope she¡¯s not mad¡­¡± Then he remembered that his friend wouldn¡¯t really wait for him. ¡°I guess it¡¯s fine.¡± He frowned. She was rarely in a good mood anyway.


    Kazuya arrived at the entrance of the library. A large, leather door with brass rivets loomed before him. He grabbed the the doorknob with both hands and pulled as hard as he could.


    The damp, cool air that filled the library caressed Kazuya¡¯s cheeks, carrying with it the smell of dust and dirt and intelligence. A solemn feeling rushed through him. He looked up.


    The walls of the large library were filled with books. One might mistake them for some interior design, but it was all just books. The inside of the building was hollow, the ceiling covered in religious paintings. He glimpsed huge, bright, green leaves far above. Most people would assume they were just an optical illusion. After all, how could there be tropical trees at the very top of a library?


    At the end of the hall on the first floor was a hydraulic elevator that had been installed during some restoration work at the beginning of the century, shrouded in an ominous shadow. Only faculty and one student were allowed to use it. He could not ride it.


    Kazuya was about to climb a narrow, wooden staircase that connected the huge bookshelves on the walls. Like a giant perilous maze, the staircase led upward in a steep angle.


    He sighed. ¡°Such a long climb¡­¡±


    There was something hanging down from the wooden railing near the ceiling. A golden sash. Her long hair.


    ¡°Looks like she¡¯s up there. Fine. Up we go.¡±


    Kazuya straightened his posture and walked up the narrow wooden stairs, his shoes clicking with each step. Looking down made him dizzy, so he told himself to keep his eyes forward.


    According to one theory, the library was built in the early 17th century by the then king of Sauville. A henpecked husband, he built a secret room on the highest floor so he could indulge in the company of his young mistress. He designed the stairs to be a maze so that no one but them could climb it.


    Yeah. Very few people would climb all the way up there, Kazuya thought. Unless they had a very good reason to.


    He climbed. Up and up the stairs. Still going up. A little more. He was getting tired now.


    When Kazuya finally reached the top floor, he called out the name of his friend with ragged breath.


    ¡°Victorique. Are you there?¡±


    No reply. Like always.


    Kazuya took a step forward. He was well aware of what lay ahead.


    A conservatory.


    The secret room at the top of the grand library was no longer a bedroom for the king and his mistress, but had been converted into a lush conservatory. Tropical trees, ferns, and garish flowers of striking colors were in full bloom, rustling in the breeze that flowed in through the open skylight.


    It was a small paradise, quiet and full of life.


    A lovely porcelain doll sat on the landing that led to the greenhouse. Nearly life-size, it was about 140 centimeters tall, garbed in an extravagant dress adorned with silk and torchon lace. It was wearing small shoes. Its long, magnificent, golden hair was not tied nor braided, cascading down to its feet, and coiling around itself like a velvet turban.


    Its face looked as cool as porcelain. Its eyes, neither childlike nor mature, were only partly-open, as though in a dreamlike trance. The porcelain doll was smoking a pipe in its mouth. White smoke drifted toward the skylight.


    Kazuya paused for a moment and gazed at what seemed like a still image. Then he returned to his usual expression and walked up to the beautiful, but very small girl¡ªthe girl that looked like a doll.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been calling your name,¡± he said. ¡°Can¡¯t you at least answer?¡±


    The girl opened her mouth just a little. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s you.¡±


    Her voice was low and husky, like an old person¡¯s, a sharp contrast from her small figure. After saying a few words, the girl¡ªVictorique¡ªclosed her mouth again.


    Several difficult books were laid out in a circle on the floor in front of her. They came in different languages, including Latin, German, and a squiggly writing system that seemed to be Arabic. The contents were also diverse, ranging from curses and alchemy to chemistry, advanced mathematics, and ancient history.


    ¡°Of course it¡¯s me. Who else would climb all the way up here?¡±


    ¡°Ms. Cecile used to come by from time to time. I haven¡¯t seen her much since she started asking you to run her errands.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± Kazuya nodded.


    Ms. Cecile was Kazuya Kujou¡¯s, Avril Bradley¡¯s, and Victorique de Blois¡¯ homeroom teacher. Six months after Kazuya arrived here as an exchange student and he still could not fit in with the noble children. Worried, Ms. Cecile started asking him to look after Victorique, a problem child who had not attended a single class since she entered the academy. Kazuya reluctantly began trekking to the library to see this mysterious girl, and as Victorique solved various cases that he got involved in, the two gradually got to know each other.


    Every time he came to the garden, her blunt and snobbish attitude¡ªa trait characteristic of the nobility¡ªirked him, and he would vow never to return, but for some reason, he always ended up back here.


    Kazuya cast a glance over at the space beside Victorique. A bunch of whiskey bonbons and macaroons lay scattered on the floor. Victorique was so absorbed in her reading that she seemed to have forgotten about the candies she had brought with her.


    ¡°What a mess,¡± Kazuya said. ¡°You¡¯re such a slob.¡± He gathered up the candies and put them in one place.


    Paying no attention to him, Victorique said, ¡°Do you believe in the existence of special races?¡±


    Kazuya looked up in surprise at the sudden question.


    ¡°I mean people like the gods in mythology,¡± she continued. ¡°The gods of Greek mythology, for example. Norse giants. There are legends of celestial beings in China as well. I¡¯m sure there are some in your country, too.¡±


    ¡°Well, yeah¡­ But they¡¯re just myths.¡±


    ¡°Big, strong, almighty people, feared as gods by other races. Wouldn¡¯t it be a little interesting if they really existed?¡±


    Kazuya was focused in organizing the candies.


    ¡°If you look into the history of Eastern Europe, you will find a lot of references to the Saillune people. They¡¯re a legendary race who had governed the war-torn lands of Eastern Europe since ancient times. They were small, powerless, and few in number, but they ruled the land with their brains. They fought bravely against the Khazars in the ninth century, the Pechenegs in the tenth and eleventh centuries, the Polovets in the twelfth century, and even defeated the Mongols in the thirteenth century. Their people flourished for a long time. The Saillune were like the gods of legend, defeating horsemen who invaded in the spring, and slaying ferocious wild wolves that lived in the woods. But now they are nowhere to be found. No nation named Saillune either. No matter what you read, there is no mention of them after the fifteenth century. One day, they suddenly vanished into thin air from Eastern Europe¡ªno, from this earth. Where did they come from and where did they disappear to? One clue we have is that the fifteenth century was also the time of witch hunts and the Inquisition. Kujou, did you go to the village?¡±


    Kazuya¡¯s hands stopped. ¡°Where¡¯d that come from?¡± he asked, surprised. ¡°Wait, how did you know?¡±


    ¡°I know exactly what you¡¯re doing.¡±


    ¡°I mean, yeah, I guess.¡±


    Victorique gave a small yawn. She reached for the candies that Kazuya gathered and rifled through the pile. Once she found a whiskey bonbon, she removed the wrapper and tossed it into her mouth.


    Only her cheeks moved as she chewed, like it was a separate creature. Kazuya took the wrapper that she tossed aside and searched for a trash can, but when he found nothing of the sort, he shoved the wrapper into his own pocket instead.

 Volume 2 - CH 1.4

    Chewing on her candy, Victorique said, ¡°The leaf on your head doesn¡¯t belong to any of the trees inside the campus. First of all, there¡¯s mail peeking out of your breast pocket. The fact that you were later than usual and in a hurry suggests that you went somewhere after your afternoon classes. That¡¯s all. It¡¯s quite simple, really.¡±


    ¡°I guess when you put it like that, sure. Still surprises me every time, though. You can guess everything I did without even watching me.¡±


    Victorique suddenly lifted her head. Wide-open eyes, sparkling green as a tropical sea, stared at Kazuya.


    ¡°Elementary, my dear Kujou. The Wellspring of Wisdom within me said so. My heightened senses gather fragments of chaos from the world around me. The Wellspring of Wisdom then toys with them to stave off my boredom, reconstructing them. If I feel like it, I may even verbalize them so that a simpleton like you can understand. It¡¯s often too much trouble, though. Do you understand?¡±


    ¡°There you go again, calling me a simpleton and whatnot.¡±


    ¡°What, I can¡¯t?¡± Victorique sounded genuinely curious. Her emerald eyes flickered.


    Kazuya sighed. ¡°Never mind. I¡¯m already used to it.¡±


    ¡°That won¡¯t do. Acclimation is the death of intelligence. Reflect on that.¡±


    ¡°Reflect? Who, me? I highly doubt I¡¯m the one who needs to do some reflection.¡±


    Kazuya was mad, but he couldn¡¯t really stay furious.


    Normally, Kazuya would never allow anyone to call him, a bright man representing his country, a simpleton, but when this eccentric, crazy little girl who had never attended class¡ªyet somehow able to skim through difficult books with ease¡ªsaid it, he couldn¡¯t say anything back.


    Even now, he still didn¡¯t know much about Victorique. Some said she was the illegitimate daughter of a nobleman. Her family feared her so they sent her to this school because they didn¡¯t want her staying in the house. Her mother was a famous dancer who went crazy. She was the reincarnation of the legendary gray wolf. The school rumors were often dubious, like most horror stories.


    Kazuya himself had never asked Victorique about her personal life. Partly because he thought asking such questions was distasteful, and partly because Victorique, despite her petite frame and dignified demeanor, emitted a ferocious aura that intimidated those around her.


    Several months had passed since he¡¯d met her, months spent trying to get close to this tiny, wild critter. Kazuya often found himself wondering why he was even doing all this, but like he always did, he climbed the maze-like stairs again today just for this odd girl. Such was his exchange student life so far.


    ¡°By the way, Victorique,¡± Kazuya said, keeping his spirits up. ¡°I had some business in the village.¡±


    Victorique was absorbed in her reading, chewing on a whiskey bonbon. ¡°You went to the post office to get your mail, no?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I actually asked my family to send me a certain book, but I don¡¯t think they received my letter in time. I got some allowance from my eldest brother instead. He wanted to share a little of his first paycheck as a scholar.¡±


    ¡°Ahuh.¡±


    ¡°So, since I got some extra cash, I got you this.¡± Kazuya confidently presented the Indian turban.


    Victorique raised her head, and after casting a weary glance at the headdress, she turned her gaze back to the book. A second later, her eyes darted back to it. ¡°What is that?!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a hat. What else would it be?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a hat?!¡±


    An unexpected bite. Kazuya was disappointed at her reaction, however. She was shocked, not delighted.


    ¡°¡­Is it weird?¡± he asked.


    ¡°It is!¡±


    ¡°I-I see¡­ I¡¯ll just return it, then, if you don¡¯t want it.¡±


    Dejected, Kazuya reached for the turban, when Victorique spun around, snatched it away, and whirled back to her original position. She placed the turban on the floor opposite from Kazuya, hiding it with her own body.


    Kazuya looked at her curiously. ¡°Do you want it?¡±


    ¡°I just said it was weird. I never said I didn¡¯t want it.¡±


    ¡°But if it¡¯s weird, I¡¯ll have it exchanged with something you¡¯ll like. I knew I should have gotten a lace collar or a pretty ring. I think I got tricked. That nun did look like she had a few screws loose¡­¡±


    Victorique was hunched over, eagerly fiddling with the turban. She looked like a cat playing with a new toy, adorable in a way, but after a while, she tossed the turban aside.


    ¡°I¡¯m sick of it.¡±


    ¡°Now, listen here. You don¡¯t play with hats. You wear them. You haven¡¯t even tried it on yet.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m bored.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ Wait, you¡¯re bored? Did you really say bored?¡±


    Sensing trouble, Kazuya rose to his feet, ready to run away. ¡°I gotta head back to the dorm¡­¡±


    Victorique cast him a sidelong glance, and before he could walk away, pulled on his pants.


    Kazuya fell hard and slammed his face on the floor. ¡°Ouch!¡±


    ¡°I said I¡¯m bored.¡±


    ¡°And I heard you! What do you want me to do about it? Oh, right!¡± He bolted upright. ¡°I totally forgot about the other souvenir. While I was buying the turban, a strange incident occurred. A theft.¡±


    After purchasing the turban, Kazuya turned to leave, when the nun running the bazaar recommended a small music box. As soon as Avril picked it up, the music box broke apart and a pigeon flew out from inside. While everyone was looking at it, the expensive plate on display at the bazaar vanished into thin air.


    The police officers who rushed to the scene performed a body check on all the shoppers present, including Kazuya and Avril. The nun was frantic, but the plate was never found.


    Thanks to the commotion, Kazuya and Avril returned late, past the school¡¯s curfew, and had to stand in front of the closed iron gate for a while.


    While Kazuya was explaining the situation, Avril pulled him away and led him to a hidden hole through the hedge.


    After breaking curfew again last week, Avril used a hatchet to chop a couple of the hedge¡¯s sturdy branches just in case.


    ¡°We shouldn¡¯t do this,¡± he had said, but returned to the campus through the hole anyway.


    That¡¯s why there was a leaf on Kazuya¡¯s head from a tree not found in the academy.


    ¡°Sounds really strange, doesn¡¯t it?¡± Kazuya said. ¡°The music box was the size of the palm of my hand, not big enough to hide a pigeon inside. But as soon as it broke apart, a white pigeon flew out. At the same time, the expensive plate disappeared. No one in the area left in a hurry, but it was nowhere to be found.¡±


    ¡°¡­Is that it?¡± Victorique yawned loudly.


    Kazuya blinked. She stretched and fiddled with the hat again.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s only one culprit, Kujou. They were right beside you.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°What a simple fragment. I wouldn¡¯t even call it chaos. Ah, I¡¯m bored. I think I might die. That¡¯s how terribly boring it is, you dolt.¡±


    Kazuya was a little pissed. ¡°Then why don¡¯t you wear that hat?¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡±


    Victorique wore the turban like a crown, her long, golden hair hanging down her back. It was just the right size for her small head. She looked like a princess from a faraway desert country.


    Kazuya was wondering whether to compliment her or not, when he heard footsteps from far below. Big feet in leather shoes. As he looked down the railing, his eyes met with the person standing on the first floor¡¯s hall.


    Kazuya turned to Victorique. ¡°Guess who¡¯s back.¡±


    ¡°¡­Hmm? She frowned a little.


    Clang! Clang Clang!


    The hydraulic elevator started to move.


    Victorique shifted a bit.


    Clank!


    The steel cage made a loud noise and stopped in a small elevator hall in front of the conservatory. A young man was standing inside.


    The cage squealed open, revealing a man with a weird hairdo striking a pose, one arm stretched upward, and the other on his waist.


    He wore a classy three-piece suit with a fancy ascot. Silver cuffs gleamed on his wrists. He would¡¯ve been hands-down dashing if it weren¡¯t for the weird hairstyle. The tip of his bright blond hair was shaped like a drill, making him look like a human weapon.


    ¡°He¡¯s probably here to ask you about the case I just told you about,¡± Kazuya whispered.


    Victorique yawned once more, seemingly uninterested.


    The man¡ªInspector Grevil de Blois¡ªsauntered in, his leather boots clicking. Victorique¡¯s half-brother, he became a police detective by using his noble status.


    He turned to Kazuya and Victorique, and with utmost confidence said, ¡°I wanted to talk to you guys about something¡­¡± He shut his mouth.


    His face slowly turned pale. His mouth was agape, his eyes wide open, and his fingertips trembled as though he had seen a ghost.


    Astonished, Kazuya looked around. There was Kazuya, his little friend Victorique¡ªstill wearing the turban¡ªa pile of books, candies, and a conservatory.


    Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing to elicit such a reaction.


    Inspector Blois was white as a sheet, his mouth flapping open and shut, but he eventually managed to speak. ¡°Cordelia¡­ Gallo?! What are you doing here¡­?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just me, Grevil.¡± Victorique said calmly. She removed the turban, and her silky, golden hair cascaded down.


    Inspector Blois¡¯ pale face gradually turned red with anger. ¡°I-I just got confused!¡± he barked, irritated that he shouted out of fear.


    ¡°Who¡¯s Cordelia Gallo?¡± Kazuya asked.


    The two siblings, who looked nothing alike, ignored Kazuya¡¯s question.


    Kazuya hung his head. ¡°Fine. I won¡¯t ask. Tsk.¡±


    Not paying any attention to Kazuya, Victorique smoked her pipe. Inspector Blois also took out a pipe and lit it. Two wisps of smoke slowly rose toward the skylight.


    A while later, Inspector Blois began to speak.

 Volume 2 - CH 1.5

    The light streaming through the garden¡¯s skylight slowly waned as clouds drifted in and blocked the sun. A brief moment later, the sun came out again, softer than before, shining on the three. A gentle breeze blew past, rustling the large, thick, tropical leaves a few times.


    ¡°So, the Dresden Plate on display at the church bazaar vanished into thin air,¡± the inspector said, staring straight at Kazuya. ¡°The police searched the shoppers, but they couldn¡¯t find anything. The plate was about the size of a man¡¯s head. It wasn¡¯t something that you could easily hide in your clothes.¡±


    ¡°I know that. I was there,¡± Kazuya murmured. ¡°Why don¡¯t you ever look at Victorique?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about. I only came here to ask you, a witness, some questions. It seems there¡¯s someone else here, but I can¡¯t really see them. Now, then¡­¡±


    Inspector Blois sat back down with his left ear pointed in Victorique¡¯s direction so he could hear her. His pointy hair glittered gold under the light of the sun.


    Victorique continued reading. A glimpse of the book¡¯s title indicated that it was the same book she had mentioned earlier, a history of Eastern Europe from ancient times to the Middle Ages, written in dense and fine letters. She was leafing through the pages swiftly.


    She looked up and yawned, seemingly bored out of her mind. ¡°Like I said, Kujou, the culprit was someone right beside you.¡±


    ¡°Who?¡± Kazuya asked curiously.


    Inspector Blois leaned forward, pushing him away. ¡°I get it. It¡¯s the foreign exchange student!¡±


    ¡°Why would Kujou¡¯s companion steal the plate? And she was searched along with him. There was one other person beside Kujou. The only one who wasn¡¯t searched. Think.¡±


    She buried her face back into her book. Kazuya and Inspector Blois looked at each other, and racked their brains.


    ¡°One other person¡­ You mean the nun?¡± Kazuya said.


    ¡°Yes.¡± Victorique nodded. She returned to her world of books, like she had forgotten about the two.


    A few seconds of silence passed. Victorique, smoking her pipe, lifted her gaze.


    Kazuya and Inspector Blois looked as if they wanted to say something, and were waiting for Victorique to notice them. Victorique removed the pipe from her mouth, picked up a macaroon lying on the floor with her other hand, peeled off the wrapper, tossed it into her small mouth, munched on it, took a breath, and said, ¡°Why are you staring at me?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re waiting for you to verbalize your reasoning.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t get it?!¡± Victorique regarded them with a look of pure astonishment.


    She put the pipe back in her mouth, took a drag, then pulled it away again. After exhaling a puff of smoke, she reached for another macaroon and tossed it in her mouth, munching away. ¡°You two are really stupid.¡±


    ¡°What did you say?!¡± Kazuya snapped.


    Victorique¡¯s eyes widened in shock. Inspector Blois¡¯ face turned violet with anger, and he fell silent.


    ¡°The nun is the only person who could have stolen the plate,¡± Victorique said. ¡°At least, going by what you¡¯ve told me, Kujou. Listen carefully. As soon as your companion picked up the small music box at the nun¡¯s suggestion, it broke apart. It was designed that way. At the same time, a white pigeon flew out from inside, drawing the attention of all the villagers in the square. But the pigeon did not actually come out of the music box.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°It came out from under the nun¡¯s skirt.¡±


    ¡°H-Her skirt?¡±


    ¡°Kujou, you said it yourself. A nun, who¡¯s supposed to be proper and modest, was sitting with her legs spread like a man. You found it odd. There was a reason for that. She was hiding something between her legs.¡±


    Kazuya recalled the scene that day. The nun sitting with her legs spread open. Her body garbed in a stuffy navy blue nun¡¯s habit, long enough to cover even her feet.


    ¡°She probably prepared some kind of container between her legs and put the pigeon inside. The moment a shopper came and picked up the music box, she would lift up her skirt and release the pigeon. If they timed it right as the music box exploded, it would look like the pigeon came from inside. While the villagers were distracted by the pigeon, she would hide the plate in her skirt, then scream that the plate was gone.¡±


    Kazuya, astounded, glanced back and forth between Victorique and Inspector Blois.


    ¡°But the nun¡¯s the one running the bazaar,¡± he said. ¡°Why would she steal her own goods?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll have to ask her that. You mentioned that she reeked of alcohol. Sounds like there¡¯s more to her than meets the eye. Besides, the items sold at a bazaar are the property of the church, and the proceeds of the sale would not go to her. Including her in the list of suspects makes sense. And¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°Her habit and shoes need to be examined thoroughly. You said that her black leather shoes had white stains. Those were probably droppings from the pigeon she hid under her skirt. How would pigeon droppings get on her shoes that were supposed to be hidden by her long habit? I doubt she would have a convincing explanation.¡±


    Victorique gave a weary yawn, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She stretched, then returned to the world of books.


    Kazuya cast Inspector Blois a sidelong glance. Usually, he¡¯d scurry out of there as soon as he learned the truth, but for some reason, he was deep in thought, arms folded and wearing a stern expression.


    ¡°Inspector? Is something wrong?¡± Kazuya asked.


    ¡°Darn it.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s nothing!¡± The Inspector rose to his feet and walked toward the elevator.


    He looked over his shoulder once, looking like he had something to say, but he kept his mouth shut and entered the metal cage.


    ¡°Inspector?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    Clang! Clang Clang! The elevator descended.


    Inspector Blois¡¯ quick footsteps on the ground floor gradually faded. Once it was quiet, Kazuya turned to Victorique.


    ¡°By the way¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­Hmm?¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s Cordelia Gallo? Why was the Inspector so surprised?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    Victorique turned her back on him and buried her face into her book. Kazuya clicked his tongue, picked up a macaroon, and popped it into his mouth.


    The sun was slowly going down. The wind had stopped blowing, the leaves quiet and still once more.


    A thin wisp of white smoke rose from Victorique¡¯s pipe to the skylight.


    A heavenly tranquility blanketed the conservatory, as it had for the past three hundred years.


    The next morning.


    Kazuya woke up in his dorm room right on time.


    The boys¡¯ dormitory was specifically designed for the children of nobility, each individual room luxurious and comfortable. Desks and beds made of fine mahogany. Closets with beautifully-embroidered curtains. Pitchers made of polished brass. Floors covered with soft and fluffy carpets.


    Only one boy occupied each room, so they were usually a little messy, but Kazuya¡¯s room was always neat and tidy, and if there was even a speck of dust, he would pick it up and throw it in the trash.


    That morning, Kazuya woke up, washed his face, changed his clothes, organized his bag, straightened his back, and went down to the dining hall on the first floor. Since most of the other male students were asleep until the last minute, he was usually the only one¡ªat most there would be three of them¡ªthere.


    The sexy, red-haired dorm mother was sitting cross-legged on a wooden chair in the corner. She was reading the morning paper, holding a cigarette in her mouth with a frown.


    When she saw Kazuya, she got up and served him a breakfast of bread, fruit, and lightly-sauteed ham. Kazuya thanked her, and started eating, stealing glances at her all the while. When she noticed, she asked, ¡°Wanna read it?¡± and handed him the paper.


    Kazuya read the morning paper from cover to cover as he ate his breakfast. ¡°Huh? Something¡¯s not right.¡± He looked puzzled.


    Just yesterday, Victorique solved the mystery of the Dresden Plate theft. Inspector Blois usually took credit for solving the crime as soon as he learned who the culprit was. But this case was different.


    The Great Inspector Blois Admits Defeat! The Missing Dresden Plate Nowhere to be Found.


    They clearly had not caught the nun.


    ¡°That¡¯s odd. He usually arrests the culprit right away and the next morning¡¯s paper is filled with praise for him. What¡¯s going on here?¡±


    Now that he thought about it, Inspector Blois was acting a little strange before he left yesterday. His face was pale, he was unusually quiet, and he looked like he had something to say.


    ¡°Hey, Kujou.¡±


    Kazuya looked up and saw the dorm mother beckoning him over.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°You know the classified ads at the bottom of the morning paper? I always love reading that section.¡±


    ¡°Why is that?¡±


    ¡°Because it¡¯s interesting. There¡¯s ads addressed to runaway girls, job hunts, and every once in a while there¡¯s a questionable ad that smacks of crime. And today¡­¡± She pointed at the ad section.


    Kazuya scanned the content, and inclined his head. It read¡­


    Descendants of the Gray Wolves.


    Midsummer Feast is near. We welcome you all with open arms.


    It was followed by a brief description of the route to a small town called Horovitz, near the border with Switzerland.


    ¡°What is this?¡± Kazuya asked.


    ¡°I have no idea. But the Gray Wolves are a popular stuff of legend in Sauville. You know how different countries have their own folklore, like vampires and the Yeti. In Sauville, it¡¯s said that silent Gray Wolves live deep in the elm-covered mountains.¡±


    ¡°They say that Gray Wolves are way smarter than humans,¡± she eagerly added. ¡°So when a child that was too smart was born, the mother would be accused of bearing the child of a wolf and kicked out of the village. Well, that was a long time ago.¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­¡±


    Kazuya remembered the story about Victorique being the reincarnation of a Gray Wolf. He had always wondered why they called her that, and now his questions were answered, if only a little.


    It¡¯s because she¡¯s too smart.


    ¡°Oh, morning!¡± The dorm mother looked up. Noble children who woke up later were coming down the dining area.


    As soon as they spotted Kazuya, they cast their eyes downward and silently sat down far away from him. Kazuya had gotten used to it. He stood up, not paying them any attention.


    Casting a sideways glance at the dorm mother serving food to the students, he left the dining hall. As he walked down the corridor, he remembered the advertisement.


    ¡°Maybe it¡¯ll help kill her boredom,¡± he mumbled to himself, then returned to the dining hall. ¡°Can I borrow the paper?¡±


    ¡°You can have it,¡± the dorm mother said. ¡°I¡¯ve already read it.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Tucking the paper under his arm, Kazuya left.

 Volume 2 - CH 1.6

    Kazuya stepped out of the dormitory, straightened his back, and walked down the path to the main school building. Along the way, he spotted his homeroom teacher, Ms. Cecile, standing on the lawn, her head slightly tilted to the side.


    A brunette with a petite frame and shoulder-length hair, she wore large round glasses, and had a somewhat childish air about her. For some reason, she looked downcast so early in the morning.


    ¡°Good morning, Teach.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Kujou.¡± She smiled.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    ¡°Uhm¡­ well¡­¡±


    Ms. Cecile pointed to some trees beyond the lawn, toward the tall hedge that separated the campus grounds from the outside.


    ¡°There were beautiful violets blooming in that area, but it looks like someone stepped on them yesterday. It¡¯s a shame. Why would anyone go through there? There¡¯s no path or anything. There¡¯s just a hedge beyond that.¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­ Huh?¡±


    Kazuya held his tongue. Oh, crap.


    He was in the area yesterday when he and Avril sneaked in through a hole in the hedge after being late for curfew. Maybe they were the ones who stepped on the flowers.


    Not noticing his ashen face, Ms. Cecile walked away, crestfallen.


    Noon.


    After quickly finishing his lunch in the school¡¯s vast cafeteria, where sunlight poured in through the mosaic glass ceiling, he got up. Avril, slicing her bread, spotted him. She followed him with her gaze, wondering where he was going.


    Kazuya headed for the library on the outskirts of the campus. The wind was stronger than yesterday. It made for a chilly weather, despite summer fast approaching.


    Not a single student was hurrying away from the school building at this hour. Kazuya hunched his shoulders as he stumped down the empty, narrow gravel path.


    ¡°Victorique?¡± he called as he climbed the narrow, wooden stairs, fully knowing that she wouldn¡¯t answer.


    Up¡­ Still going up.


    When he finally made it to the top, Victorique was there as always, with several large leather-bound books spread in a circle around her. She was sitting¡­ no, today she was lying on her stomach, elbows propped on the floor, her puffy cheek sitting on her small palm. She held a ceramic pipe on her other hand as usual, bringing it to her mouth and smoking it.


    ¡°You¡¯ll get your clothes dirty lying around like that.¡±


    ¡°Was there an article in the paper that caught your attention?¡±


    Kazuya opened his mouth, then closed it without speaking. Wondering how she knew everything, he plopped down beside Victorique.


    ¡°Ow!¡±


    His butt crushed something round and hard. He jumped up. It was candy that Victorique had left scattered all over the floor. A macaroon sprinkled with cocoa powder.


    ¡°Another mess,¡± Kazuya said wearily. ¡°Why don¡¯t you get a jar or something? I sat on one of your candies.¡±


    Victorique looked up. Her emerald eyes grew wide in shock. ¡°Aaaaaahhh! My macaroon!¡±


    ¡°Crushed into smithereens. I¡¯m throwing it out.¡±


    ¡°No. Be responsible and eat it.¡±


    ¡°Come on. It¡¯s practically powder.¡±


    ¡°Kujou¡­¡± She stared at him for several seconds. ¡°Eat it.¡±


    ¡°¡­Yes, ma¡¯am.¡±


    Kazuya reluctantly brought the crushed macaroon into his mouth. Chewing, he sat back down beside Victorique and showed her the morning paper he got from the dorm mother. She kept her face in her book, not sparing him a glance.


    ¡°Inspector Blois had not solved the Dresden Plate theft,¡± he said.


    ¡°¡­Ahuh.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you surprised?¡±


    ¡°It looked like there was more to the case. But I didn¡¯t want to get too involved with the men of the Blois family.¡±


    ¡°Huh¡­¡±


    ¡°They all have weird hairdos.¡±


    ¡°¡­All of them?!¡±


    Victorique raised her head and yawned loudly. ¡°It¡¯s probably genetic.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not how genetics work. Besides, your hair is normal.¡±


    ¡°I have my mother¡¯s genes.¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Kazuya nodded.


    With a distant look, he thought about the family that he had left behind in a faraway island country across the ocean. His father was a soldier and a strict man who always did the right thing, a man among men. His two older brothers were like their father, men of high caliber, perhaps too high for his taste as to be a little rough around the edges. His mother, on the other hand, was a gentle and kind woman, and his sister, who was two years older than him, was as lovely as his mother. Sometimes he wondered why he didn¡¯t take after his father, despite being a boy, but he never said it out loud because it seemed like he was forsaking his beloved mother and sister.


    ¡°¡­I guess I take after my mother too,¡± he mumbled.


    There was no reply. Kazuya glanced at Victorique. She removed the pipe from her mouth and stretched in the manner of cats. He did not expect her small body to extend as much as it did.


    ¡°Did you come here to tell me about Grevil?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Well, there¡¯s that too.¡±


    ¡°You seem to have taken a liking to my pumpkin-headed brother. You¡¯re monitoring his every move.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the exact opposite! I dislike him.¡±


    ¡°I know. I was joking. I like it when you get mad. It¡¯s entertaining. When it comes to Grevil, you have a very low boiling point. I find it very strange, and a little amusing at the same time.¡±


    ¡°So, sue me.¡± He stretched his knees, then opened the paper to the page with the classified ad and showed it to Victorique.


    She gave the ad a tired, cursory glance, then bolted upright. She snatched the paper from Kazuya¡¯s hand and brought her face so close that her eyelashes almost touched it. From left to right her head moved, over and over.


    ¡°Descendants of the Gray Wolves¡­ Midsummer Feast is near¡­¡±


    ¡°Weird, huh? The dorm mother says the classified ads range from message to runaways, job hunts, to mysterious ones that reek of crime. This one is particularly cryptic. You said you were bored, so I got you a mystery to¡­ What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    Abruptly Victorique rose to her feet. She moved like a puppet that had its spring wound. Her face was pale, not as pale as Inspector Blois¡¯ yesterday, but enough to see that she was agitated.


    ¡°¡­Is something wrong?¡±


    Victorique was about to break into a run, when she tripped over Kazuya¡¯s leg and fell flat on the floor with a loud thud. Kazuya could see the soles of her small, buttoned leather boots. Her white, frilled petticoat and embroidered bloomers bounced up for a moment before slowly settling back down on her body.


    ¡°Victorique?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    The silence stretched for a while.


    Victorique sprang upright. She didn¡¯t say anything.


    Kazuya peered into her face. ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    She held her face with her small hands. ¡°It hurts.¡±


    ¡°I can imagine. That was quite the sound.¡±


    ¡°It hurts.¡±


    ¡°Ahuh.¡±


    ¡°I said it hurts!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t take it out on me. You tripped on your own.¡± For once, Kazuya had the high ground, so while he was concerned, his voice was tinged with joy. ¡°Seriously¡­ Are you all right? Come on, get up. Where were you going anyway?¡±


    ¡°I was trying to get the book that¡¯s on the shelf on the right side, seventh rack from the top, thirty-first volume to the right. Kujou, go fetch it.¡±


    ¡°Me?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a thick, riveted book with a brown leather cover.¡±


    ¡°¡­Fine.¡±


    Victorique was still cupping her face, so Kazuya reluctantly went a little down the stairs and reached for the book that she asked for. The wooden staircase swayed precariously with his every movement.


    Victorique came down, and with her boot, kicked Kazuya from behind. For such a ferocious move, there wasn¡¯t much power in it, as though a mere child had pushed him, but being in a perilous position, Kazuya lost his balance and almost fell.


    He tumbled down the stairs. ¡°Wh-What the hell was that for?!¡±


    Victorique scoffed. ¡°I suggest you be careful as well.¡±


    ¡°You kicked me on purpose!¡±


    Wrapped in a tempestuous atmosphere, the two returned to the conservatory. Victorique set the book down before her. Flipping through the pages in a familiar manner, she tossed a macaroon into her mouth and threw the wrapper aside. Kazuya quickly picked it up and shoved it in his pocket.


    ¡°Since Sauville¡¯s olden days, there¡¯s been one particular supernatural tale that¡¯s prevalent the deeper you go into the mountains. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve heard of it. It¡¯s the story of the Gray Wolves.¡±


    Kazuya nodded.


    ¡°Most of the tales are entirely made-up, but there is one credible source. The diary of an English traveler, written in the sixteenth century. I¡¯ve been thinking about this account for a long time.¡±


    Victorique showed Kazuya the book. He peeked at it gingerly, fearing it was written in Latin or Greek, but fortunately it was in English. Confused by the old turn of phrases, Kazuya struggled to read the account.

 Volume 2 - CH 1.7

    It was the year 1511. I was lost in the mountains near the border between Sauville and Switzerland. I had not hired a guide, my compass was out of order, and I wandered aimlessly through the dark forest. Night came. Fearing the presence of beasts, I built a fire. Wild animals are afraid of fire. It was almost midnight when ¡°he¡± appeared.


    It was a young male wolf. A wolf with a silvery gray coat. Unlike other animals, he was not afraid of fire. He stepped on the fallen leaves and approached slowly.


    Just when I prepared myself for the worst, something amazing happened.


    The wolf opened its mouth, revealing a crimson tongue. But he wasn¡¯t trying to eat me.


    He was trying to talk.


    The Gray Wolf was quiet, with an intelligence and calmness far beyond his age. Perhaps he had very few people to talk to, being deep in the mountains. He asked me questions, and I answered. Questions about the profound mysteries of this world, and the history of man and beast. Before I knew it, dawn was breaking, and he showed me the way out of the forest.


    When we parted, I made a promise to the Gray Wolf.


    ¡°I will never tell anyone that I met a wolf who speaks human tongue.¡±


    But I couldn¡¯t keep my promise. When I returned safely, I couldn¡¯t resist telling my wife, who told her brother. Eventually, it reached the ears of government officials, and they questioned me in detail about the place. They made me promise the same thing.


    ¡°Never speak of it.¡±


    A year later, I visited the same mountains.


    When I reached the place where I met the Gray Wolf, I found a small village nearby. I failed to notice it a year ago because it was nighttime. But the village was uninhabited. It had been burned to the ground, abandoned.


    The faces of the government officials flashed through my mind.


    Was it my fault for breaking my word?


    I called out to the young male wolf.


    There was no answer.


    Then, I heard the crunch of fallen leaves.


    I turned around and saw a silhouette disappearing into the depths of the forest. Through the trees, I glimpsed the color gray.


    Howls rose in the distance, howls of countless wolves. I quickly descended the mountain. Suddenly I felt terrified. Terrified of the sin I¡¯ve committed. But as I ran, all I could think about was one thing.


    They were alive. They had escaped.


    They were still in the mountains¡­


    Kazuya managed to read the whole page. He took a deep breath and faced Victorique. ¡°I¡¯m done.¡±


    Victorique looked stunned. ¡°You just finished reading?¡±


    ¡°Well, I apologize for not being able to read as fast as you.¡±


    ¡°Your mediocrity amazes me. I thought you fell asleep with your eyes open.¡±


    His brows furrowed. ¡°Ugh¡­ darn it¡­¡±


    Paying no heed to Kazuya, Victorique took the book. ¡°There used to be many folktales involving wolves in this kingdom,¡± she began, flipping through the pages. ¡°Not the bloody kind, with man-eating wolves and werewolves who hunt people on moonlit nights. I¡¯m talking about The Silent Gray Wolf, The Furry Philosopher, and so on. There are various theories about this. In my opinion, there are many things that can only be understood once you leave this kingdom and think with a broader perspective. So anyway, the problem is that legends involving the wolves began in recent centuries. If you read books from the 13th century, for example, you will find no mention of them. In other words¡­¡±


    Kazuya stared blankly at Victorique as she continued talking. He couldn¡¯t understand a word she was saying, so he was getting bored.


    Speaking of which¡­


    Suddenly, he recalled Victorique¡¯s fall earlier. She kept saying it hurt.


    I wonder¡­ Is she sensitive to pain? I guess everyone hates pain, but she was acting like it was the end of the world or something.


    Remembering the momentary high ground he had earlier, Kazuya smiled.


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡± Victorique asked. ¡°You¡¯re creeping me out.¡±


    ¡°Can you turn to me for a sec?¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡±


    Kazuya lightly flicked Victorique¡¯s wise and brilliant white forehead, and chuckled. He meant it as a joke. He made sure that it didn¡¯t hurt, but for some reason, tears began forming in her emerald eyes.


    ¡°Ahaha. I got you, didn¡¯t I? Uh¡­ V-Victorique?!¡±


    ¡°I-It hurts.¡±


    ¡°No way. It was just a light flick. You¡¯re overreacting.¡±


    ¡°It hurts.¡±


    ¡°That can¡¯t be right.¡±


    Shielding her forehead with her small hands, Victorique backed away. She looked baffled and frightened, as though she were a small cat that had been suddenly kicked by her caring owner.


    ¡°Why are you looking at me like that?!¡±


    ¡°Kujou, I never thought you were that kind of man.¡±


    ¡°Huh? F-Fine. I apologize. I¡¯m sorry, okay? Did it really hurt that bad? But¡­ Okay, I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°I will never speak to you ever again. We¡¯re done!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re kidding, right?¡±


    For a while, Kazuya chuckled at Victorique¡¯s overreaction, but then he realized that no matter how much he tried to talk to her, she didn¡¯t respond, completely ignoring him as if he wasn¡¯t there. It made him sad at first and then angry.


    This is just like Inspector Blois ignoring Victorique. I get it. If they don¡¯t like someone, they ignore them.


    Kazuya stood up, indignant. ¡°If there¡¯s anyone who¡¯s being mean here, it¡¯s you. I gave a proper apology, but your ego¡¯s too big. Fine. I don¡¯t care anymore.¡±


    Victorique did not say anything back. Smoking her pipe, she immersed herself in her book as if there was no one else around.


    ¡°So you care more about your books than me.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Fine. I¡¯m never coming back.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°I mean it. I¡¯m never, ever coming to the library again¡­ you¡­ you crybaby!¡± Leaving the newspaper behind, Kazuya shuffled down the narrow wooden staircase.


    Down¡­ Down he went¡­


    Still going down.


    He almost tumbled.


    When he finally made it down to the hall on the first floor, he looked up at the ceiling regretfully. He glimpsed a small face looking down, but it disappeared the next moment.


    ¡°Seriously¡­ What¡¯s her deal?¡± Kazuya mumbled. ¡°I¡¯m never coming back.¡±


    An iron bell rang in the distance, signaling the start of afternoon classes.


    ¡°I really mean it¡­¡±


    When he opened the heavy door, he was greeted by warm sunlight and the chirping of birds. Kazuya left the library dejected. The doors slowly closed behind him. Filled with the smell of dust, and dirt, and intelligence, the library was blanketed in a dignified and tranquil atmosphere once more.


    It was utterly quiet.


    St. Marguerite Academy at night was wrapped in dead stillness, as though the world had ended. The school building and dormitories stood quietly as if deserted, surrounded by a thickly-forested garden, the trees casting dark shadows on the ground. From time to time, pale moonlight filtered through the branches and leaves, only to be blocked out by clouds, leaving only a profound darkness.


    At this time of night¡ªit was only a little past seven, not exactly late¡ªthe students were studying in their rooms. The dormitory leader, a senior student, made regular rounds through the rooms of the underclassmen, while the housemaster, a school staff, monitored the comings and goings of students from their office at the entrance.


    The dormitory leader, perhaps fearful of the rumors of the Reaper, usually passed by Kazuya¡¯s room without checking inside. Not that there was any need to check on him. He always had his thick textbooks open to review the day¡¯s lessons and prepare for the next day. He also studied English and French and Latin¡ªespecially Latin, which he was not very good at.


    That night, Kazuya was studying at his desk by the window, mumbling Latin words to himself.


    The wall-mounted gas lamp flickered.


    Textbooks and stationery were lined up neatly on the thick desk. Kazuya¡¯s face was the very picture of seriousness.


    ¡°Hmm?¡±


    He lifted his head for a moment, but before he could turn his eyes back to his textbook, a puzzled expression flashed across his face, and he looked out the window again. Peered at the darkness outside.


    The gobelin curtains were open to let the moonlight in, and the French windows were ajar.


    He thought he saw something moving slowly along the dark pathway outside.


    What?!


    A little spooked, Kazuya opened the French window wide and peered down outside.


    From his small room at the end of the second floor, he had a good, albeit distant, view of the grass-covered grounds and the dimly-lit pathway that meandered through the trees.


    Whatever it was he saw was crawling very slowly along the path.


    It was a huge suitcase.

 Volume 2 - CH 1.8

    A large travel suitcase was moving slowly despite there being no one pulling on it. It moved about ten centimeters forward, stopped for a few seconds, and then moved another ten centimeters or so. It repeated this over and over.


    The pathway was in the far distance, and the light provided by the moon was faint, but with everything else completely still, the bizarre lumbering suitcase stood out like a sore thumb.


    The suitcase is moving on its own?


    It seemed to be heading in the direction of the academy¡¯s main gate.


    Kazuya just stood there for a while, stunned. A moment later, he snapped back to his senses. He tossed aside his textbook and pencil, and stood up.


    He carefully reached for the thick tree branch leaning against the window. He was never good at climbing trees, but when he was younger, his boorish older brothers used to laugh at him when they left him up trees or drifting in the river. They weren¡¯t tormenting him on purpose¡ªno, there was no malice in their actions. It was just their way of having fun with their younger brother, albeit in a rough manner. They believed that boys liked to climb trees and play in the river.


    With the skills he was forced to develop in those days, Kazuya deftly slid down the tree trunk.


    There was only one thing on his mind. A mystery¡­ A moving suitcase under the moonlight! He meant to share this matter to his peculiar friend, Victorique, as a gift.


    Kazuya swung down from branch to branch, and, though a little scared, jumped the last two meters to the ground.


    Whoosh! The branches shook wildly.


    He rose to his feet and walked across the lawn, careful not to make a sound. Slowly, he approached the dark pathway.


    The suitcase was still slowly but surely moving somewhere.


    Kazuya was thrilled. He was looking forward to going back up the library and telling Victorique about this mystery.


    He went around the suitcase to get a better look, but as the angle changed, he saw something that brought a baffled look to his face. Eventually, his puzzled expression turned into one of exasperation.


    On the other side of the suitcase were small feet, clad in lacy leather shoes. The fringes on the hem of her elegant dress swayed slightly as she moved, and the velvet ribbon on her hat flapped in the night breeze.


    Is that Victorique?


    ¡°You there,¡± Kazuya called from the lawn. ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    The suitcase stopped abruptly.


    The sudden male voice startled Victorique. Kazuya peered further into the other side of the suitcase. She was pushing the huge bag with her small hands.


    When Victorique refused to answer, Kazuya dashed across the grass to the pathway. As he neared, he saw that the trunk was very large. It looked like it could fit both him and Victorique inside.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Kazuya asked once more.


    ¡°Uhm¡­¡±


    Victorique was about to say something, but she clamped her mouth shut. Feigning ignorance, she resumed pushing on the suitcase.


    ¡°Are you going somewhere?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Victorique?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°You said you weren¡¯t allowed to leave the academy without permission. Besides, the main gate is locked.¡±


    It goes without saying that students of St. Marguerite Academy were not allowed to go out after curfew. The gates were locked shut. If they went out without permission, they would be banned from going out on weekends for a while, and the academy might even report them to their parents.


    As for Victorique¡­


    Kazuya was not privy to the exact details, but she could not leave the academy. The one time she was allowed to, Grevil de Blois asked for some kind of special permission and had to accompany her.


    ¡°¡­¡±


    Victorique did not answer Kazuya.


    The suitcase was slowly moving toward the main gate at a speed of fifteen centimeters per minute.


    ¡°Wh-Why aren¡¯t you saying anything?¡±


    Victorique whirled around, astonished. Her face was twisted in disbelief.


    ¡°Wh-What is it?¡± Kazuya asked dubiously.


    ¡°Hmm¡­!¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t talk? Oh, I get it. Cavities.¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­?!¡± She looked frustrated.


    ¡°Both your cheeks are all puffed up.¡±


    Victorique furrowed her brows and clenched her teeth as if to say her cheeks have always been that way.


    ¡°Are you going to the dentist?¡± Kazuya asked, oblivious to the aura she was emitting. ¡°You don¡¯t need this much, then. Can you open it? Whoa, what¡¯s all this stuff? A change of clothes, a big mirror, a chair?! A tea set for ten people, a vase big enough for you to fit in, and¡­ is this a cot?! Where on earth are you going? Are you moving overseas or something? Your luggage is bigger than last time. You¡¯re such a handful.¡±


    He began reducing her luggage. Victorique flailed about in silent protest.


    He went on anyway. ¡°If you have a toothache, you gotta stay put.¡±


    ¡°Hmm?!¡±


    Tears welled up in the corner of her eyes as she held her puffed-out cheeks.


    A while later.


    ¡°Remember. As soon as your appointment¡¯s done, we¡¯re going home straight away. Also, make sure you keep this hole a secret. Otherwise, Avril¡­ the student who made it will get into trouble.¡±


    With one hand carrying Victorique¡¯s mini-suitcase¡ªnow with the reduced luggage inside¡ªand the other holding her hand as she flailed to free herself, Kazuya headed for the hole in the hedge that Avril had told him about.


    After hiding Victorique¡¯s excess luggage in the shrubs, Kazuya went back to his room to get his wallet and jacket and returned to show her the way.


    He glanced back at Victorique. She wasn¡¯t looking very happy.


    ¡°Oh, shoot. I forgot!¡±


    Victorique¡¯s face lit up, thinking he had finally remembered.


    Kazuya pointed to the ground. Beside the small laced leather shoes were violet buds glistening in the night dew, swaying softly.


    ¡°Try not to step on the flowers. Ms. Cecile will be sad.¡±


    Victorique looked a little despondent.


    Once outside the academy, Kazuya held Victorique¡¯s small hand tightly so she wouldn¡¯t wander off somewhere. Her luggage was surprisingly heavy, but this brilliant and sharp-tongued girl, who had rarely gone outside of the academy, could end up getting lost if left alone. She might cry because she doesn¡¯t know how to commute, or fall into an old well or an animal pit, unable to climb back up.


    The various scenarios made Kazuya pale. He squeezed her hand even more tightly.


    As if to disregard his concern, Victorique swung her hand around wildly¡ªupwards, downwards, to the right and to the left¡ªin an attempt to break free.


    ¡°Ow, my shoulder¡­ You¡¯re dislocating my shoulder!¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Where to the dentist?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    Victorique walked in silence, and Kazuya reluctantly followed.


    They eventually arrived at a place they had been before¡ªthe only station in the village. The round clock gleaming in the middle of the small triangular roof showed it was past seven thirty.


    Kazuya¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°The station?! Are you taking the train? Where on earth are you going? Not the dentist¡­?¡±


    Victorique entered the station building, completely ignoring him. She shook her hands free to buy a ticket, and told the station clerk her destination in a low voice.


    Kazuya pulled on Victorique¡¯s hand. ¡°You can¡¯t go far. They¡¯ll find out you left the academy!¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Besides, I only have my wallet with me.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s head back. Seriously, what¡¯s going on with you?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡± She broke free from his grip and walked away.


    Kazuya quickly told the clerk, ¡°One ticket, please! Same destination as the girl!¡±


    ¡°Are you going to Horovitz?¡±


    ¡°Horovitz¡­?¡±


    Kazuya nodded swiftly, took the ticket, paid for it, and ran after Victorique. She was already in the middle of the platform.


    He quickly caught up with her. ¡°Victorique¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    Victorique did not answer.


    The small station platform shook beneath their feet from the vibration of the oncoming train. Stars were twinkling in the sky above.


    Someone else was coming out of the ticket gate and onto the platform.


    The black steam locomotive arrived at the station with a plume of smoke.


    The conductor disembarked and pulled a brass lever to open the door.


    Victorique got on board. Confused, Kazuya followed her inside.


    The conductor blew his whistle, and the door slammed shut.


    Horovitz¡­ That¡¯s the name of the town in the classified ad.


    Kazuya recalled the mysterious newspaper ad. It read: Descendants of the Gray Wolves. Midsummer Feast is near. We welcome you all with open arms.


    There were directions on how to get to Horovitz, a small town near the border with Switzerland. A town at the foot of mountains much further than here¡­ Why would she go there?


    Disregarding his worried look, Victorique stayed silent.


    As for Kazuya, he showed no sign of remembering why she wasn¡¯t talking.


    Come to think of it, she turned pale when I showed her the ad. The rumor about Victorique that Avril told me about¡­ Victorique de Blois is a legendary Gray Wolf. Then there was the curious name that Inspector Blois blurted out, Cordelia Gallo. There¡¯s so much I don¡¯t understand. And Victorique¡¯s not talking¡­


    What a mess..


    Victorique was sitting on one side of the box seat. Despite her tiny frame, she occupied the whole seat for two with her lace and frills. She stayed still, like a doll on display, only her emerald eyes blinking from time to time.


    She looked downcast, less spirited than usual. But her cheeks were still a warm, rosy color, as though she had applied a dab of blush to them.


    The door to the compartment suddenly opened, admitting a young woman. Kazuya jumped in surprise.


    It was probably the other passenger who entered the station earlier.


    ¡°Not a lot of passengers at this time of night,¡± they said. ¡°It feels lonely. Mind if I join you two?¡±


    A slightly husky, but coquettish voice, sweet as lilac perfume. It sounded familiar.


    ¡°Not at all,¡± Kazuya said, glancing up.


    The person looked surprised. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s you.¡±


    ¡°Ah, yeah¡­¡±


    Standing there was a woman garbed in a stuffy nun¡¯s habit, with bluish gray eyes that evoked images of dry desert skies.


    It was the young nun who stole the Dresden Plate at the bazaar.

 Volume 2 - CH 2.1

    Every night, memories of blood come flooding back to me.


    It happened a long time ago, but night after night, I remember the colors, the sounds, the feel, so vividly.


    The dagger, with its brass ornaments, buried up to the hilt.


    The setting sun burning like flame outside the rough glass window.


    The blue velvet curtains rustling faintly in the wind.


    The blade gleaming reddish black, protruding from the chest of a man who toppled without so much as a shriek.


    How after he drew his last breath, there was an otherworldly silence, a silence so deep and profound.


    How I stood there until the sun had sunk completely and darkness blanketed the room.


    I remember coming to my senses and returning to my original spot, swallowing the joy slowly welling up inside me.


    And that voice. That lovely voice.


    I¡¯ve never seen anything so beautiful!


    It was as if it all happened just a few moments ago.


    I can¡¯t forget.


    Are you trapped?


    People call us Gray Wolves. But they are wrong.


    Wolves do not kill their own kind. Especially not for a reason like that.


    Chapter 2: The Squirrel in the Hat Box


    A while later, Kazuya and Victorique disembarked at a certain station and transferred to a train heading deep into the mountains.


    Using something called the Abt rack system, the locomotive was fitted with cog wheels that meshed with the rack rail, allowing it to climb steep slopes. Unlike the previous train, the interior was very bleak. There were no ornate windows, hanging silk curtains, or other decors. The lights were dimmer, and the temperature a little lower.


    Chug, chug.


    The train lurched into motion, rocking from side to side. Kazuya could feel the cogs grating against the rail through the floor.


    The interior of the car was bathed in a pale light that tinted Victorique¡¯s rosy cheeks a faint shade of blue. She was sitting quietly beside Kazuya. The dim light from the bluish-white, wall-mounted lamp fell on the two of them.


    The compartment¡¯s flimsy door flung open, and a young woman entered.


    ¡°Oh, yet another weird coincidence.¡±


    It was the same nun from the other train.


    ¡°You¡¯re here too?¡± Kazuya said, startled.


    ¡°Yeah. Seriously, where are you two headed?¡±


    ¡°I wish I knew,¡± he mumbled to himself, glancing at Victorique.


    Victorique remained firmly silent and ignored Kazuya. Whenever he asked her questions, she got more mad, leaving him confused. At first he thought it was because of a toothache, but apparently not. He realized later that her swollen cheeks were not really swollen; they were always puffy to begin with.


    The nun plumped herself down in front of them. Kazuya looked uneasy. He had been wanting to tell Victorique about the nun. He couldn¡¯t talk about her while she was around, so he planned to bring it up once they had switched trains. But he didn¡¯t expect the nun to board the same train as them again.


    Without much of a choice, Kazuya decided to communicate with Victorique using gestures¡ªto tell her that this nun was the culprit behind the Dresden Plate theft.


    For some reason, Inspector Blois never apprehended the culprit, and the case was going cold.


    Gesturing, Kazuya tried to tell Victorique about the music box that exploded, how it startled everyone, then a pigeon flew from under the nun¡¯s skirt, drawing everyone¡¯s attention, and then there was a big fuss about the missing plate. She ignored him, turning her back and sticking her face to the window like a child.


    It was pitch-black outside. She couldn¡¯t possibly see anything.


    Kazuya stopped, hanging his head. He glanced at the nun sitting in front of them.


    The pale lamplight danced from left to right as the train rocked. Her bluish-gray almond eyes, bright and full of life during the day, now seemed uncanny and empty. Her eyelashes cast long shadows on her freckled white cheeks.


    The lamplight flickered on her pale face, shining and dimming. Watching her made Kazuya feel jittery.


    ¡°Where in the world are you two going?¡± the nun suddenly asked. Her bright voice was a sharp contrast to the sinister vibe around her. ¡°It¡¯s only mountains from up here.¡±


    ¡°¡­Yeah.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the middle of the night.¡±


    ¡°What about you? Where are you headed?¡±


    The nun closed her mouth. She stared at Kazuya. ¡°¡­What about you?¡±


    ¡°Uhm¡­ We¡¯re headed to Horovitz¡­¡±


    ¡°Really? I¡¯m headed there as well. No wonder we¡¯re on the same train.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­ What¡¯s your business up there?¡±


    ¡°What about you?¡±


    Kazuya closed his mouth, perplexed. She kept answering his questions with her own questions. After some thought, he said, ¡°Just some stuff. What about you?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ It¡¯s the town I grew up in.¡±


    ¡°Really?! What kind of a town is it?¡±


    Regret flickered across her face. She shouldn¡¯t have said that. With a muted click of the tongue, she said, ¡°Just a normal town.¡± She didn¡¯t say any more.


    Victorique glanced at the reflection of the nun¡¯s face on the window. A brief look. The nun noticed and shot Victorique a vicious glare, but she had already returned her gaze back outside the window, her face propped in her hand. After some thought, the nun pulled her eyes away from the little girl.


    ¡°My name¡¯s Mildred,¡± the nun said. ¡°Mildred Arbogast. What¡¯s yours?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Kujou. Kazuya Kujou. This is my friend Victorique.¡±


    ¡°Who was that girl with you yesterday?¡± she asked in a teasing tone.


    Kazuya was taken aback. ¡°Yesterday?¡± he asked back, confused. ¡°Oh, the girl who was with me at the bazaar? Her name¡¯s Avril. We¡¯re in the same class.¡±


    ¡°Speaking of yesterday, what happened after that?¡± he added. ¡°You know, with the stolen plate.¡±


    ¡°Who knows? It was the last I saw of it.¡± She sounded disappointed, but there was clear delight on her face. It looked like she would burst into laughter at any moment.


    ¡°I wonder who took it¡­¡±


    ¡°Who, indeed? How did they do it? It¡¯s all a mystery.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh, look. We¡¯re almost there.¡±


    Changing the subject, Mildred pointed out the window.


    Before they knew it, the train had entered the mountains and was nearing Horovitz station.


    The town on the classified ad.


    There was only one inn in town.


    ¡°Mountain climbers? None here,¡± the innkeeper said. ¡°The incline¡¯s too steep around these parts. No one climbs further up unless they have a very compelling reason.¡±


    The town was practically deserted. The cobblestone street in front of the inn¡ªthe main street, it seemed¡ªwas almost devoid of people. A curious, state-of-the-art German car was parked in front of the inn, its shiny body out-of-place in the town¡¯s dreary landscape.


    Kazuya was staring at the carcass of a bird hanging on the front door of the run-down inn. It had an arrow sticking out of it. A strong gust blew, ruffling the bird¡¯s feathers. Blood was dripping from its wound, forming a small pool on the cobblestone entrance.


    The roof of the inn creaked as the wind howled in, carrying a peculiar smell¡ªthe smell of wild animals.


    ¡°Gonna be a storm tonight,¡± the innkeeper continued. ¡°You should stay inside.¡±


    Kazuya turned around. ¡°Why is that?¡±


    ¡°Because wolves come out on nights like this.¡±


    ¡°Wolves?¡±


    ¡°Gray Wolves.¡±


    Victorique, standing in front of the innkeeper¡¯s creaky reception table, abruptly looked up. Noticing her reaction, the innkeeper bent down and brought his face close to hers, like he was trying to frighten a child.


    ¡°Gray Wolves live deep in the mountains around here. On windy nights, they come down and hunt people. If you don¡¯t want them to devour the flesh off your pretty cheeks, don¡¯t leave your room, little girl.¡±


    When Victorique showed no sign at all of being scared, the innkeeper hung his head low, dejected.


    ¡°There¡¯s legends about the Gray Wolves all over the kingdom, huh?¡± Kazuya said.


    ¡°Oh, but they¡¯re not just legends here in Horovitz. They¡¯re real.¡± He pointed at the door. ¡°That dead bird is there to keep the Gray Wolves away. Apparently, they don¡¯t like birds. I don¡¯t know if that¡¯s true, though. There are wild wolves in the forests around here too, so we have to be careful. But there¡¯s a village of real Gray Wolves deep in the mountains. We¡¯ve lived in fear of them for four hundred years.¡±

 Volume 2 - CH 2.2

    Mildred returned from checking the rooms. Footsteps so loud that it was hard to believe they belonged to a woman came clomping down the stairs. Kazuya remembered the time he met the nun at the flea market. Her crude mannerisms left quite the impression on him.


    After getting off the train and arriving at Horovitz, it didn¡¯t seem like the inn would allow Kazuya and Victorique to check in alone, so they came here with Mildred. Perhaps the nun¡¯s attire proved effective; they were able to check in without being asked any questions.


    The innkeeper continued his story as he carried their luggage up the stairs to the second floor. ¡°The village is inhabited by werewolves. They may look gentle, but you must not offend them. They possess extraordinary looks, and are very intelligent, but otherwise, they¡¯re an enigma. You must take care not to incur even their slightest wrath.¡±


    ¡°You say werewolf¡­ do you mean normal people live in the village?¡± Kazuya asked.


    ¡°They look normal, yeah.¡±


    They reached the second floor. The dim hallway¡¯s parquet flooring squeaked with their every step. The white plaster on the walls was turning a darkish brown color, peeling in places. The faint light from the wall-mounted lamps quivered when the floor shook.


    The innkeeper showed them to their respective rooms.


    Outside the windows with their old beaded curtains, the night-shrouded mountains seemed to loom over them.


    The innkeeper raised his voice. ¡°They look human, but they¡¯re not.¡±


    ¡°¡­You¡¯re kidding.¡±


    ¡°Think about it. Their hair, their skin, living in secret deep in the mountains.¡± His shoulders trembled in horror. ¡°Wavy golden hair, white skin. Rosy cheeks and petite frames. They all look exactly the same. The people of Sauville have various body types and hair colors. Brunette, brown, red. But not them. L-Like¡­¡± His eyes darted to his little guest, Victorique, and his face scrunched up. ¡°Yes¡­ The silent Gray Wolves look just like her.¡±


    After checking his room, Kazuya peeked into the next room and saw Victorique resting.


    ¡°Is there anything I can help you with?¡± Kazuya asked.


    When Victorique heard his voice, she spun around, turning her back to him. She was silent.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong, Victorique?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Tsk.¡± Baffled, Kazuya closed the door.


    What in the world is going on with her? he wondered as he walked down the hallway. She doesn¡¯t say a word, she left the academy without explaining anything, and came all the way here. If the teachers found out, there would be a lot of trouble. There¡¯s Inspector Blois, too¡­ Victorique¡¯s family won¡¯t keep quiet about it.


    He recalled the time when Victorique was given special permission to go outside the academy. Every experience seemed new to her¡ªriding a train, disembarking at a station, walking down the streets of the big city. There was a reason she could not leave the academy that Kazuya could not fully understand. He remembered the looks of genuine relief on the faces of Inspector Blois¡¯ men when they found that she was safe after the ship sank.


    What would happen if they found out that Victorique had left the academy without permission, boarded a train, and traveled all the way here?


    Why would you come here? What¡¯s in that classified ad?


    But there was no point in worrying about it now. She would not listen to him. He would have to stick with her until she returned safely to the academy. She might be smart, but she had rarely gone out. Who knows what would happen if he left her to her own devices?


    Kazuya quietly descended the stairs. The innkeeper was reading a magazine while sipping on some cheap drink.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± Kazuya called.


    The moment he brought up the classified ad, the innkeeper said in an exasperated tone, ¡°Oh, so you¡¯re also here for that.¡±


    ¡°Well, uhh¡­ Wait, also? There are others?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. See the German car parked out front?¡±


    Kazuya nodded, remembering the luxury automobile parked in front of the inn.


    ¡°Three young men were on it. They asked me the same thing. The classified ad piqued their interest, so they traveled all the way here. They seemed to be in it for the fun, so I gave them a warning. Do not go to the Village of the Gray Wolves out of mere curiosity.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­¡±


    ¡°They just laughed at me the whole time, saying it¡¯s all just superstition.¡± His voice dropped low, as if talking to himself. ¡°They have no idea the trouble they¡¯re getting into.¡± The gas lamp dimmed for a moment, and his lined face darkened. ¡°There will surely be blood. The silent Gray Wolves will not let their curiosity go unpunished.¡±


    The lamp flickered back to life.


    ¡°They¡¯re staying on the third floor,¡± the innkeeper said, his voice bright. ¡°If you¡¯re headed to the same place, you can try talking to them in the morning. They¡¯re idiots, but they¡¯re nice people.¡±


    ¡°Okay¡­¡±


    ¡°They were excited about driving up the mountain, but the incline¡¯s too steep for cars. You should talk to them about chartering a carriage together.¡±


    ¡°Got it. Can you tell me the name of the village?¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t have one.¡± The innkeeper¡¯s face contorted, and in a hushed tone, he added, ¡°It¡¯s been that way for the past four hundred years. They don¡¯t give their village a name. No one knows why. It¡¯s what makes it terrifying. We live in constant fear of them.¡± His voice sounded like a dead man¡¯s.


    A chill crawled down Kazuya¡¯s spine. He thanked the innkeeper.


    Before he walked away, he remembered something. ¡°That reminds me, where is Mildred¡¯s house? Why is she staying here with us?¡±


    The innkeeper looked up. ¡°You said something?¡±


    ¡°The nun with us said she grew up in this town.¡±


    ¡°¡­That can¡¯t be right.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a small town. Everyone remembers the kids who left. Especially if they joined the Church. We¡¯re religious folks around here, you see.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°You probably heard wrong. We don¡¯t know her.¡±


    Kazuya bid the innkeeper goodnight and headed back to his room.


    As he walked down the first-floor hallway toward the stairs, he saw Mildred coming down the stairs, and stopped. Their eyes met. She gave a start.


    The muted lamplight shone faintly on Mildred¡¯s freckled skin and melancholic, bluish-gray eyes.


    ¡°What are you wandering around for?¡± she asked.


    ¡°N-Nothing¡­¡±


    ¡°Go to bed,¡± she said in a somewhat hard tone, and walked past him.


    Kazuya looked over his shoulder.


    ¡°Can I borrow your phone?¡± the nun asked the innkeeper.


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    He couldn¡¯t tell who she was calling. He tried straining his ears, but decided that eavesdropping was in bad taste. He turned on his heel and climbed up the stairs.


    Kazuya ambled along the second-floor corridor. The parquet flooring creaked with each step he took. The corridor, flanked by white plaster walls, was wide enough for a single person, yet narrow for its high ceiling. It felt suffocating.


    His pace quickened.


    Each time the floor squeaked, the old glass lamps, installed at equal intervals on either side, flickered. Flickers gradually turned to ripples. Kazuya drew a deep breath and exhaled.


    The narrow, high-ceilinged corridor seemed to rock like a ship on sea. He tried to erase the ominous image from his mind.


    If this is a ship¡­


    Yet he couldn¡¯t stop thinking about it.


    If this is a ship, then huge waves must be rocking it. A sign of a coming storm.


    He hurried back to his room. As he turned the corner, his steps now faster than ever, he noticed a large window at the end of the corridor, and stopped.


    Outside, steep mountains sliced through the dark night sky with the sharpness of a saw¡¯s teeth. The moon shone softly above.


    Kazuya approached the window and opened it. A chilly late-night breeze stirred his hair, bringing in the unpleasant smell of wild animal from somewhere.


    A howl rose in the distance.


    This smell must be coming from that dead bird on the front door, he thought to himself. Yes, that¡¯s gotta be it. Nothing more.


    Clang!


    A sound came from behind. He jumped, and looked over his shoulder. Moonlight streaming in through the window gleamed softly on his face.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s just you.¡±


    Victorique had opened her door and was out in the corridor. She was dressed in a white muslin nightgown. Baggy trousers like women¡¯s work pants peeked out from under her ruffled nightwear, tied at the bottom with oceanic-blue laces. Half of her hair was tucked under a glossy, satin nightcap.

 Volume 2 - CH 2.3

    She rubbed her eyes. ¡°Why do you think the squirrel came out of the hatbox?¡±


    ¡°¡­What?¡±


    ¡°Just ask the squirrel in squirrel language.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°By the way, where are we?¡±


    ¡°Wh-What do you mean?¡± Kazuya closed the window and scurried toward her. ¡°Victorique? Hello? Earth to Victorique? Wait, are you sleep-talking?¡±


    She continued rubbing her eyes with her little hands, blinking repeatedly. Her emerald eyes, usually wide open, were only half-lidded.


    ¡°I¡¯m not. How rude. How dare you accuse a lady of sleep-talking? Anyway, where are we?¡±


    ¡°In an inn in Horovitz.¡±


    ¡°Horovitz?¡±


    ¡°You wanted to come here.¡±


    There was a long silence.


    Then Victorique¡¯s face turned a little red. She spun and returned to her room. Kazuya stopped her.


    ¡°What is it?¡± she said.


    ¡°Well, uhh¡­ Sorry to disturb your sleep, but¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sleepy. What do you want?¡±


    ¡°Now that you can talk, I got a couple of questions.¡±


    ¡°¡­Now that I can talk?¡±


    Standing in the corridor, Victorique watched Kazuya¡¯s serious face curiously. Their faces were very close, her faint breathing ticklish on his chin. Victorique¡¯s expression slowly changed. Her green eyes widened. She blinked a few times, and then made a face that said she messed up big-time.


    ¡°Ah!¡±


    ¡°Why¡¯d you keep quiet all this time? Toothache?¡±


    ¡°No!¡±


    Victorique stomped back to her room. When Kazuya followed her, objects started flying from inside toward the door¡ªa cushion, a pillow, then a hat, and finally a shoe.


    ¡°Whoa! Stop!¡±


    He looked inside, and to his surprise, she was trying to lift a chair this time.


    ¡°What are you doing?! What are you so pissed off about?!¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t enter a lady¡¯s chambers!¡±


    ¡°L-Lady¡­? Well, I guess you are one¡­¡±


    Exhausted and breathing hard, Victorique gave up on the chair and plopped down on it. Made of light material, it looked like Kazuya could lift it up and spin it around with Victorique sitting on top of it.


    Perplexed, Kazuya entered the room and stood by the door, leaving it slightly open.


    Victorique glowered at him. ¡°After all that talk about me caring more about books, you already forgot? You¡¯re such a¡­¡± Before she could say any more, she closed her mouth.


    The windows rattled. The wind was picking up.


    Dark clouds hovered over the mountains outside, and heavy, dark-blue skies blotted out the stars.


    Thunder rumbled in the distance.


    ¡°Victorique?¡±


    ¡°¡­I¡¯m done.¡±


    ¡°Done with what?¡±


    ¡°I said I¡¯m done!¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s your problem?!¡±


    Kazuya slammed the wall out of frustration. His fist hurt so much that tears formed in his eyes. He went quiet.


    After a few moments of silence, he said, ¡°Why did you come here, Victorique?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°It has something to do with the classified ad I showed you, doesn¡¯t it? You¡¯ve been acting strange ever since you saw it, and you even snuck out of the academy to come here. You said it yourself. You¡¯re not allowed to leave the academy without permission. You¡¯d stayed put all this time, but as soon as you saw the ad¡­ What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t make me angry, Victorique. You¡¯re acting like your brother, Inspector Blois. The way he ignores you, your turning your back to me, it¡¯s exactly the same. Do you hate me like he hates you? I thought we were friends.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°You said you were one of my few friends.¡±


    It started drizzling outside. A mist had risen, covering the mountains.


    Raindrops pattered on the frosted glass window, trickled down, then disappeared. The room felt a little colder.


    Eventually, Victorique spoke. ¡°I came here to clear someone¡¯s name.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Cordelia Gallo¡¯s.¡±


    Kazuya gazed at Victorique. She was biting her lip and staring at Kazuya with a frown.


    He glanced down the corridor and closed the door so no one would hear them. He moved closer to Victorique. There was only one chair available, so he placed her mini suitcase on the floor beside her and sat down. He glanced up at her.


    ¡°Here.¡± Victorique began groping the breast of her nightgown. She flipped the huge frill. There was another frill, so she flipped that too. And then another one¡­


    ¡°¡­What are you doing?¡± Kazuya asked.


    ¡°Wait!¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    She was still flipping through the frills.


    ¡°Hello?¡±


    ¡°Stay. Stay. Stay!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a dog, you know.¡±


    Victorique lifted her head and eyed him curiously.


    What finally emerged from the tangle of frills was a shiny, golden, round object. Kazuya stared at it for a while and realized that it was a gold coin. It had been turned into a pendant by drilling a small hole and threading a chain through it.


    It looked like a toy made by a child, a mismatch against her luxurious outfit. It was nothing more than a gold coin with a chain.


    ¡°Cordelia gave it to me,¡± Victorique murmured.


    ¡°The same name that Inspector Blois mentioned when he saw you wearing that turban.¡±


    ¡°Cordelia Gallo is my mother.¡± Her voice was low.


    Victorique flipped the pendant over and showed it to Kazuya. He reached for it like a knight accepting a gift from a woman of nobility.


    On the other side of the gold coin was a small photograph.


    A black-and-white photo of Victorique de Blois.


    Her long hair was pulled back, like she did when she wore the turban, and she wore glamorous makeup. There was something really off about her seductive, red lips. She had an allure that wasn¡¯t quite like Victorique¡ªthe allure of an adult.


    ¡°Is this¡­ you?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Victorique shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s Cordelia Gallo. My mother.¡±


    Kazuya swallowed.


    Rain began pouring down from the night sky, battering against the windows.


    Victorique sat still on the chair, biting her lip.


    ¡°My mother was a dancer,¡± she began. ¡°She used to appear on stage in her garments of woolen cloth and exotic makeup, and was very popular. But there were all sorts of incidents wherever she went. They say she was an enigmatic woman.¡±


    Victorique¡¯s voice was flat and calm, the same voice she used when she was on the top floor of the library, surrounded by books and tropical trees.


    Rain continued to fall. The room was getting a little chilly. Kazuya was sitting on the mini suitcase, holding his knees and looking at Victorique.


    ¡°My mother got involved with Marquis de Blois at some point and gave birth to me, but then disappeared afterwards. I grew up isolated in a room on top of the marquis¡¯ tower. I never knew my mother until she came up the tower one night and gave me this gold coin pendant. She was outside the window, but I recognized her immediately, because she looked just like me.¡±


    ¡°Outside the window? Of a tower?!¡±


    ¡°Cordelia is very acrobatic. And I mean, very.¡±


    Kazuya fell silent.


    ¡°My mother is always watching over me.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­¡±


    ¡°She came from a village believed to be where the legends of the Gray Wolves originated. The people of that village had lived deep in the mountains since the early sixteenth century, cut off from civilization. They were small, golden, very wise, but incredibly mysterious. It¡¯s difficult to find people from that village in the city, because they rarely leave the village. But Marquis de Blois wanted to introduce their special power into his bloodline. When he learned that a popular dancer was from the village, he made her his own. He wanted a boy, but a girl was born¡ªme. Later on, I learned why my mother was banished from her village. She had worked as a maid there, but one night she committed a horrible crime. She was a criminal. Marquis de Blois regretted introducing our accursed blood into his bloodline. And because I was unusual, he felt scared. I was locked up in that tower and raised there. Books and time¡ªplenty of it¡ªwere the only things he provided. My mother ran away and threw herself into the Great War that began soon after.¡±


    Victorique paused. She took the pendant from Kazuya¡¯s hand and wrapped it around her neck. The simple, gold coin pendant sank back into the frilly depths.


    ¡°I¡¯ve always wanted to learn about the village where my mother was born.¡±


    ¡°Ahuh¡­¡±


    ¡°Everything goes back to that night. The night my mother committed the horrific crime. If not for that, she would not have been banished from the village. And I wouldn¡¯t have been born.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want that.¡±


    Victorique¡¯s green eyes widened in surprise. Then she pressed her hands to her lips and chuckled.


    Kazuya blushed. ¡°Wh-Why are you laughing?¡±


    ¡°You are one amusing man, Kujou.¡±


    ¡°Sue me.¡±


    Victorique laughed. She then raised one hand and pointed to the door.


    ¡°You may leave. I¡¯m going to bed.¡±


    ¡°O-Okay. It¡¯s a lady¡¯s room, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to bed. Right now. Get out of here.¡±


    ¡°All right, all right! Sheesh¡­ Good night, Victorique.¡±


    Kazuya got up. When he made it to the door, he thought he heard Victorique say something and turned around.


    It was just his imagination. Victorique¡¯s mouth was closed. But she was staring at him.


    ¡°What is it?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I came to clear my mother¡¯s name.¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡±


    Kazuya stared back at her, puzzled. Victorique¡¯s familiar face seemed distant, like that of a stranger. He felt uneasy.


    ¡°This is war,¡± she said. ¡°A war between the village of the Gray Wolves and her.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ see.¡±


    ¡°And I am not going home until Cordelia Gallo wins.¡±


    When he stepped out onto the corridor, he heard the faint closing of a door.


    He looked around and saw the door to Mildred¡¯s room quivering.

 Volume 2 - CH 2.4

    The next morning.


    While Kazuya and Victorique were having breakfast of tea, bread, and cold ham in the inn¡¯s dining room, a group of young men came down the stairs.


    A man of medium build with a beard and horn-rimmed glasses was talking rapidly without pausing. He seemed to be the talkative type.


    Another man of about the same height, wearing an expensive-looking tailored jacket and a shiny gold watch, was chatting along with a wonderful smile. He had a high-pitched and resonant voice.


    A large man with a stoop to his back was following behind them. When he noticed Kazuya and Victorique, he turned a little red and greeted them with a muffled voice. He seemed to be a very shy young man.


    They settled down on some chairs, poured milk into their tea, and dug into the chunks of bread. They had huge appetites.


    The talkative man with the beard and horn-rimmed glasses introduced himself to Kazuya and Victorique. According to him, they were students at an art university in Sauville, studying painting. They enjoyed traveling, and the three of them went around the countryside together, drawing sketches.


    ¡°This guy¡¯s family is loaded,¡± he said, clapping the man with the gold watch and fine jacket on the shoulder. ¡°See that car outside? Derek¡¯s parents got it for him.¡±


    Derek was about the same size as the bearded man Alan, but he had a smooth, feminine face. The last one, the tallest of the three, introduced himself as Raoul in a muted voice. He was extremely shy; just saying his own name made him blush.


    Alan bragged about driving to the village of the Gray Wolves in a state-of-the-art German car. He sang praises of Derek¡¯s parents for buying it. It was apparent that they were traveling on Derek¡¯s wallet. Alan constantly put Derek on a pedestal, but he seemed to be the leader of the group. Raoul was silent the whole time, wearing a smile. He was a quiet young man who barely had any presence.


    The innkeeper brought more tea and interrupted the conversation. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to disappoint you, but you can¡¯t get to the village of the Gray Wolves by car. The incline¡¯s too steep.¡±


    ¡°Oh, come on!¡± Derek exclaimed.


    Shocked, Alan made a big fuss about it. Raoul remained silent, looking uneasy.


    ¡°You should charter a carriage. A horse should manage.¡±


    Derek nodded in resignation, but Alan didn¡¯t stop grumbling. Raoul watched the bearded man awkwardly.


    Mildred, the last one awake, plodded in with loud footsteps. She gave a big yawn. ¡°Mornin¡¯!¡± she greeted, then sank to a chair.


    Kazuya yelped. The nun reeked of alcohol again. The three college students also noticed the smell and regarded Mildred curiously.


    ¡°These kids are going to the same place,¡± the innkeeper continued. ¡°You should all go together. With five people, you¡¯d pay less per person.¡±


    ¡°Make that six.¡± Mildred groggily raised her hand.


    Everybody looked at her in surprise.


    ¡°I¡¯m going too,¡± she said.


    ¡°¡­Why?¡± Kazuya asked.


    She gave him a sharp glare. ¡°Why not? I wanna go too. A carriage for six, then. Nice to meet you three.¡±


    The three college students nodded, bewildered by Mildred¡¯s sour breath.


    Thunder rumbled in the distance.


    It sounded like a large knife chopping a chunk of meat on a butcher¡¯s table, dull and muffled. After a few claps of thunder, the overcast morning sky fell silent.


    Large raindrops fell on the clothes of the people standing in front of the inn.


    ¡°There¡¯s your ride,¡± the innkeeper said, pointing at a carriage lumbering down the street. ¡°The driver¡¯s skills are top-notch.¡±


    It was an old four-wheeled carriage pulled by two horses. The driver was an old man with a long beard that covered half his face. Although he was old, he had strong, thick arms and broad shoulders noticeable even through his cloak that looked as ancient as the carriage itself.


    As the carriage neared, the driver said, ¡°Driving a car there is unthinkable. Even a horse-drawn carriage can¡¯t get up there unless the driver¡¯s good.¡±


    According to the old man, the people of the nameless village told him that if any guest wishing to get to the village after seeing their advertisement arrived, he should give them a ride. But the fare he asked for was much higher than the normal rate. When Kazuya tried to protest, Derek produced a thick wallet and immediately paid.


    The driver goggled at the wallet. Regret clouded his face, as though he wished he had asked for more. Before Kazuya could say anything, Alan stopped him.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± he said. ¡°That¡¯s nothing to Derek.¡±


    ¡°Can I chip in a little?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all good. Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± he said proudly, as if he had paid for it.


    Kazuya¡¯s eyes met Raoul¡¯s. The big, quiet man shrugged in agreement with his friend.


    The six of them sat facing each other, three on each side, with their luggage in their arms. The carriage began moving slowly, trundling along the cobblestones. When they reached the peaty mountain road, the carriage started rattling. They had made it to the steep incline. The carriage rocked incessantly, as if a giant had grabbed it from above and shook it wildly.


    ¡°I feel sick,¡± Mildred mumbled.


    The three men, who had been having a nice chat, exchanged glances.


    ¡°Hungover, Sister?¡± Alan asked on behalf of the group.


    Mildred shook her head, unwilling to even open her mouth.


    Victorique reached for the window and opened it slightly. The falling rain made fine patterns outside.


    Tangles of brown, thorny shrubs lined both sides of the road. The rain couldn¡¯t so much as jiggle them. Soon a fern and moss-covered bank came into view, with a sheer cliff down below. A little mishandling of the horses would send them plummeting headlong into the abyss. In the distance, a hill loomed shadowy in the mist.


    The carriage clattered across a narrow, old stone bridge. Cold, muddy river winding through the valley rushed past underneath.


    The trees were taller on the other side of the river. Blackish soil lay beneath olive-colored vegetation that wobbled in the light rain. They had been climbing for a while now. The trees grew taller and the forest darker. It was daytime, yet the forest was shrouded in a jet-black darkness. It felt like they had wandered into a nightmarish realm. Oak trees, bent and twisted perhaps by the wind and rain, intertwined, forming silhouettes shaped like hunched backs.


    ¡°By the way,¡± Kazuya whispered to Victorique.


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°That nun stole the Dresden Plate at the bazaar, but she hasn¡¯t been caught. She also said she was from Horovitz, but the innkeeper said she didn¡¯t know her. Who on earth is she?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to worry about her.¡±


    Her words left him puzzled. She turned her face away, showing no interest in the subject. Kazuya fell silent.


    The carriage went on for a while.


    Suddenly, it became bright. They had made it out of the woods and onto a strange clearing.


    Surrounded by mountains, it was round like a shallow-bottomed glass bowl. At the basin was a small town of stone houses enclosed by high ramparts.


    No, not a town. A village.


    The carriage stopped.


    The two horses whickered and shook their heads. The driver tried to calm them down with his whip, but they kept on shaking their heads and stamping their hooves.


    The six passengers alighted from the carriage.


    Between the valley and the rugged path was a bluff that served as a massive wall, stretching all the way down. Sharp, jagged rocks glistened on the side of the sheer cliff. There was a white streak far below¡ªa roaring muddy stream. Brown water topped with churning white foam crashed on the rocks.


    Kazuya pulled his eyes away from the cliff, and looked at the gray village made of stone.


    The clouds had lifted, and the morning sun shone down on the rooftops and moss-covered towers. They squinted against the brightness.


    The three young men cheered with absolute glee.


    ¡°Wonderful!¡±


    ¡°Now this is what I call secluded! Incredible!¡±


    The driver frowned.


    Kazuya looked at Victorique. Standing beside him, she was staring at the gray stone village with a blank face.


    On the other side of the cliff was a stone gatepost and a huge iron gate. They were massive, meant to keep outsiders away. High walls surrounding the village prevented intrusion from anywhere. It looked like a walled city from the middle ages.


    The old wooden drawbridge had been raised. Made of flimsy wooden planks, it was turning white from much use. It was just wide enough for a carriage to pass through with a little extra room to spare. Several thick strings stretched across the bridge on both sides in place of railings.


    On the iron gate was a crest of the ominous Gray Wolf.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be taking my leave.¡± The driver turned his carriage around. ¡°According to the villagers, the Midsummer Festival will begin tomorrow morning and end at nightfall. I will pick you up tomorrow evening at this spot.¡±


    The horses whinnied, stamping at the ground.


    As Kazuya looked back at the carriage, he heard a loud rattling behind him. He turned his gaze to the direction of the sound.


    The drawbridge was lowering.


    And the massive iron gate slowly opened.

 Volume 2 - CH 3.1

    ¡ªmonologue 2¡ª


    We climbed a forbidding mountain.


    The road was steep, and the carriage rocked wildly the whole time. Rain continued falling. Hardly anyone in the carriage spoke. There was only the sound of the wheels.


    The little girl opened the window.


    Her companion, an asian boy named Kazuya Kujou, regarded her with concern.


    It was adorable to watch the boy react to the girl¡¯s every move. They seemed to argue a lot. It was obvious to the adults that they got along well, but maybe these kids didn¡¯t see it that way.


    The carriage shook.


    Outside the window, dry branches of tangled trees seemed to go on forever.


    But we have to push on.


    I have to go to that village.


    I cast an eye on the girl.


    Her green eyes were as vibrant as the tropical seas, a sharp contrast to the dark, weather-beaten forest.


    I glanced at the boy.


    Jet-black eyes stared straight at the girl. He looked kind-hearted, but he had a stubborn jaw.


    They don¡¯t know.


    They don¡¯t know about my purpose.


    They have no idea!


    Chapter 3: Cordelia¡¯s Daughter


    It felt as if they had entered a time portal and arrived at a distant medieval village.


    The rain created a thick, milky mist that rolled in from the steep mountains surrounding the village to the small valley, blanketing it entirely like a veil.


    As though entering a room through cream-colored curtains, the party plodded toward the village through the mist.


    The bridge was very old; it squeaked with their every step. A muddy stream rushed far below, crashing onto rocks and churning foams. The wind howled. Their pace quickened.


    As soon as they made it across, the drawbridge was raised once more. There was a stone arch inside the gate, with a turret above it. Several men were pulling the drawbridge. Their long, golden hair, tied back, bounced as they moved their arms. Before Kazuya could call to them, a gust blew, and a thicker mist obscured both the men and the horseshoe-shaped arch.


    The mist shifted, then cleared up, giving them great visibility. The strong wind was deafening. Everyone except Victorique was covering their ears and watching their surroundings warily.


    ¡°Hey, look.¡± Alan pointed.


    The mist was gradually clearing. Kazuya gasped.


    A small village of square, stone houses came into view. Mossy, gray stones arranged in geomatric shapes, as though applying some higher form of mathematics, coherent yet somehow disjointed.


    Open wooden doors creaked in the wind. In the middle of the small square was a well.


    There was no one around.


    ¡°Are these ruins?¡± Raoul mumbled, seemingly overwhelmed.


    Derek nodded. ¡°It¡¯s a medieval village!¡± he exclaimed. ¡°Look at that church¡­¡± He pointed to a tower in the distance.


    ¡°Those spires and those rose windows!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s like the medieval churches in old paintings.¡±


    Alan removed his hat. The three young men stayed silent for a while, staring reverently at the place of worship.


    Kazuya shot them a quizzical look.


    ¡°We¡¯re art students,¡± Derek explained. ¡°We know this stuff.¡±


    Alan whistled with glee. Mildred was quiet and hanging her head, still feeling sick.


    The wind blew again, clearing all the mist this time.


    They froze.


    Men stood in front of them, spears and swords in hand. They were watching the group with nary an expression on their faces.


    Alan played with his beard. ¡°Ghosts?¡± he murmured in a joking tone.


    His reaction was understandable. The villagers were all wearing vintage outfits that matched the medieval look of the village.


    The men wore woolen shirts with leather vests and pointy hats. The women¡¯s skirts were loose and puffy in the back, and their hair was swept back, tucked in laced, round hats.


    Their attire resembled costumes from Shakesperean plays.


    And they all looked similar. Both men and women had long, golden hair, tied tight. They had petite statures, with small, refined faces, like dolls sculpted by a craftsman with painstaking precision.


    The villagers observed them with dark, green eyes. Despite their clean-cut figures, their still faces and dry skin made them look like ghosts.


    A stir ran through the villagers as they regarded Victorique.


    ¡°It¡¯s Cordelia¡¯s daughter.¡±


    ¡°Did you say Cordelia?¡±


    ¡°Look at her face. She¡¯s the spitting image of her.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s bad luck¡­¡±


    Their voices crackled like dead leaves falling. Clangs of steel sounded as the villagers raised their weapons all at once.


    ¡°Stop,¡± said a raspy voice.


    The villagers lowered their weapons. They opened a path, and an old man stepped forward. A man in his sixties, wearing an old frock coat.


    He had long, silvery hair¡ªthey might as well be white at this point¡ªtied back in a tight knot. His sideburns and beard were long, and his eyes were half-hidden by wrinkles and sagging flesh. He held a glossy ebony cane in his crinkly hand.


    The man stood in front of Victorique with his hands clasped together, like a statue of a saint. His still, glassy eyes gleamed coldly.


    He stared down at Victorique. ¡°Cordelia¡¯s daughter, huh? What¡¯s your name?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Victorique de Blois,¡± she answered in a low, husky voice.


    The man swallowed a little. ¡°De Blois? So the blood of the kingdom¡¯s nobility runs in your veins¡­¡±


    ¡°Do you have a problem with that?¡±


    ¡°No. Your mother¡­ Where is she?¡±


    ¡°She disappeared.¡±


    ¡°I see. There is no rest for the wicked.¡±


    Victorique bit her lip. ¡°Cordelia is innocent.¡± Her eyes burned.


    ¡°Talking back to your elders is foolish. Since you did not grow up in this village, you seem to lack the humility expected of a child. Even Cordelia did not disobey me and left in peace. But I digress.¡± The man cast a sweeping glance at the villagers. ¡°This girl is a descendant who came after reading our message. She¡¯s the daughter of Cordelia. But a child does not bear their parents¡¯ sins. She will not be turned away. Let us celebrate Midsummer together.¡±


    The villagers were silent. Dark eyes flickered around, but no one said a word.


    ¡°You will do as I say,¡± the old man continued. ¡°Fret not. Nothing bad will happen. Even if her mother Cordelia¡­¡±


    The wind blew, and the man¡¯s silver beard swayed.


    ¡°¡­is a murderer.¡±


    The old man introduced himself as Sergius, the village chief. He said that the village had been here for four hundred years. They severed contact with the outside world and lived as self-sufficiently as possible.


    He led them through the village. ¡°During the Midsummer Festival,¡± he began, ¡°we welcome the spirits of our ancestors who return home in the summer, and pray for a good harvest. It begins tomorrow morning at dawn and ends at nightfall. I would like all of you to stay here until then.¡±


    ¡°Tomorrow evening,¡± Victorique mumbled.


    ¡°Yes. A little over a day to go. At dawn tomorrow, we will bring out the floats in the square and play instruments to announce to the forest that the festival is about to begin. We then take a break until noon, when the festival starts. The girls throw hazelnuts to signal the beginning of the festival. The young men then dress up in costumes and perform a skit in the square. The skit is about a battle between the Summer Army and the Winter Army, ending with the Summer Army¡¯s victory and the Winter Man¡¯s, the leader of the Winter Army, defeat. After celebrating Summer¡¯s victory, we prepare to welcome our ancestors. It is said that they will come to the square through the cathedral, so it has to be empty of people during that time. At night, selected villagers put on masks, play the role of our ancestors, and dance. Then the festival ends, and we will be guaranteed a year of peace and bountiful harvest!¡± He went on to explain other things.


    Kazuya had been feeling restless after hearing the word murderer. Meanwhile, the three young men were ecstatic.


    ¡°Look at this well!¡±


    ¡°Stone houses, fireplaces, and chimneys. Ugh. Talk about ancient.¡±


    Alan showed off his state-of-the-art wristwatch to the blonde young man carrying a hunting rifle beside Sergius. He appeared to be the village chief¡¯s assistant. He was taller than most villagers and had remarkably handsome features. He glanced at the watch, then stared at it intently.


    ¡°You¡¯ve never seen one of these before?¡± Alan asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t leave the village.¡±


    ¡°Really? Then what do you do all day?¡±


    Alan continued chatting with the young man. After showing his watch, he bragged about his horn-rimmed glasses, then pulled on Derek¡¯s clothes next.


    Sergius frowned, and his long eyebrows twitched.

 Volume 2 - CH 3.2

    The village chief led them toward the square in the middle of the village. There were ramparts only at the entrance, near the bluff. On the other side of the village, along the small, dark forest, stood precipitous cliffs in place of walls.


    It was a small, round village. Kazuya was surprised to find that life in this place had remained exactly the same for hundreds of years.


    Sergius glanced at the forest. Tree branches swayed in the wind.


    The old man snatched the hunting rifle from his young assistant, lifted it, and pointed the muzzle toward the woods.


    Alan and Derek, chatting merrily, did not notice.


    The young assistant gulped.


    A gunshot rang out.


    Alan and his friends jumped and shared looks.


    ¡°Wh-What was that for?¡±


    ¡°Wolves,¡± Sergius said flatly. ¡°There are wild wolves living in the mountains around here. They¡¯re big and quite tough. If we see one, we scare it away like this.¡±


    The young men exchanged glances.


    ¡°Inconspicuous cliffs and wild wolves prevent anyone from entering from the forest,¡± the assistant added. ¡°The only way to safely enter the village is to cross the drawbridge.¡± He pursed his lips in fear and never spoke another word.


    ¡°But Gramps,¡± Alan said, stroking his beard. ¡°The people in Horovitz call you guys Gray Wolves. They say you¡¯re an enigma. Right?¡± He glanced at Raoul.


    His silent friend nodded, his large body shrinking as he glanced at the hunting rifle. The young assistant gulped¡ªhow could the man call the village chief gramps? His eyes darted between Alan and Sergius, wondering if he should get angry for the disrespect.


    Sergius gave a dry chuckle. ¡°Nonsense! We are normal humans. When you live an outdated lifestyle deep in the mountains, people tend to assume a lot of things.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± Alan nodded.


    Derek laughed, and Raoul grinned.


    ¡°We¡¯re of a different race is all,¡± the old man added. ¡°Perhaps the people down there can feel it in their skin¡ªthey sense that we are different. We have not done anything to them.¡± He continued walking.


    Strolling along the cobblestrone street, the group passed through the square and by the church, studying the ancient structure on the way. Behind the cathedral was a cemetery veiled thinly by the mist. Kazuya found it eerie, so he looked away. A dark forest, its trees blanketed by a thick fog, loomed beyond the cemetery.


    Suddenly the path became wider. Before they could enter the woods, Sergius stopped.


    The cobblestone path continued upward at a gentle slope, shrouded by layers of fog like thin organdie curtains. The mist shifted in the wind, and rose. Up ahead, on a blackened hill, was something large, curled up.


    Something gray, with an unimaginably huge body. Mildred let out a shriek.


    A large, gray creature.


    It lay on the dark hill, now, but it looked like it would rise at any moment, turn its head, and pounce at them.


    A gigantic, gray wolf.


    The eerie rumors from Horovitz flashed through Kazuya¡¯s mind. The innkeeper, his face dark with fear.


    Gray wolves live there.


    You must not anger them.


    You must not incur even their slightest wrath.


    Terrifying werewolves.


    A gust of wind blew.


    Huh? Kazuya rubbed his eyes.


    He noticed that the huge figure was made of stone. Nothing but a cold, inanimate object. An illusion, he realized.


    It was a large, darkish gray manor, made of flat stones.


    The tall tower on the left resembled an animal¡¯s head. The pillars by the entrance bore elaborate rosette carvings, and the roof was beautifully decorated. But the stone walls, which might have looked dazzling on a fine day, was an ominous gray.


    It was a mysterious manor, lavish but lacking in color, as if drawn with a brush using only black ink.


    Red unfamiliar flowers bobbing in the breeze were the only thing that provided color in the otherwise bleak surroundings. The narrow flowerbeds were blood vessels twisting around the building, forming curious patterns.


    ¡°This is my home,¡± Sergius said in his raspy voice.


    The group exchanged glances.


    ¡°You will stay here during the festivities.¡±


    The manor was huge and dark and luxurious, with polished mahogany furniture and velvet curtains in every room, vastly different from the crude stone-built village.


    Past the wide foyer was a red-carpeted grand staircase, and beyond that was a hall with a glittering chandelier. Up the staircase, a long corridor with heavy curtains ran the length of the manor. The wall lamps near the ceiling shimmered orange.


    Portraits of their ancestors hung in the dim corridor, handsome and dignified faces, their long golden hair tied back. The face on the portrait closest to them was the youngest, seemingly in their forties.


    While studying the portraits, an innocent, childlike voice came from somewhere.


    ¡°That¡¯s Elder Theodore. The murdered village chief.¡±


    Victorique¡¯s shoulders jerked. They all turned to the direction of the voice.


    A woman was standing there with a lamp in her hand. She was about twenty-five or twenty-six years old. Her hair was a deep golden, tied in complex braids, each length curled up. Her handsome face, however, was devoid of emotion, giving the impression of a broken doll. Her head, cocked to the side, looked like it would fall to the floor at any moment.


    Her glassy green eyes, reminiscent of jade, gleamed in the dark.


    Her attire, old-fashioned like the village chief, marked her as a maid. Her skirt was long and puffy at the back. Her waist was cinched with a corset, and a white collar covered her neck so that no skin was visible.


    Sergius turned around. ¡°Her name is Harminia. She¡¯s a maid in this manor.¡±


    Harminia gave a small curtsy. Her cold eyes regarded Victorique.


    ¡°You¡¯re the spitting image of Cordelia.¡±


    Kazuya swallowed.


    Her voice sounded different this time, low and deep, like a man¡¯s.


    ¡°I was only a child, but I remember well when Cordelia was banished,¡± she continued. Her voice changed from high to low, from male to female, adult to child. ¡°Yes, it was ten years ago. In this manor¡­¡±


    ¡°Harminia.¡±


    ¡°She scattered gold coins in Elder Theodore¡¯s study, and¡ª¡±


    ¡°Harminia.¡±


    ¡°With a dagger¡­¡±


    ¡°Harminia!¡±


    She closed her mouth and lifted her left hand. With everyone watching her, she brought her forefinger to her face, pulled her lower eyelid and rubbed her eye, over and over.


    The group gulped. She was rubbing her eye with considerable force. Capillaries ran like fine, red cracks on the whites of her left eye.


    Rub, rub.


    The white of her eye was exposed.


    Rub, rub.


    Suddenly Harminia pulled her hand away.


    The light from the lamp seemed to dim a little.


    They were gathered around the dining room table for a light lunch prepared by Harminia.


    ¡°The incident happened in the study,¡± Sergius began. ¡°It¡¯s an old room at the back on the first floor. No one uses it anymore, though.¡±


    A marble mantelpiece sat above the fireplace. Glass lamps hung on black-panelled walls adorned with paintings. The room was opulent, yet somehow stifling. Kazuya realized that it was probably due to the low ceiling, both in the room and in the corridor. He felt like he could get crushed at any moment. He thought that perhaps it was because the people of the villager were shorter.


    Sandwiches, tea, and baked goods were all served in old, but well-polished silverware sets.


    ¡°That day, Elder Theodore was holed up in his study since evening,¡± Sergius continued. ¡°When the clock struck twelve midnight, Cordelia¡ªshe was fifteen that time¡ªwould go to change the water in the jug.¡±


    Fifteen years old, Kazuya mused. The same age as me and Victorique right now.


    ¡°Back then I served as Elder Theodore¡¯s assistant, so I was in the manor the night of the incident. As I passed through the hallway with the other men, I saw Cordelia just as she was about to enter the study. She was carrying a crude iron candlestick like she always did. She knocked, then reached for the doorknob. The door didn¡¯t open. It was locked. The door was usually kept unlocked, but sometimes Elder Theodore would lock it when he didn¡¯t want to be disturbed. We passed by Cordelia right when she used her key to open the door. I believe it was exactly twelve o¡¯clock. I looked at my pocket watch, you see. Cordelia was always right on time. But for some reason, the men¡¯s testimonies about the time were mixed, and now I¡¯m not even certain what time it was. In any case¡­¡±


    The three men munched on their food, constantly grumbling about the old ingredients. Whenever Alan said something, Derek would reply in his high-pitched voice. Raoul remained silent, but kept studying and tapping the silverware curiously. All three didn¡¯t seem interested in Sergius¡¯ story, so they barely listened.


    Mildred was quiet, still not feeling well from her hungover. She had barely touched her food.

 Volume 2 - CH 3.3

    Victorique listened to Sergius¡¯ story.


    ¡°Cordelia came running out of the study, screaming. We rushed to her and held her down as she flailed in terror. When I entered the study, it was dark. I held out my candle and found Elder Theodore lying on his face. He was already dead, stabbed in his upper back with a dagger. The bloodstained tip of the blade was protruding from his chest. And for some odd reason¡­¡± Sergius paused, and in a very curious voice, added, ¡°¡­there were a lot of gold coins scattered all over the floor.¡±


    ¡°Gold coins?¡±


    ¡°Yes. About twenty pieces, I believe. But since we don¡¯t use gold coins in this village, Elder Theodore had stashed them away. The gold coins were soaked in his blood and stained red.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°After that, Cordelia was confined to bed with a high fever. Apparently, she kept mumbling ¡°so many round, pretty things¡± over and over. She probably meant the coins. We discussed the matter over while she was bedridden. Ten days passed. When her fever broke and she was able to get up, I, as the next village chief, banished her from the village.¡±


    ¡°You banished her?¡± Kazuya said.


    ¡°I did. I sent her out of the village with a suitcase and one gold coin, then raised the drawbridge. I didn¡¯t even know if she made it down the mountain safely. Wild wolves, steep cliffs, mountain torrents. I didn¡¯t think that a girl, who had never left the village, would make it safely to the town at the foot of the mountain. I still remember her face, clutching a single gold coin, her green eyes filled with tears, looking up at the drawbridge as it rose. Cordelia was an orphan. No one taught her how to climb down the mountain, no one gave her warm clothes or food or anything. Her only guardian was me, the village chief¡¯s assistant. She had no relatives, so I had her work as a maid in the manor. It was I who handed down her punishment. Cordelia must have spent several days climbing down the mountains to the city. It had not even been long since she recovered. But she managed to survive. And now her daughter has come.¡±


    ¡°How¡­ How could you banish her?¡± Kazuya said.


    ¡°We could think of no other culprit than her,¡± he went on. ¡°The study was locked from the inside. She said so herself. There were only two keys. One of them was in Elder Theodore¡¯s person, and the other with Cordelia. Moreover, she said that when she entered the study, she used the candlestick in her hand to look around. There was no one there but Elder Theodore and her. She claimed that he was already dead at that time, but it didn¡¯t make sense. Something must have happened after she entered the study that ended up with her killing Elder Theodore. She then developed a fever, most likely out of remorse.¡±


    ¡°But that¡¯s not enough proof that she¡¯s the culprit.¡±


    ¡°I did not err in my judgment,¡± the old man breathed. ¡°With the death of Elder Theodore, I became the next village chief. My ruling is absolute.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡±


    ¡°Wrongdoers must be dealt with. Otherwise, misfortune will befall the village. It is my duty to protect this place.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Cordelia committed an evil deed,¡± he reemphasized. ¡°That is the only explanation.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d like to see the study,¡± Victorique said.


    Sergius shook his head. ¡°I can¡¯t allow that.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want guests wandering around.¡±


    They were provided guest rooms located on the manor¡¯s third floor. Large canopied beds sat in the middle of the spacious rooms. Huge mirrors that showed the chest up were built into the walls, and glossy velvet curtains hung inside.


    Victorique, Kazuya, Mildred, Alan, Derek, and Raoul were assigned rooms in that order. Kazuya took Victorique¡¯s luggage and carried it to her room. She didn¡¯t so much as glance at him. Her small hand was on her chin in thought.


    Victorique put her pipe in her mouth, and lit it. She then stretched, reached for a string at the edge of the window, and pulled hard.


    The curtains slowly rolled open, revealing a view of stone balconies and dense oak trees.


    Squinting, she stared at the scenery.


    ¡°Is something wrong?¡± Kazuya asked, moving beside her.


    The dreary cemetery behind the old cathedral was visible through the trees.


    Victorique remained silent for a while. Then abruptly she left the room.


    Kazuya quickly followed. ¡°Where are you going?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going for a walk.¡±


    ¡°A walk?¡±


    Victorique did not reply. She placed one hand on the shiny bronze railing and descended the grand marble staircase.


    Harminia, who was cleaning with a brass bucket and a white cloth in her hands, craned her head like a snake and followed the little girl¡¯s figure with her gaze.


    Once she made it past the front porch, Victorique slowed down, allowing Kazuya to catch up. He fell in beside her.


    They passed a few villagers on the cobblestone path. None spared them any glance. Victorique herself walked along without looking at them.


    ¡°Where are you going?¡± a voice called.


    Kazuya spun. He didn¡¯t even notice the young man behind him, almost as if he blended in with the fog.


    His old-fashioned attire, reminiscent of costumes in Shakespearean plays, instantly identified him as one of the villagers. He had long, golden hair tied at the back, and clear, white skin as smooth as a girl¡¯s. His eyes were the same deep green as Victorique¡¯s, but devoid of emotion. His face was as cold as a Noh mask.


    Kazuya remembered him¡ªSergius¡¯ assistant, who was with the village chief the whole time. He had shown genuine surprise at the things that Alan and his friends showed him.


    ¡°I can be your guide,¡± he said. ¡°Oh, my name is Ambrose. Nice to meet you.¡±


    Oh? Kazuya¡¯s impression of Ambrose suddenly changed. Once he started smiling, he started to look like a spirited and cheerful young man. His cheeks were red and full of life. His lady-like, finely chiseled features began showing a charming, joyful expression.


    ¡°It¡¯s been a long time since we¡¯ve had guests from outside, so, uhm, I¡¯m glad. I¡¯ll try not to get too carried away.¡±


    ¡°Are you welcoming us?¡± Kazuya asked, surprised.


    Ambrose fell silent for a bit, unsure what to say. ¡°The villagers don¡¯t like change. They don¡¯t like interacting with people from other cultures. Elder Sergius says the people outside live horrible lifestyles.¡±


    ¡°Do you agree with him?¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± He went silent once more.


    He studied Kazuya¡¯s face and body. Kazuya felt uneasy. Next Ambrose reached out to touch him. His lady-like features made Kazuya reluctant, but he eventually gave in. Ambrose rubbed Kazuya¡¯s cheeks curiously, pulled his hair, and so on. Kazuya tried to bear it at first, but he eventually snapped.


    ¡°What¡¯s your problem?!¡±


    ¡°I was just wondering why your skin and hair color are different. I knew that people in the outside world are not all blonde¡­¡±


    It was apparently the first time he had ever seen an asian. He looked into Kazuya¡¯s eyes, and patted his face.


    ¡°Victorique, help!¡±


    The girl snorted and looked up at Ambrose. ¡°Can you show me somewhere?¡±


    ¡°Just tell me where you want to go,¡± he said with a smile. ¡°In return, can I touch this person a little longer?¡±


    ¡°Feel free.¡±


    ¡°Vi¡ª!¡±


    Victorique turned the other way. ¡°Take me to Cordelia¡¯s house,¡± she said.


    Ambrose¡¯s fingers suddenly turned cold. He pulled his hand away from Kazuya¡¯s face and stared at Victorique. Color had left his face, and only glassy eyes and a blank expression¡ªthe same as the rest of the villagers¡ªremained.

 Volume 2 - CH 3.4

    Cordelia¡¯s house was located in a corner where square stone houses lined the street.


    It stood like a solitary island, far away from other houses, as though being near it was taboo. Withered vines and the elements had formed curious patterns on the walls. The structure was terribly dilapidated.


    After showing them the place, Ambrose quickly left and disappeared into the mist.


    Kazuya was on edge, but Victorique was unconcerned. She put her hand on the doorknob. It was unlocked. The dirt that had accumulated over time blackened Victorique¡¯s small, chubby palm. Kazuya took out a handkerchief and wiped her hands. She brushed him off, then entered the small house.


    It was incredibly old.


    Was every house in the village like this? Surrounded by cold, stone walls, there were only a small kitchen and a bedroom. A meager enclosure too shabby to be called a fireplace was gathering dust by the wall. A worn desk and chair. A small wooden bed with frayed cotton sheets. Each of the furniture was old and shoddy. It was like a reflection of the villagers¡¯ glassy eyes and lifeless faces.


    Kazuya was shocked at how different the house was to the village chief¡¯s manor.


    It¡¯s like a whole different place!


    When his eyes regained focus, he noticed girly decorations here and there. An empty bottle of jam with the remnants of a wild flower sat by the window. The curtains, though tattered, were hand-stitched lace with a lovely pattern.


    Kazuya could tell that a girl indeed lived here. He felt the strong presence of the long-gone girl washing over him.


    Victorique¡¯s treasured photo¡­


    A mysterious, beautiful woman with a face similar to hers, but wearing exotic, glamorous makeup, gazing at him.


    Cordelia Gallo had lived here.


    Victorique looked around the room silently. Her pretty red lips were tightly pursed as she moved from one spot to another, studying things.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Kazuya asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m looking for something.¡± She turned around. Her tightly-knit brows and desperate look made him serious as well. ¡°We can only stay in this village until tomorrow night. After the Midsummer Festival, we will be shown the door. I have to find something before then!¡±


    ¡°R-Right¡­¡±


    Victorique searched around the room, moving faster as time went on. Dust rose, and Kazuya coughed. A while later, Victorique stopped and gave up.


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing,¡± she said.


    ¡°Looks like it¡­¡±


    ¡°I had a feeling that my mother left something in this village. A message. But I can¡¯t find it.¡±


    Victorique bit her lip hard. She crouched down and knocked on the floor with her small clenched fists. More dust rose, and Kazuya coughed again.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    ¡°Knocking on the floor.¡±


    ¡°I can see that.¡±


    ¡°If there¡¯s a spot where it sounds different, it means there¡¯s a hole underneath.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do it, then. Just stand aside.¡±


    Kazuya went down on his knees and began knocking on the floor, starting from the corner. When he was done with the kitchen, he moved to the bedroom. Finally, he found a spot that echoed loudly. Victorique came a little closer.


    They both raised the floorboard, sending a lot of dust in the air.


    Underneath was a small hollow, a shallow square hole that could fit a couple of books. There seemed to be nothing in there at first glance, but a closer inspection revealed a photograph hidden under the dust.


    They exchanged looks.


    Victorique grabbed the old photo and brushed the dust off with her tiny, pale forefinger.


    It was a photograph of a noblewoman.


    Her hair was tied up, adorned with shining pearl ornaments, and she was wearing a dress with a plunging neckline. She was holding something in her arms¡ªa baby, wrapped in a soft cloth fringed with silk and lace.


    A photo of a mother and child.


    The woman was no doubt Cordelia Gallo, the same woman in the photo inside Victorique¡¯s gold coin pendant.


    A photo of a grown-up Cordelia and her baby.


    ¡°Why is this here?¡± Victorique murmured. ¡°Kujou, this is strange. Cordelia Gallo was banished from the village when she was fifteen years old. Twenty years had passed, and she had not returned since. But she¡¯s already an adult in this photo, and if the baby is me, then this was probably taken a little over ten years ago.¡± She frowned. ¡°What do these fragments mean? Where does this chaos lead?¡±


    ¡°What now?¡±


    ¡°Someone came here. Years after Cordelia was banished. That someone took what was left in the hole. And as a secret message, he left a picture of an adult Cordelia. Who was it? What was their relationship with Cordelia? What did they take?¡± Victorique shook her head. ¡°So many questions. But I have found a fragment.¡±


    They exited Cordelia¡¯s house and quietly closed the door.


    Victorique was lost in thought, and gradually stopped explaining things to Kazuya. She just stood at the door, pensive.


    Kazuya brushed the dust off from Victorique¡¯s hair and clothes and wiped the dirt from her cheeks and palms with a handkerchief. Victorique hastened her pace, giving no time for him to clean himself up.


    ¡°We¡¯re both covered in dust,¡± Kazuya grumbled as he caught up with her. ¡°I didn¡¯t even bring a change of clothes, because you wouldn¡¯t tell me where we were going. Hey, are you listening?¡±


    Victorique only snorted in response. With quicker steps, she headed straight for the cemetery behind the cathedral.


    ¡°Where are you going?¡±


    ¡°Taking a look at the victim¡¯s grave.¡±


    Kazuya frowned, but followed hesitantly.


    As soon as they entered the hazy cemetery, it suddenly felt colder. A number of old gravestones, covered in dark green vines, stood in a row. The fog made for poor visibility. Kazuya followed Victorique as she walked ahead of him, keeping his eyes on the fringe peeking out from the bottom of her bulging skirt and the long velvet ribbon hanging from her hat.


    Argh, darn it. I can¡¯t leave her alone somewhere spooky. What if she falls into a hole or something? I gotta man up.


    Eventually, Victorique stopped. Gravel crunched under her laced, leather shoes.


    Kazuya studied the mossy stone cross buried in the soft soil in front of him. Victorique was staring at it with pursed lips.


    He read the name carved on the headstone. ¡°The¡­ o¡­ dore¡­¡±


    It was the name of the village chief who was killed twenty years ago. The epitaph, inscribed in dated phrases, described him as a bright man from his youth and a respectable village chief. It also mentioned his untimely death. Kazuya struggled with the grammar before he could read the whole text.


    Victorique gasped.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Kazuya asked.


    ¡°Look here.¡± Victorique¡¯s finger quivered.


    At the bottom of the cross, Kazuya saw something just barely hidden by the soil. It looked like small handwritten letters, carved using a sharp stone or something. Only one letter peeked out. Victorique extended her small hand to dig into the earth. She looked like a small critter digging a hole to bury nuts. Kazuya quickly stopped her, and proceeded to dig himself, smearing the inside of his nails black.


    Characters began to appear. But the soil made it difficult to see clearly.


    Kazuya wiped the cross with a handkerchief. As the cloth turned blacker, the letters became clearer. From the past to the present, as though revived by some mystical force.


    Tears welled up in Victorique¡¯s eyes as she stared at the words.


    I am innocent C


    The writing was shaky.


    Victorique regarded the letters for a while. Then she rose to her feet.


    She stamped her small foot on the ground, as if venting her anger. Her laced, leather-clad foot dug into the gravel. Birds took off beyond the mist, startled either by the sound or her rage. There was an incessant flapping of wings that eventually faded away.


    A lone white feather slowly drifted from above the thick, milky mist. It fell onto the gravel and quivered.


    The wind blew, and the fog shifted.


    There was a faint sound of laughter coming from somewhere. Strange voices, high-pitched and chilling, like murmurs from the afterlife.


    Kazuya moved closer to Victorique.


    She was standing still as though she had not heard anything. ¡°This was written by Cordelia,¡± she mumbled.


    ¡°Victorique. Let¡¯s head back.¡±


    ¡°My mother was banished for a crime she did not commit.¡±


    ¡°Victorique¡­¡±


    ¡°Then who¡¯s the real culprit?¡±


    Victorique lifted her head and stared at Kazuya¡¯s face. Her emerald eyes looked glassy as it reflected the shifting fog.


    ¡°I think the culprit is still in this village.¡±


    A faint laugh sounded again.


    Victorique¡¯s eyes reflected the view behind Kazuya. A wind gusted, clearing the thick, milky mist. He thought he saw a large blackish shape behind him. He swallowed and whirled around, shielding Victorique.


    This time he heard it clearly.


    It was growl roar of a beast.


    Grrr¡­


    A faint, guttural voice.


    The growl grew louder.


    Kazuya¡¯s nose caught a familiar scent. When he realized what it was, his heart tightened.


    The zoo. The same smell that filled the zoo that he had visited with his family once. The smell of beasts.


    ¡°Victorique, there¡¯s something out there!¡±


    Kazuya squeezed Victorique¡¯s hand. The fog was getting thicker and thicker, weighing down on them like heavy fabric. As if to flip the cloth over, Kazuya held his hand above him, and broke into a run.


    ¡°Kujou?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s something there! Run!¡±


    Victorique turned around. Her hat almost flew away, and she reached for it. Kazuya grabbed it first and started running again.


    He could feel the beast¡¯s breathing, anguished snarls, and smelly breath hounding them. When they reached the cobblestone path, he could hear not only their own footsteps, but also the clattering of what sounded like hooves. Four legs drummed on the cobblestones.


    Kazuya and Victorique made it to the manor. A strong wind blew Victorique¡¯s long, golden hair, which resembled a velvet sash.


    The fog gradually lifted. They opened the front door.


    Kazuya pushed Victorique inside, then rushed after her, closing the door behind him.


    Ceaseless growls came from outside. Snarls and ragged breathing. A loud noise like someone trying to pry the door open.


    Kazuya stayed still as he held Victorique. She was breathing softly, her eyes wide, her body curled up.


    Several minutes passed.


    The sound, the presence, disappeared.


    Shielding Victorique, Kazuya gently opened the door.


    The fog had completely lifted, and there was nothing there. The rain, too, had completely stopped; a warm sun shone above.


    ¡°Thank goodness it was nothing,¡± Kazuya said, a smile appearing on his face. As his gaze lowered, he swallowed.


    The bottom of the front door bore claw marks.

 Volume 2 - CH 3.5

    As they climbed the stairs and made their way to their respective rooms, Kazuya heard loud voices coming from the end of the hallway.


    He came to the door and knocked.


    I believe this is Alan¡¯s room.


    There was an answer, so he peered in and found Alan, Derek, Raoul, and a woman he didn¡¯t recognize inside.


    The four of them were dealing cards, playing poker. Derek seemed to be an easy target for the woman and kept losing to her. Alan and Raoul were watching their friend with a grin as he whined about his losses. When Alan gave him a tip for fun, Raoul smirked, curling up his big body. They didn¡¯t care what happened to Derek¡¯s wallet, it seemed.


    ¡°Where have you been?¡± the stranger asked.


    Kazuya stared at her, bewildered. She was a young woman with fiery red hair kept in dolly curls, big and puffy like cotton candy. Her eyes, however, were a familiar, lonely bluish-gray.


    Through the square-cut bosom of her simple white summer dress peeked a magnificent chest, so large and round that it could have been mistaken for a pair of buttocks. The same reddish freckles on her cheeks dotted her cleavage, forming a lovely floral pattern.


    When the woman saw Kazuya¡¯s frown, she said, ¡°Come on, now. It¡¯s me!¡± She grabbed a nearby sheet and wrapped it around her head.


    ¡°Wait, Mildred?!¡±


    The face and bluish-gray eyes definitely belonged to the nun. But her vibe had completely changed, as if she were a different person. Changing from a stuffy habit to regular clothes highlighted her jovial and cheerful nature. Mildred threw her head back and guffawed.


    Flailing her arms, she said, ¡°I can¡¯t believe you couldn¡¯t recognize me just because my hairstyle changed. What a silly boy.¡±


    The three young men laughed. Kazuya blushed.


    Kazuya and Victorique also settled into the room. The six guests shared what they had been up to since their arrival. The young men had stayed in their rooms playing poker all night because of the bad weather and the creepy villagers. Mildred joined them halfway, and they were just getting into the swing of things.


    ¡°We were chased by a wolf,¡± Kazuya said.


    When he told them about their escape from the cemetery, Mildred¡¯s face contorted in fear, but the three young men were rejoicing.


    ¡°Fascinating!¡± Alan exclaimed, tugging at his beard.


    Derek started laughing, while Raoul grinned silently.


    ¡°It¡¯s not fascinating,¡± Kazuya snapped.


    ¡°The village chief was fussing about wolves.¡±


    ¡°He did¡­¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s be careful too, yeah?¡± Alan said.


    Derek laughed again. Only Raoul curled up in fear. The old chair he was sitting in creaked.


    Alan looked at Mildred. ¡°By the way, Sister. What happened to the phone?¡±


    Mildred shook her head.


    ¡°What¡¯s this about a phone?¡± Kazuya asked.


    ¡°She told the village chief she wanted to make a phone call. He said there was electricity, so she thought maybe there was a phone.¡±


    ¡°Speaking of which, you also used the phone at the inn last night,¡± Kazuya said.


    Mildred cleared her throat, ending the conversation.


    Victorique, who had been silent, suddenly asked, ¡°So there really is electricity here.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right!¡± Kazuya said, finally realizing it. ¡°They live deep in the mountains with no interaction with the outside world, so why do they have electricity?¡±


    Alan grinned. ¡°Yes. Surprisingly, the lamps in this manor are not powered by oil or gas. They run on electricity. True, we¡¯re deep in the mountains, but the lack of human settlement makes construction of facilities easier. It would cost a lot, though! I hear the tourist destinations in the Swiss mountains are getting more advanced.¡±


    ¡°But this place is¡ª¡±


    ¡°No. It¡¯s not a tourist destination.¡± Alan nodded, then looked at Victorique. ¡°You sounded like you knew.¡±


    ¡°To a certain extent, yes.¡± Victorique gave a nod.


    All of them stared at her. The room suddenly turned quiet. Only Victorique remained calm and collected.


    Her small lips parted. ¡°Sergius said that they lived almost self-sufficiently. Do you really think that¡¯s possible? What about iron? Can they make tea and wine on their own? Impossible. Sergius also mentioned that Theodore stashed away gold coins, and that he himself had given Cordelia one when he banished her. That means they have the same currency as the outside world, and they¡¯re aware of its value.¡±


    ¡°Ah¡­¡±


    Kazuya and Alan nodded at the same time.


    ¡°They probably have some contact with the outside world,¡± Victorique continued. ¡°Even if most of the villagers never step out of this place, the village chief at least has some knowledge and information. That¡¯s how they were able to put up the ad in the newspaper. Besides, the driver of the carriage we rode in was afraid of the village, but he seemed to be familiar with the path up the mountain. I¡¯m sure he¡¯s been delivering their supplies all this time¡ªtheir tea, wine, newspapers, magazines.¡± Abruptly, she stopped.


    Silence descended in the room.


    Mildred, who had been busy flipping through cards and pondering, raised her head. ¡°I thought it was strange, so I asked that weird maid. She said they have a sponsor of some sorts.¡±


    ¡°A sponsor?¡± Kazuya said.


    ¡°Yup. What was their name again? Right, a guy named Brian. Brian Roscoe. Apparently, he¡¯s a descendant of a villager who left the village. They don¡¯t know much about him except that he¡¯s a rich young man. He found out about the village about ten years ago and gave them funds. Quite the madman, huh? Imagine going through all the trouble of installing electricity for a village located deep in the mountains.¡±


    ¡°¡­I see.¡± Victorique nodded. When she noticed Kazuya¡¯s inquisitive look, she added, ¡°I¡¯ve always wondered why they put up an ad calling for their descendants. Perhaps they wanted to find other sponsors like Brian Roscoe.¡±


    ¡°Makes sense¡­¡±


    ¡°That is why when I introduced myself, Sergius was fixated on my noble blood. He then silenced the villagers who objected because I was Cordelia¡¯s daughter, and invited us to the manor.¡±


    ¡°Wait, you¡¯re nobility? Are you rich?¡± Mildred asked with a bright face.


    Victorique¡¯s eyes narrowed significantly. ¡°I don¡¯t have anything to my name.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Mildred tossed her losing cards onto the table.


    Victorique looked at Kazuya like she wanted to say something, so he brought his face closer to hers.


    ¡°Ten years ago, a descendant, Brian Roscoe, came to the village,¡± she whispered so only he could hear. ¡°He came for some purpose.¡±


    ¡°To install electricity, right?¡±


    ¡°Someone entered Cordelia¡¯s house, took something, and left a picture of an adult Cordelia. It was someone who visited the village within the last twenty years. In which case, it could only be the man named Brian Roscoe. But who is he? Where did he meet Cordelia, and why? What¡¯s his purpose? What did he take from under that floorboard?¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­¡±


    ¡°Ten years ago was when the Great War started. It was a bit too hectic a time to install electricity deep in the mountains.¡±


    Victorique closed her mouth tight. She seemed reluctant to say any more. Kazuya couldn¡¯t tell what went on behind her dark eyes.


    Playtime was coming to an end.


    Raoul stood up and eyed everyone. ¡°W-Want to listen to some radio?¡±


    ¡°¡­Radio?¡± Kazuya said.


    ¡°I brought one,¡± Derek said proudly. ¡°I heard there was electricity, so I hooked it up. Since we¡¯re deep in the mountains, it might not pick things up clearly, though.¡±


    ¡°Did you have a radio in your luggage?¡± Kazuya asked.


    Derek approached the square radio on top of a chest. There was an old statue of Mary and a decorative compass beside it. Derek fiddled with the radio intently.


    As he turned the dial, the radio emitted a grating noise. The sound of a trumpet mingled with it. Carefully, Derek turned the knob in search of the sound. Eventually, the noise vanished.


    Cheerful music began to play. It was choppy, but still discernible. Derek turned up the volume. A high trumpet sounded. He looked up with a smile.


    ¡°How¡¯s that?¡± Derek said.


    Kazuya also smiled. The lively music dispelled the village¡¯s eerie atmosphere, lifting his mood. Alan whistled. The shy Raoul started shaking his shoulders.


    Mildred stood up and whistled, imitating Alan.


    ¡°Now that¡¯s what I¡¯m talking about,¡± she said. ¡°This should drive away the gloom. Come on, dance!¡±


    ¡°Are you really a nun?¡± Derek muttered.


    Mildred pulled Raoul¡¯s arm, and they began dancing together. The music gradually became louder.


    Mildred footsteps were loud as she danced. She seemed jovial. When she twirled around, her red hair billowed.


    Kazuya was staring at them blankly. He started feeling uncomfortable.


    It felt like the walls were receding, growing larger, and the entire room was shaking.


    There was a jarring sound.


    The higher volume meant the noise was loud as well. Puzzled, Derek fiddled with the radio. It started producing a rattling sound, and stopped.


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    The room fell silent, and everyone looked at each other.


    Derek messed around with the radio. But it wouldn¡¯t play any more.


    ¡°Is it broken?¡± Alan asked.


    Derek¡¯s shoulders quivered. ¡°No way. It¡¯s the latest type.¡± Frustrated, he flipped the radio over and twiddled it.


    The sun was setting outside, and the room was suddenly dim.


    Everyone glanced at each other in silence. Mildred plopped down on a seat.


    Victorique yawned and stretched. She then stood up and walked out of the room.


    Kazuya quickly rose to his feet. ¡°Are you going back to your room?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I have to unpack my luggage.¡±


    ¡°Okay. I¡¯m heading back to my room as well.¡±


    ¡°No. You will be in my room unpacking my stuff.¡±


    ¡°What? Really?¡±


    ¡°Yes, really.¡±


    They exited the room, closing the door behind them.


    Mildred stared at the door, fear clouding her bluish-gray eyes.

 Volume 2 - CH 3.6

    Back in Victorique¡¯s room, the two busied themselves.


    Kazuya was on the floor, taking Victorique¡¯s belongings out of her mini-suitcase and organizing them. He tucked away her clothes in a drawer of plain wood, and set the small, assorted items on the mantelpiece. As he passed by the mirror on the wall, Kazuya met Victorique¡¯s eyes through the reflection.


    Victorique was sitting in a large rocking chair by the window, smoking her pipe. Made for adults, the chair was, of course, too big for her, and most of her body had sunk into the gobelin cushion. She had been staring out the open window. Outside, the mist hid and revealed the stone balcony and oak tree.


    Now her gaze was back in the room, staring at Kazuya through the mirror.


    ¡°¡­What?¡± Kazuya said.


    ¡°You¡¯re such a neat freak.¡±


    ¡°Now that¡¯s just rude. This is normal.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    Victorique picked up the rocking chair cushion and threw it on the floor. Kazuya immediately rushed over, picked up the cushion, dusted it off, and brought it to Victorique.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said.


    ¡°Why¡¯d you do that?¡±


    ¡°To prove that you¡¯re a neat freak. I¡¯m satisfied with the results. If you¡¯re done tidying up, go back to your room.¡±


    ¡°Okay¡­ Wait a minute. Why was I organizing your stuff?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d be happy to unravel that mystery to you, but it¡¯s too much trouble. Off you go.¡±


    Kazuya clicked his tongue, hanging his head.


    Victorique pulled her eyes away from Kazuya, and, pipe in hand, watched the thick mist out the window with melancholic eyes. She turned her head to Kazuya. Before he could exit the room, she called, ¡°Kujou.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think any of the villagers noticed Cordelia¡¯s message inscribed on Theodore¡¯s tombstone.¡±


    ¡°Probably not. Otherwise, they would¡¯ve erased it.¡±


    ¡°After twenty years, I¡¯m the one who found it.¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡±


    Victorique bit her lip and went silent.


    Kazuya stood there, bewildered by her fierce will, so fierce, in fact, as to be stubborn. He could feel her determination not to leave without a fight.


    He recalled her half-brother, Inspector Grevil de Blois. He would visit his intelligent, petite but beautiful sister in St. Marguerite Academy¡¯s conservatory but would never make eye contact with her.


    One of the horror stories prevalent in the academy said that Victorique de Blois was a Gray Wolf. Avril Bradley spoke about her in a voice that was a mix of fear and wonder.


    Even now that they had come to know each other, Kazuya¡¯s little beautiful friend was still a mystery to him.


    Something small and hard hit Kazuya on the back of his head.


    Holding his head, he turned around to see his little beautiful friend, Victorique de Blois, trying to throw something from her rocking chair. He looked down at the floor and saw many round macaroons in golden wrappers scattered about. It was apparent that she had been throwing them for a while now.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Kazuya asked. ¡°You¡¯re making a mess again!¡±


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t quite hit you.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s going to pick them up?¡±


    ¡°You, of course.¡±


    ¡°Why me?!¡±


    Kazuya picked up all the scattered macaroons and brought them to Victorique.


    His mind was a mess¡ªhe felt concern for this strange girl, annoyance for being pushed around, and there was an unfamiliar feeling that he couldn¡¯t quite understand. He tried to put these mixed emotions into words.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like this place, Victorique. Let¡¯s get out of here and return to the academy.¡±


    There was no reply.


    ¡°I¡¯m worried about you. We¡¯re in a strange village, and there are wolves out there.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    Kazuya picked up a jug and poured water into a red glass. ¡°All this worrying¡¯s made me super thirsty.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear that.¡±


    ¡°Whose fault do you think that is?! For the record, you¡¯re the one making me worried.¡±


    Victorique played ignorant.


    Furious, Kazuya looked down at his hand. He was pouring water, but he heard something plop. He peered into the glass and almost screamed. Victorique shot him a dubious look.


    In the glass was a small amount of water and something round with a black portion in the center.


    An eye.


    The room suddenly felt chilly.


    It was a little smaller than a human eye, presumably belonging to an animal.


    The eyeball moved with the water, the pupil turning in his direction. Kazuya¡¯s own eyes locked with it. He almost shrieked, then noticed Victorique¡¯s gaze, and somehow managed to keep his composure and put down the glass.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Uh, nothing. Just a bug. I¡¯ll ask Harminia later to change the water.¡±


    Kazuya put the jug back on the table. His heart was drumming in his chest.


    The sun was slowly setting, and a quiet darkness that signaled the end of the day blanketed the nameless village. Through the curtained window of Victorique¡¯s room, one could see the setting sun blazing as it sank behind a large oak tree, and then faded into the darkness. Once the sun had dipped below the horizon, the village turned jet-black, and only a veil of milky mist creeped in the darkness, shifting in the faint breeze, just as it had during daytime.


    The oaks¡¯ tangled branches were black skeletons clawing at the sky.


    ¡°I¡¯m closing the curtains,¡± Kazuya said, pulling the string hanging from the top of the window. The heavy, velvet curtains billowed then closed shut.


    Victorique, sitting deep in her rocking chair, had been silent for a while now, lost in thought. She had been quiet ever since she returned to her room after a simple dinner with Sergius and the other guests. Whether she heard Kazuya or not, she gave no response when he called out to her. With a sigh, Kazuya returned to his original spot¡ªher mini-suitcase, which he had used as a chair¡ªand sat down.


    A knock came at the door, but before he could answer, it slowly opened. Kazuya half-rose to his feet. With a faint rustling of clothes, someone entered the room.


    It was Harminia. She was holding a large brass container full of hot water in both hands.


    ¡°It¡¯s for the bath,¡± she said in a low voice. ¡°I¡¯ll mix it with the water.¡±


    She opened the flimsy door to the bathroom, set the bucket down, and quickly tried to leave.


    Kazuya frowned. Harminia¡¯s footsteps made no sound at all, almost as if no one was there.


    He found it to be in sharp contrast to the red-haired nun, Mildred. Whenever Mildred walked, she produced loud footsteps that even large men could not make. Harminia¡¯s footsteps, on the other hand, like her presence, were faint and unidentifiable.


    As she exited the room, Harminia suddenly turned around. Her eyes darted from Kazuya to Victorique.


    Slowly, her small, colorless lips parted. ¡°If you need anything, please ring the bell.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    The door closed.


    Suddenly in a good mood, Victorique jumped down from the rocking chair and headed for the bathroom, hopping around as if dancing on the floor. Kazuya watched her curiously as she filled the bathtub¡ªcream-colored with brass cabriole legs¡ªwith hot and regular water. She knelt down on the black-and-white checkered tile floor and peered cheerfully into the bathtub, which was filled to the brim. She looked like she would start humming a tune at any moment.


    ¡°What¡¯s up with you?¡± Kazuya asked.


    Victorique raised her head. ¡°I like baths,¡± she said in a matter-of-fact tone.


    ¡°Really? Hmm. I see. I guess it¡¯s true. Traveling does reveal people¡¯s surprising sides. You like beautiful things and baths.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°And books and candy, right? Frills and lace. Why are you giving me that dangerous look?¡±


    ¡°Can you not talk like you know me?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s uncalled for!¡±


    Victorique ignored him and took out some bathroom items¡ªa sparkling ivory comb, a rose-scented soap, and a gold-rimmed makeup mirror¡ªfrom her luggage. She turned around and looked at Kazuya.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°A lady is taking a bath. Go away.¡±


    ¡°Oh. S-Sorry!¡±


    Kazuya stood up. He dashed to the door and looked over his shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ll be in the hallway. If anything weird happens, just call me.¡±


    No replay came.


    Kazuya went out into the hallway, closed the door, and sighed.


    Alone in the hallway, he felt a sudden surge of uneasiness. A mysterious village deep in the mountains and its equally mysterious villagers. He didn¡¯t really know much about the four people they came with. The radio that had suddenly stopped, the eyeball submerged in the water¡­


    The more uneasy he became, the more he felt the hallway shifting and the walls and ceiling closing in on him from all sides. Kazuya shook his head wildly, trying not to let the nerves get the better of him.


    Victorique will say she¡¯s never going back. I gotta make sure there¡¯s no danger lurking about.


    He heard the faint sound of water from inside the room. Splash. Splash. Splash. It sounded more like a small cat getting into the water than a human being.


    Next came Victorique¡¯s distant voice.


    ¡°Whoa~, whoa~, whoa~¡­¡±


    ¡°Victorique!¡± Kazuya barged into the room. He listened carefully.


    ¡°I love baths~!¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°It warms me up inside~!¡±


    Is she singing?


    Kazuya felt ashamed for panicking. He leaned against the door. ¡°What are you doing?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Singing.¡±


    ¡°Man, you suck!¡±


    A wave of fury traveled through the air and reached Kazuya. After a momentary silence, he turned to leave, when Victorique said in a low, rumbling voice, ¡°You think I suck? Let¡¯s hear you sing, then.¡±


    ¡°What? N-No way. It¡¯s too embarrassing.¡±


    ¡°I said sing, Kujou.¡±


    Unable to refuse, Kazuya regretted making fun of Victorique. He placed his hands on his hips and began singing a children¡¯s song that he used to sing back in his hometown.


    When Kazuya sang the song in his childish voice, his mother and older sister would clap their hands and comment, ¡°You¡¯re such a good singer,¡± or ¡°Your father and brothers can¡¯t sing, but you can.¡± After his father and older brothers caught him singing, he got chided for not being manly enough, and so Kazuya became a man who never hummed even when he was alone. He had not sung for a while, so he got a little excited.


    As he was singing his heart out, a loud bang came at the bathroom door.


    ¡°Silence!¡±


    ¡°Y-You¡¯re the one who told me to sing!¡± Teary-eyed, Kazuya stopped singing. ¡°Well? I¡¯m good, aren¡¯t I?¡± he murmured.


    There was no reply.


    Dejected, Kazuya went silent.


    The room was quiet once more, save for the faint sound of water, Kazuya¡¯s heartbeat, and the rustling of the velvet curtains.


    From time to time, white mist wandered into the room from outside before dissipating.


    It was quiet. Wolves howled in the distance. Birds flapped their wings.

 Volume 2 - CH 3.7

    Kazuya¡¯s eyes caught a flicker of motion. He lifted his head. He was sure he saw something move. He surveyed the room, but nothing had changed.


    That can¡¯t be right. I definitely saw movement.


    A canopied bed. Mini-suitcase. A rocking chair, and a fragile turntable. Wardrobe. Velvet curtains. A mirror fixed onto the wall.


    A mirror? Kazuya stared at it.


    Something was moving in the mirror. The bed¡ªthe feather comforter on top of it. It had been flat and empty until now, but for some reason it was slightly fluffed up.


    Kazuya turned around. The bed was as flat as before.


    He looked into the mirror. The comforter in the reflection was slowly swelling up.


    The lights in the room flickered and dimmed. In the mirror, the comforter was growing bigger, to the point that it seemed like there was a person inside.


    Kazuya let out a shriek. He was about to make a run for the door when he realized that Victorique was still inside. He scurried to the bathroom and pounded the door.


    ¡°Victorique! Are you okay in there?!¡±


    No answer.


    Kazuya recalled the malfunctioning radio and the eyeball in the jug.


    Something¡¯s wrong. Something¡¯s seriously wrong. Victorique!


    The lights went out, and darkness enveloped the room.


    Kazuya stuck to the bathroom door to protect Victorique. He called her name repeatedly, but there was no answer.


    Suddenly, the lights came back on. The bed in the reflection had returned to normal.


    It was not until about ten minutes later that Victorique emerged from the bathroom.


    ¡°Can¡¯t you be quiet?¡± she said. ¡°What on earth was that racket?¡±


    She was wearing a white satin round cap and a puffy nightgown with white frills and aqua-blue lace. Half of her long blonde hair was hidden in the cap, the other half spilling down her back.


    Kazuya was slumped down on the rocking chair.


    ¡°That¡¯s my chair,¡± Victorique huffed.


    Kazuya stood up and told her about the strange phenomena that had just occurred. Victorique yawned, seemingly disinterested. She carefully put her toiletries away and looked for her bag of macaroons.


    ¡°Let¡¯s leave in the morning,¡± Kazuya said.


    Victorique looked at him in surprise. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because it¡¯s dangerous. Weird things just keep happening. Something¡¯s wrong with this village. Didn¡¯t you find it creepy how the radio just stopped working?¡±


    ¡°Radio?¡± Victorique groaned. ¡°What a pain,¡± she mumbled.


    ¡°Wh-What did you say?¡±


    ¡°It was a trick.¡±


    ¡°No way!¡±


    Victorique yawned loudly, and reluctantly added, ¡°Do you remember what else was on the chest where the radio was placed?¡±


    ¡°On the chest? Uh, there was the radio, a statue of Mary, and a decorative compass¡­¡±


    ¡°The compass has a magnet,¡± she said with a yawn. ¡°When there¡¯s a magnet nearby, devices that use electricity go haywire. I don¡¯t know if it was just a coincidence or if someone put it there on purpose.¡±


    ¡°Wait¡­¡± Kazuya frowned. ¡°Did you know all along?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°Then why didn¡¯t you say anything?! We were all scared.¡±


    ¡°I was preoccupied with other things.¡±


    ¡°Why, you¡­¡±


    Victorique was sitting in the rocking chair, staring at Kazuya. She then stood up, and said, ¡°You are one selfish man, Kujou.¡±


    ¡°Right back at you!¡±


    ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll explain it so even a selfish simpleton like you can understand.¡±


    ¡°Sue me.¡±


    ¡°In exchange, you will stop whining about going home. I am not leaving.¡±


    ¡°O-Okay.¡±


    Victorique walked out into the hallway, and Kazuya tried to follow her.


    ¡°You stay there,¡± she said.


    ¡°¡­Got it.¡±


    ¡°Keep your eyes closed and reflect on what you did. Don¡¯t open them until I say so.¡±


    ¡°Reflect on what?!¡±


    Kazuya reluctantly closed his eyes. He sensed Victorique leaving and the door closing behind her.


    Silence.


    He heard something rattling and shaking from somewhere very close. Kazuya was desperately holding back the urge to open his eyes.


    After a while, he heard Victorique¡¯s voice from very close by, when she was supposed to have left the room.


    ¡°You can open your eyes now.¡±


    Kazuya opened his eyes. The mirror on the wall in front of him showed the top of Victorique¡¯s head. A white satin cap and a bit of sparkling golden hair peeked out. He could also hear her voice.


    ¡°Do you understand now, you simpleton?¡±


    ¡°You completely lost me. Where are you?¡±


    He peered into the mirror and found that it had been removed, leaving a gaping hole. The next room¡ªKazuya¡¯s room¡ªwas symmetrical to Victorique¡¯s. She was stretching her body up to show her face through the square hole.


    Acknowledging that her face couldn¡¯t reach no matter how hard she tried, Victorique scuttled somewhere and came back with a small box to use as a footstool. It looked light, but she was carrying it with clenched teeth, as though it was heavy.


    When she finally got on the box, Victorique was as tall as Kazuya. She poked her head out of the hole.


    ¡°See?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    When Kazuya still had no clue what she was getting at, Victorique stamped her foot.


    ¡°To put it into words, someone entered this room and removed the mirror. What you saw was not a reflection. It was someone hiding inside the bed in this room to scare you.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    Kazuya¡¯s gaze was fixed on Victorique. This was a rare occasion. Because she was on a footstool, they were about the same height. They were staring into each other¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°Do you get it?¡± Victorique asked, eyes wide open.


    Kazuya¡¯s face clouded over.


    ¡°Wh-What¡¯s wrong?¡± she asked.


    ¡°That means someone did it.¡±


    ¡°Yes. But it¡¯s okay.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not okay!¡±


    Victorique¡¯s eyes widened even more. Kazuya kicked the floor to vent his emotions.


    ¡°A ghost is fine. It just means this house is haunted. But a human being? Besides, this is your room, not mine. Someone did this on purpose to scare you. Am I wrong?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Victorique¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Who would do this and why?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. All I know is that it must be one of the villagers. But I can guess why. It¡¯s because I am Cordelia¡¯s daughter.¡± Victorique¡¯s voice was low.


    Her small face was expressionless, her eyes dark. Kazuya regarded her visage.


    ¡°Was it someone who believed that Cordelia was a criminal?¡± she said in a trembling voice. ¡°Or was it the real culprit, afraid that I¡¯d learn the truth?¡±


    ¡°Victorique¡­¡±


    The villagers¡¯ glassy green eyes flashed through Kazuya¡¯s mind. Raising their weapons to drive them away. Sergius showing up and allowing them to enter the village. Harminia¡¯s exposed eyeballs when she saw Victorique, blabbering about Cordelia¡¯s crimes. And Ambrose, who spoke amiably but suddenly turned cold depending on the topic.


    It felt like Sergius was behind it all. He was trying to protect the village, while Victorique was trying to discover the truth.


    ¡°But I am not leaving,¡± Victorique insisted.


    ¡°It¡¯s dangerous!¡±


    They both stamped their feet, glaring at each other.


    ¡°But you¡­¡± Victorique paused, wondering if she should say the words. Then with a serious look, she added, ¡°You said you¡¯d protect me. You followed me here without a single piece of luggage.¡±


    ¡°Of course I will!¡±


    They held each other¡¯s gaze.


    The usual friendly atmosphere between them was gone. They were staring down at each other with fierce looks, as if they would engage in a duel at any moment.


    Suddenly, the door to Victorique¡¯s room flung open.


    Standing there was Mildred, her red curly hair bouncing. She looked furious.


    ¡°Listen to this!¡± she huffed, stamping into the room.


    Kazuya recalled how Harminia¡¯s footsteps barely made any sound. They¡¯re polar opposites, he thought. When she noticed Victorique peeking out of the square hole, she chuckled and poked the girl¡¯s nose. Victorique gave a jerk like a kitten frightened by an adult, and blinked repeatedly.


    ¡°What are you doing, little one?¡±


    Victorique reddened.


    Is she self-conscious about her height? Kazuya wondered.


    Without a hint of guilt on her face, Mildred started talking. ¡°Those men are a bunch of idiots!¡± she said, tramping around the room. ¡°Alan, Derek, and Raoul. I hung around with them because I thought Derek was loaded.¡±


    ¡°R-Really? Only because he¡¯s rich?¡±


    ¡°I love money!¡± she snapped, for some odd reason. ¡°I love money more than good wine and pretty dresses. I love it more than anything else!¡±


    Kazuya and Victorique exchanged glances.


    Kazuya recalled the Dresden plate that she presumably stole at the bazaar.


    Until now, Mildred was crude and ill-mannered, but once the subject of money came up, her vibe changed drastically. There was a strong, sweet scent coming from her, as if she had put on perfume, and her entire body was oozing sex appeal.


    What is wrong with her?


    Kazuya stared at Mildred, who kept repeating the word ¡°money¡± over and over.


    ¡°You buy wines and dresses with money, though,¡± Victorique interjected.


    Mildred pretended not to hear. ¡°So anyway, they wanted to go check the place out. It¡¯s the eve of the Midsummer Festival and the villagers are on edge, but they went to visit the cathedral. No one¡¯s supposed to be there at this time of the year. Rules and what not. I went with them anyway. Do you know what they did? They took a precious ornamental vase and dropped it into a basin full of holy water.¡± She picked up the red glass sitting next to the pitcher and gulped it down without looking inside. ¡°They begged to see it, but when they did, they laughed at how the villagers were cherishing junk. The villagers got mad, and they dropped it! And it happened three times, once for each of them. I was surprised the vase didn¡¯t break. The village chief was practically steaming. He said that they only value what¡¯s new and can¡¯t appreciate the real value of things.¡± She coughed. ¡°Th-There was something round in the water.¡±


    Kazuya gasped. The eyeball! He decided not to say anything.


    ¡°It was probably candy or something,¡± he said, and Mildred nodded.


    After Mildred stomped out of the room, it was silent once more.


    Victorique came back down the hallway from the room next door.


    They didn¡¯t talk much. Kazuya thoroughly checked the lock on the door, moved the wardrobe in front of the mirror to prevent anything from coming in from the next room, and closed the windows tight.


    ¡°I¡¯ll stay here right by the door,¡± he said. ¡°If anyone comes in, I¡¯ll take care of them.¡±


    ¡°How brave of you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m being serious! For the record, you¡¯re the one being targeted.¡±


    Kazuya placed the rocking chair in front of the door, slumped down, and closed his eyes.


    He couldn¡¯t sleep. Being the most sensitive one in the family, Kazuya had a hard time falling asleep if the pillows were changed. All the more so if he tried sleeping on a chair.


    When Victorique heard him mumbling, she turned around, looking pleased. ¡°Do you remember the nice cot I had in my luggage?¡±


    ¡°By luggage, do you mean the stupidly large, family-sized suitcase you use for moving overseas? Then yes, I remember.¡±


    ¡°Y-You¡¯re the one who¡¯s stupid. My sagacious brain deemed that to be the minimum necessary baggage. Since you left it after your arrogant lecturing, you take responsibility and sleep in a rocking chair.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure the vase and tea set were unnecessary,¡± he rebutted.


    A macaroon flew through the air and onto the floor. Kazuya picked it up and put it back where it belonged.


    ¡°Victorique?¡±


    When he looked up, Victorique was absorbed in her thought. She wasn¡¯t looking at Kazuya anymore. He sighed and sat down on the rocking chair.


    As the night deepened, the manor fell silent.


    Kazuya dimmed the lamp a little and decided to sleep.


    Victorique had long since laid down on the large canopied bed, breathing softly. Kazuya closed his eyes, forcing himself to sleep.


    He glanced at Victorique. He could see her small head. She was lying face down, her little face buried in the huge, soft pillow.


    ¡°What a weird way to sleep.¡±


    Her faint breathing echoed endlessly. She looked more like a furry puppy slipping into bed than a human being.


    A grandfather clock started chiming downstairs.


    Dong. Dong. Dong.


    Kazuya started counting. One. Two. When he reached twelve, the ringing stopped. Realizing that it was already twelve o¡¯clock in the evening, he decided he had to sleep now.


    With fear in his heart, Kazuya slowly closed his eyes.

 Volume 2 - CH 4.1

    ¡ªMonologue 3¡ª


    In the middle of the night, I awoke to a presence.


    The manor was quiet; the only sound was the faint breeze coming from outside the window.


    Quietly, I approached the door and strained my ears.


    ¡°¡­while the festival is going on¡­¡±


    I could hear men¡¯s whispers coming from the end of the hallway.


    ¡°No one will notice. Not even the villagers.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, no doubt.¡±


    They were having a secret discussion.


    ¡°We can transport them by car once we get down the mountain.¡±


    I could feel anger rising within me.


    I suspected this to be the case, and I was right. Unaware of an eavesdropper, the men continued discussing their plans for tomorrow.


    ¡°If we do it during the festival, the villagers won¡¯t notice. The cathedral will be unoccupied for a certain time tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°We head back down the mountain, and then¡­¡±


    And then what?


    Chapter 4: Red Turnip Lanterns and the Winter Man


    Dawn was slowly breaking over the nameless village. Kazuya was slumped in a rocking chair in the corner, awakening from his shallow sleep and falling asleep again. This went on repeatedly.


    Every time he woke up, he saw Victorique sleeping in a different area of the large canopied bed, in a different position. Blearily he wondered when she moved.


    The banging of drums announced the breaking of dawn.


    Boom!


    Boom! Boom! Boom!


    It was followed by the sound of a flute. High and thin, it seemed to slice through the darkness of dawn.


    Kazuya bolted upright. When he got up, Victorique, dressed in her nightgown, was just getting off the bed. She rushed to the window and glanced at Kazuya behind her.


    Kazuya looked drowsy, while Victorique was already fully awake; she had the same quiet but sharp eyes when they met at the conservatory. Most of her long, golden hair cascaded down from the white satin cap, billowing like a golden stream.


    ¡°Good morning, Kujou,¡± she said.


    ¡°Good morning, Victorique. What was that just now?¡±


    ¡°No idea. If I had to guess¡­¡± Victorique pulled on a string hanging from the ceiling.


    The heavy velvet curtains drew open.


    Outside the window was a completely different scenery.


    Unlike yesterday, when a milky mist obscured most of the area save for the stone balcony and a large oak tree, this morning, despite still being dawn, the air was clear, with great visibility. The weather was fine, and the wind was dry. The sound of drums shook the air, followed by the whistling of flutes.


    Several colored banners, all bearing the wolf emblem painted in black, fluttered in the breeze.


    Someone was spraying water¡ªholy water, most likely¡ªinto the morning sky. Droplets fell onto the stones of the balcony.


    Whips cracked and blanks were fired.


    ¡°I would guess¡­¡± Victorique said.


    ¡°The Midsummer Festival has begun,¡± Kazuya added.


    ¡°Indeed.¡±


    They exchanged glances, and ran out onto the balcony. Leaning over the mossy stone railing, they watched the scene outside.


    A shaking, bright-red mass was entering the square. No matter how much they strained their eyes, they could not make out what it was. It was a large float, but it was burning bright-orange like flames.


    Villagers were parading around the square, shouting. It was hard to believe that they were extremely quiet just yesterday.


    As they goggled at the square, a small knock sounded on the door. Kazuya answered and returned to the room.


    He opened the door to find a young man with long golden hair standing there. He was taller than most of the villagers, with strikingly handsome features and clear eyes. Ambrose, the village chief¡¯s assistant.


    ¡°I heard you guys talking when I passed by,¡± he said. ¡°I thought you were awake.¡±


    Ambrose was carrying curious items in his hands. A human-sized paper-mach¨¦ wrapped in ochre-colored cloth, and a wooden mask with a horrifying black face carved into it. Kazuya studied the objects.


    Ambrose laughed. ¡°These are paper-mach¨¦ and mask for the festival. Never seen much of these?¡±


    ¡°Nope.¡±


    ¡°To me, your belongings are much more uncommon.¡±


    Ambrose peeked into the room a little and glanced at their belongings. He then stared at Kazuya¡¯s face and reached out to it. Kazuya backed away quickly. He didn¡¯t like having his cheeks pinched or his hair pulled.


    Woken by the sound of conversation, the doors to the other rooms opened one after another. Alan stepped out drowsily, stroking his beard. Derek was wearing a silk nightwear; one look revealed it as luxurious, but it was wrinkled, as though he¡¯d been tossing and turning in his sleep. Raoul¡¯s large body also came out sluggishly.


    The door to Mildred¡¯s room opened last. With footsteps so loud that it was hard to believe they belonged to a woman, she stepped out into the hallway. Her red, curly hair swayed.


    Victorique left the balcony and trotted toward them.


    Ambrose led Kazuya and the others to the square. ¡°As Elder Sergius said yesterday,¡± he began, ¡°the Midsummer Festival is a celebration of summer¡¯s bountiful harvest and a ritual of defeating and burning winter. We then call the spirits of our ancestors to witness our abundance.¡±


    The manor was practically empty at this point. Almost all the villagers had gathered in the square.


    ¡°We don¡¯t want to leave the cathedral unattended, so a few people are over there. The rest are all in the square.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s way different from yesterday,¡± Kazuya remarked.


    Ambrose laughed. ¡°We were busy with preparations. It looked like the red turnips weren¡¯t going to be ready in time.¡±


    ¡°Red turnips?¡±


    ¡°The lights on the float. Look.¡±


    When the group arrived at the square, their eyes widened in surprise as they stared at the huge, round, flaming floats.


    Countless round and small orange-glowing objects were attached all over the floats. A closer inspection revealed them to be hollowed-out red turnips with various patterns carved on the outside. There were tiny candles inside, their flames dancing as the floats moved. The floats themselves crawled all over the place like flickering flames.


    ¡°So pretty,¡± Victorique breathed.


    Ambrose nodded happily. ¡°The villagers were busy carving these. And I was making this paper-mach¨¦. Had a hard time since I¡¯m all thumbs.¡± He gently placed the ochre-colored mummy on the float.


    ¡°What¡¯s the papier-mache for?¡± Kazuya asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s called the Winter Man. At noon, the villagers dress up in costumes and stage a dramatic battle between the Winter Army and the Summer Army. The Winter Amy wears brown clothes, while the Summer Army wears blue. When the Summer Army eventually wins the battle and defeats the Winter Army, it sets fire to the Winter Man¡¯s float. We then eat, drink, and dance to celebrate Summer¡¯s victory.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­¡±


    ¡°After that, the cathedral will be cleared of people. The cathedral is the gateway to the afterlife and serves as the pathway for our ancestors who return to witness our bountiful harvest. At the end of the festival, our ancestors wear this mask¡­¡± Ambrose lifted a macabre mask, a product of his painstaking labor. ¡°¡­and dance in joy for the harvest. They then speak in an incomprehensible language. We believe it to be the language of the afterlife.¡±


    Harminia was coming from behind them, her eyes bulging. She stared at the mask Ambrose was holding and suddenly grinned from ear to ear. She seemed satisfied with the mask.


    ¡°Looks great,¡± she said in a barely audible whisper.


    Ambrose seemed happy for the praise. ¡°I¡¯ll be wearing the mask this year.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a candidate for the next village chief, after all,¡± Harminia said.


    The group looked puzzled.


    ¡°The village chief has a younger assistant,¡± she added in an even lower voice. ¡°When the village chief dies, his assistant becomes the next chief. Elder Sergius was also Elder Theodore¡¯s assistant. In other words, Elder Sergius has a very high opinion of Ambrose.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­¡±


    The group studied Ambrose. The young man¡¯s elegant face reddened.


    He shook his head in embarrassment. ¡°It¡¯s partly because there¡¯s fewer youth among the villagers. Not a lot of children in the village, in fact.¡±


    The floats slowly started spinning around. They watched several red turnips spin, tracing red lines in the air.


    ¡°This is stupid,¡± Alan spat.


    Ambrose gasped, and Harminia¡¯s eyes bulged.


    It just so happened that the sound of drums and flutes stopped then and a momentary silence fell on the square. All the villagers turned around, their dark eyes sweeping over the outsiders, searching for the owner of the voice.


    Alan had been grumbling nonstop since entering the village, but never before had he attracted so much attention. The man himself was surprised, but his pride prevented himself from backing down.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe people still believe in these ancient superstitions. Secluded place, my ass. Definitely the village of the Gray Wolves. This place is a joke!¡±


    Derek, who usually backed him up, stood silent next to him.


    ¡°Am I right, Raoul?¡± Alan said.


    The big man shrank back, scratching his chin. ¡°U-Um¡­ yeah.¡±


    ¡°Spirits of your ancestors? Good one. They ain¡¯t coming back. All this ridiculous nonsense so early in the morning.¡±


    Derek stopped him before he could say any more. ¡°Yeah, I get it. It¡¯s quite loud out here. Let¡¯s head back to our rooms and play some poker, yeah?¡±


    Alan nodded. The three men plodded back to their rooms.


    ¡°Please wait,¡± Harminia said in a low but carrying voice, stopping them.


    Villagers were gathered behind the maid, glowering at the three men. It seemed as if they had fused with Harminia. Their faces were devoid of expression, and they were motionless, eyes bulging open. Their outdated attire made them look like ghosts.


    Alan turned around and gave a start. His confidence faded. ¡°Wh-What?!¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re going to mock our village, then you may leave.¡±


    ¡°A mere maid talking back to a guest?¡±


    ¡°The spirits of the dead¡­¡±


    ¡°The spirits of the dead, what? Say it.¡±


    ¡°They do return.¡±


    ¡°Bullshit!¡±


    ¡°They come from the night sky, pass through the cathedral and onto the square, and speak in the language of the afterlife. Their words are incomprehensible to us. But nothing can be hidden from the spirits of the dead. There¡¯s meaning to the Midsummer Festival.¡±


    The look on Harminia¡¯s face said she believed in the festival from the bottom of her heart. She turned to Ambrose and shot him a glare, urging him to say something as well. Ambrose did not have the same unwavering look as Harminia, but she didn¡¯t seem to notice.


    Ambrose stopped Alan before he could continue. ¡°Dear guests. You are entitled to your opinion, but if you¡¯re going to interrupt the Midsummer Festival, I will have to ask you to leave.¡±


    ¡°I-I don¡¯t want to leave,¡± Alan murmured.


    For some reason, he was getting flustered. It was apparent that they didn¡¯t want to leave the village. The three men shared looks and discussed things over.


    ¡°You always pick a fight wherever you go,¡± Derek rebuked. Raoul said nothing.


    After a while, Alan raised his hands. ¡°Fine. I get it. We won¡¯t interrupt the festival. We¡¯ll just stay put in our rooms, okay?¡±


    Ambrose smiled and bowed. Harminia kept glaring at them as they left. The young assistant seemed to have lost some of his energy.


    ¡°We actually have a slightly similar tradition in my country,¡± Kazuya said in an attempt to cheer him up.


    ¡°Your country?¡±


    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s an island nation located all the way across the sea. We have this old tradition of welcoming back our ancestors in the summer. I don¡¯t really believe in it, but I do visit their graves with my family and make offerings.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­ tell me more.¡±


    Ambrose hounded Kazuya with questions, so he spent the next several minutes explaining about his country, world geography, and the state of the world. To his surprise, the young man didn¡¯t even know about the Great War, which ended only a few years ago. He knew about airplanes and remembered how they flew so high back then.


    He was living the life of a recluse.


    But while he lived a medieval lifestyle, Ambrose was surprisingly quick on the uptake; he understood many things in just a few minutes of conversation. And like a young man with a thirst for knowledge, he asked the right questions one after another and absorbed Kazuya¡¯s answers. His clear green eyes sparkled with curiosity.


    What a smart guy! Kazuya was genuinely impressed. I can see where the legend of the Gray Wolf comes from. This feels like the traveler¡¯s account that Victorique showed me, where he met a young male wolf in the mountains. Intelligent and silent Gray Wolves¡­


    Ambrose¡¯s questions went on forever, but his thirst for knowledge was never quenched.


    After taking a breather, he said, somewhat embarrassed, ¡°When I was a child, a descendant came to the village. A man named Brian Roscoe. I asked him a lot of questions too, and got an earful from Elder Sergius afterwards.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­ The guy who installed electricity in the village, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes. But he left as soon as he finished making arrangements for the construction,¡± he said sadly.

 Volume 2 - CH 4.2

    After the commotion, the villagers returned to their respective homes. They had a quick breakfast before gathering again in the square a little past noon.


    The lights of the floats were extinguished. The colored banners surrounding the square swayed in the strong breeze. The crack of whips and firing of blanks continued.


    The skit that Ambrose had mentioned was about to begin. Kazuya went to Alan and his friends¡¯ rooms to invite them to watch, but they seemed to be in a bad mood. Although he could sense they were inside, they did not respond. Mildred said that there was an awkward atmosphere between the three, so they stayed in their own rooms without talking to each other.


    Mildred also seemed uninterested. ¡°I can watch from the balcony,¡± she had said.


    In the end, only Kazuya and Victorique headed to the square, holding hands along the way.


    When they arrived, girls in red skirts were just running out onto the square. The girls stopped in the middle and bowed, carrying baskets in their hand.


    Ambrose passed by, talking about various matters to Sergius, who walked too slow. When he noticed Kazuya and Victorique watching from a corner, he turned and said, ¡°It¡¯s dangerous over there!¡±


    ¡°Dangerous how?¡± Kazuya asked.


    ¡°Well, not that dangerous. But it¡¯ll hurt a bit.¡±


    ¡°Wh-What do you mean?¡±


    Ambrose walked away with a mischievous smile on his face. Kazuya looked next to him and saw Victorique frowning.


    It¡¯ll hurt? Wait a sec¡­ Oh, no!


    Kazuya remembered that Victorique was sensitive to pain. He pulled her hand and left the spot. Victorique continued watching the villagers as they scurried around the square. She looked up at Kazuya as he dragged her away.


    ¡°Where are you taking me?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m not exactly sure.¡±


    Once they had left their spot, the girls all squealed. They put their hands in the baskets, grabbed the hard hazelnuts inside, and held their hands high in the air.


    ¡°One, two¡­¡± they cried, then started throwing hazelnuts everywhere.


    The villagers looked on with laughter. The nuts landed on the spot where Kazuya and Victorique had been moments ago. Just then, a young bearded man wearing a hat and glasses wandered by.


    ¡°It¡¯s Alan,¡± Kazuya said. ¡°I invited him earlier. Huh, I guess he¡¯s curious about the festival, after all.¡±


    The girls were making a lot of noise, singing a fertility song and throwing hazelnuts at a man passing by. The man jumped up in pain as he retreated. Laughing hysterically, the girls looked around to see if anyone would pass by next. A young male villager approached them on purpose, and they gladly threw nuts at him. Men ran away. Squeals and screams filled the square as they repeated the routine over and over.


    ¡°Wow¡­ That looks painful,¡± Kazuya muttered.


    Thank heavens for Ambrose¡¯s warning. If we stayed in that spot, Victorique would have been in a lot of pain.


    He glanced at Victorique. She continued observing the villagers.


    After emptying their baskets, the young girls retreated with laughter. Then, young men divided themselves into two groups¡ªthe Winter Army, dressed in brown and riding horses, and the Summer Army, dressed in blue and carrying spears¡ªand started performing a war dance.


    Girls cheered for the Summer Army, while the men danced around them.


    It was a long dance.


    When the Summer Army finally won, the Winter Army dispersed, and a young man at the center of the Summer Army declared victory.


    ¡°Wait, that voice¡­¡±


    Kazuya realized then that it was Ambrose. The young man looked different from any other youth in the village. The villagers were Gray Wolves with glassy eyes that rejected change, while Ambrose was full of youthful brilliance.


    Dressed in blue, Ambrose proudly proclaimed Summer¡¯s victory and this year¡¯s bountiful harvest, waving the torch in his hand around.


    ¡°Begone, Winter Man!¡± he roared, holding the torch over the float parked in the middle of the square.


    On top of the float was an ochre-colored papier-mach¨¦ piece made by Ambrose that represented the Winter Man. Both the float and the papier-mach¨¦ were made of highly-flammable materials. When he dropped the torch, flames instantly engulfed the float and the papier-mache.


    Just then, something stood up on top of the float.


    Ambrose let out a shriek, his face contorted in shock. He continued screaming with his mouth wide open.


    The human-sized papier-mache had stood up and spun around. It kept spinning and spinning while holding its head with both hands, until eventually it fell flat on its face.


    ¡°A person?!¡± Ambrose¡¯s voice carried over the flames. ¡°Let go of me! That¡¯s a person right there!¡±


    Shaking off his companions, he jumped on the float and tackled it, causing it to crash sideways. The entire square shook. Crushed red turnips oozed reddish-purple juice that soaked into the cobblestones.


    Someone rushed to the well and returned with a bucket full of water, pouring it over the burning, writhing papier-mach¨¦.


    The fire died. The papier-mach¨¦ groaned for a while, but then slowly and gradually stopped moving.


    ¡°It¡¯s a person,¡± Ambrose mumbled, stunned. ¡°Soft like a human body. It¡¯s not the papier-mache I made. It changed into a human being!¡±


    A fellow youth pulled Ambrose away, and the young assistant fell on his buttocks.


    ¡°It¡¯s a person¡­ Remove the cloth!¡±


    The villagers opened up a path as Sergius slowly stepped forward.


    With trembling hands, the village chief peeled away the half-burned cloth on the body. When he removed the covering on the face, a massive shock spread through the square.


    ¡°I knew it,¡± someone mumbled.


    On the ground lay a dead man with eyes wide open, his expression one of pure agony.


    Alan.


    Kazuya tried to cover Victorique¡¯s face with his hands so she wouldn¡¯t see, but she shook him off.


    He looked at her with surprise and a little bit of anger. Her calm eyes surveyed the square.


    Kazuya followed her gaze as well, and Harminia¡¯s face caught his attention first. The maid looked surprised, but there was a faint smile on her face. Ambrose staggered back up his feet with the help of the others. His face was twisted in shock. Sergius was examining Alan¡¯s body with a grim expression. The villagers were silent as they looked down at Alan¡¯s body.


    Loud footsteps came from the manor. Kazuya knew right away that it was Mildred. Her raid hair bounced as she came running.


    ¡°I was watching from the balcony of my room,¡± she said. ¡°Was that a person burning?¡±


    As she approached the crowd, she noticed Alan lying on the ground.


    ¡°What? This is horrible!¡± she cried in a shaky voice.


    Derek and Raoul arrived seconds later. When they saw Alan¡¯s condition, they gasped.


    ¡°What happened here?¡± Derek asked, his voice trembling.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Sergius said.


    Raoul just shuddered silently, but Derek started yelling.


    ¡°What did you do?! You won¡¯t get away with this!¡±


    ¡°This was an accident,¡± Sergius said firmly, regarding Derek¡¯s rageful face. ¡°This imbecile swapped himself with the papier-mache while no one was looking.¡±


    ¡°What did you just call him?¡±


    ¡°He probably wanted to disrupt the festival. He didn¡¯t know he would be set on fire.¡± He looked at Alan¡¯s body with disdain. ¡°What a foolish guest.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no way!¡± Derek snapped. He was shaking from anger. His already high-pitched voice was almost cracking.


    ¡°It can¡¯t be!¡± he managed. ¡°We knew! This man here explained the event to us.¡± He pointed at Ambrose. ¡°He said that at the very end, you would set fire to the papier-mache.¡±


    Sergius shook his head. ¡°I believe he was going to jump out of the way right before he caught fire.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous!¡±


    He looked around at the faces of the villagers, but none of them wanted to make eye contact. They seemed to believe Sergius¡¯ words without a trace of doubt. Derek let out a groan of despair and sank down on the ground.


    ¡°Elder Sergius,¡± Ambrose mumbled. ¡°I don¡¯t think this man could¡¯ve done that.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Just a few moments ago, when the girls were throwing hazelnuts, this young man passed by and ran away when he got hit. He hasn¡¯t come to the square since then, and we have a lot of eyes here.¡±


    ¡°What are you saying?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s impossible for him to have switched places with the papier-mache.¡±


    Sergius¡¯ glare hushed Ambrose.


    The villagers stirred. Glassy, doubtful eyes rested on the village chief.


    Irritated, Sergius shot Ambrose a terrifying look. ¡°Don¡¯t say any more. Have you forgotten that talkativeness is the sin of a fool?!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ truly sorry.¡± Ambrose hung his head low.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?! Say something!¡± Derek bellowed.


    Startled by his voice, birds took off from the square and disappeared into the mist.


    The rustling of wings faded into the distance.


    The square was silent. None answered Derek¡¯s question.

 Volume 2 - CH 5.1

    ¡ªmonologue 4¡ª


    Serves you right.


    I tried my best not to show it on my face. I had to appear sad, surprised, shocked.


    Fortunately, no one seemed to notice. I feared that I might have screwed up, but it seems that my worries were unfounded.


    After hearing what he said last night, I could not allow him to live any longer. I have my own plans, and they were on the way.


    I¡¯ll kill the other guy as well.


    The only one stealing that thing and driving away is me. Not them.


    Not them.


    Chapter 5: A Secret Sleeps in the Forest


    It was a little past noon when a carriage arrived at the valley where the nameless village was located. It had come from Horovitz, a town at the foot of the mountain, and had climbed the steep, thorn-covered mountain road.


    The village was so disturbed by the unexpected death of the guest that it suspended its Midsummer festivities. Villagers, including the village chief, had gathered in the dining room of the gray manor for a discussion. When a young man standing guard on the turret noticed the carriage, he lowered the drawbridge with the others to welcome the new guest.


    A foppish young man with blond hair and blue eyes, clothed in a fine silk shirt, silver cuffs sparkling on his wrists, struck an arrogant pose as he looked up at the drawbridge.


    Slowly he crossed the drawbridge.


    The young men on lookout watched the new guest from above, dumbfounded by his strange hair shaped like a bent drill.


    In the gray manor, Victorique de Blois used the commotion to sneak into a room that was off-limits to outsiders. The new guest was, in fact, Grevil de Blois, and he came here in pursuit of his petite and beautiful, yet mysterious little sister.


    She found herself in a room down the dark first-floor hallway¡ªthe study where the murder took place twenty years ago.


    The study was quiet.


    Dust had accumulated on the bookshelves and desks, and sunlight streaming in through the half-open, blue velvet curtains had tarnished the floorboards in places. No one had entered the room in some time, it seemed.


    Victorique gently opened the door and stepped in. She coughed as her small and light footsteps caused dust to rise. Holding her breath, she surveyed the study.


    It was a small room, furnished with a writing desk, a huge bookshelf, and a large chair with curved legs. An iron candlestick sat on top of a chest. The desk, chair, and everything else was big and lavish for such a small room.


    A long display shelf had been built into one of the walls, and inside the glass-fronted cases were a variety of antique weapons, presumably used by knights in the Middle Ages. Heavy spears made of iron and sharpened oak branches, long swords, among others were crammed into the shelf.


    Next to it was a large grandfather clock. The fact that it was working indicated that it was being maintained. The pendulum was swinging idly. The dial was old and faded, but still discernible.


    Victorique stopped and stared at a spot on the floor.


    Her small lips parted.


    ¡°There was a body lying here.¡±


    Her gaze shifted a little.


    ¡°And gold coins lay scattered over here.¡±


    She closed her eyes.


    ¡°Why was there a pile of gold coins on the floor? There must be a reason. There must be. This is a fragment. A fragment of chaos. It will form a part of the whole piece. Think¡­ Think!¡±


    Her green eyes slowly opened. She glanced back at the door.


    ¡°And Cordelia came in,¡± she mumbled. ¡°Opened the locked door. There was no one else but her. The time was supposedly twelve o¡¯clock midnight, but it¡¯s not completely established. Then Cordelia found the body. What about the window?¡±


    She scurried to the window, raising dust in her wake. She flung the curtains open, and dust billowed like smoke. She looked out the window and shook her head.


    Outside was a sheer cliff. She could hear the muddy stream rushing past far below.


    ¡°Not here,¡± she murmured. ¡°They didn¡¯t pass through here. The culprit must have gone out the door. A murder took place in what should have been a completely ordinary study.¡±


    Victorique clenched her pearly teeth. ¡°Mom!¡± she mumbled.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± said a soft and gentle voice.


    Victorique gasped and turned around.


    Harminia was standing there. She had opened the door without a sound. The maid stared down at the little intruder with a reproachful look. Victorique pursed her lips tight.


    ¡°Elder Sergius forbade anyone from entering this room,¡± Harminia said.


    ¡°Why is that?¡± Victorique asked.


    ¡°Why, you ask?¡± Harminia cocked her head, perplexed. She looked like a broken doll.


    ¡°Perhaps because there are things he doesn¡¯t want other people knowing?¡± Victorique continued.


    ¡°What do you mean by that?¡±


    ¡°There is another truth hidden in the incident that took place in this study.¡±


    ¡°Heavens, no!¡± Harminia laughed.


    Her chuckling continued for a while before Victorique cut her off. ¡°Sergius is a man who does not allow objections. I assume that no one could voice their opinion on his decisions as village chief, and that still continues to this day. But I wonder¡­ Perhaps he forbade me from entering the study because deep inside, he feels that his theory was wrong? Or there are things that he doesn¡¯t want others to know about. Am I wrong?¡±


    Harminia¡¯s laughter grew even higher. Eventually, her voice trailed off, and her pale, ghostly face showed signs of fear.


    Her eyes bulged, the pupils hollow and blank, as though peering at nothingness. Red capillaries ran across the whites of her eyes. Shaking her head, Harminia let out a deep breath.


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡± Victorique asked.


    The maid took another deep breath. ¡°Actually, something¡¯s been bothering me for a long time. I couldn¡¯t really say it before.¡±


    Victorique watched her intently.


    Slowly Harminia approached her with silent footsteps. ¡°I was in this manor the night of the incident,¡± she said in a low, reverberating voice. ¡°I remember what happened that night and the subsequent commotion. But I was only six years old at the time. I was terrified of Cordelia and the crime she committed. When I was asked to accompany her during her fever dreams, I refused. I was scared. When the criminal was finally banished from the village with only a few belongings, I felt relieved. Afterwards, I got a fever. That¡¯s how scared I was of Cordelia, of the criminal¡¯s presence.¡± She then went silent.


    The whites of her eyes grew wider, and the pupils moved. It was hard to tell where she was looking. She bent down and brought her face close to Victorique¡¯s cheek.


    ¡°But even after Cordelia was banished, the misfortune didn¡¯t follow her out of the village. Over the next twenty years, the village changed little by little. It somehow lost its colors, like a lonely painting in black and white. And fewer children were being born. The misfortune remained in the village. Then a horrifying thought occurred to me. What if¡­¡± She did not continue.


    ¡°You think the criminal might still be in the village?¡± Victorique asked.


    Harminia¡¯s mouth was shut tight.


    ¡°Elder Sergius made a valid point,¡± the maid continued. ¡°It was easiest to believe that Cordelia was the culprit. The door to the study was locked from the inside, and only Elder Theodore and Cordelia had the key. There was no one else inside. No one but Cordelia would have been able to stab Elder Theodore. Of course, there are things we¡¯re not sure about. We don¡¯t know about the gold coins scattered on the floor, or the fact that everyone had varied testimonies about the time. Nevertheless, the fact remains that Cordelia was the closest to being the culprit.¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­¡±


    ¡°But!¡± Harminia suddenly exclaimed, her eyes bulging even further. ¡°As I grew up, I realized that there was something wrong with this scenario. Elder Theodore was stabbed in the upper back. The dagger was said to have been buried to the hilt. But Elder Theodore was a grown man, while Cordelia was a fifteen-year-old girl. They had different heights.¡±


    With a bright smile, she put her hands together, raised them up, and swung them down from above as hard as she could. For one chilling moment, an invisible dagger glinted in the sunlight and pierced the afterimage of a man who had died twenty years before.


    ¡°She would¡¯ve done it like this. But why did Cordelia go all the way behind Elder Theodore? Since she was shorter, she would have to exert a lot more effort to bury the dagger deep into the hilt.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±


    ¡°If I had to stab a man bigger than me, I would do it like this.¡±


    Harminia held the invisible dagger in front of her belly and charged straight forward. Her eyeballs moved, and she tilted her head.


    ¡°See?¡± she said, looking at Victorique.


    ¡°I agree.¡±


    Harminia suddenly turned quiet.


    ¡°Who killed him?¡± Victorique asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I just thought that something was wrong.¡±


    Harminia said no more and hurried out of the study. Victorique was left alone in the room, watching the maid as she went away.


    ¡°A peculiar way of stabbing someone,¡± Victorique murmured. ¡°Gold coins scattered about. And the varied testimonies about the time¡­¡±


    She shook her head. Sunlight pouring through the window made motes of dust in the air glitter. The only sound was the slow, rhythmical, ticking of the grandfather clock¡¯s pendulum.


    Click!


    The grandfather clock started chiming.


    Victorique¡¯s eyes grew wide. She listened to the sound. A tinge of red touched her cheeks, and her expression brightened. She opened her small lips to say something.


    Suddenly, a flapping of wings came from outside. Victorique looked up and glared out the window, annoyed for having her thoughts interrupted. Several white pigeons were flying past, soaring into the leaden sky.


    Victorique¡¯s expression turned somber. She was thinking.


    Her emerald eyes quivered, eyes that burned, like green flames ablaze, yet somehow strangely cold.


    Slowly, her eyes narrowed. Several seconds ticked by.


    Victorique raised her head. A cold look of pure conviction was on her face.


    ¡°The Fountain of Wisdom has spoken to me. All the fragments have been reconstructed!¡±


    She turned to the door of the study, and her face clouded over.


    ¡°But how do I prove it?¡±

 Volume 2 - CH 5.2

    Meanwhile, Kazuya was running all over the place¡ªthe square, the cemetery¡ªin search of Victorique.


    The things flashing through his mind made him anxious. The wolves chasing them yesterday. The eyeball in the jug. Someone hiding under the sheets in the next room to scare them. The horrific murder that happened just now.


    Kazuya wandered around, asking the villagers if they had seen the girl with him, but to no avail.


    As he breathed a sigh, he felt something pointy poking the back of his head. He turned around and saw what looked like the tip of a golden drill filling his vision. Fearing his eyes getting stabbed, Kazuya backed away.


    ¡°You there,¡± said a man¡¯s voice, quivering with anger. ¡°Kazuya Kujou, was it?¡±


    ¡°Inspector?!¡±


    Inspector Grevil de Blois was standing there, carrying an oversized, square travel suitcase. His face was contorted, and his hands were trembling. He seemed furious.


    ¡°Huge luggage you got there,¡± Kazuya remarked.


    ¡°What¡­¡±


    ¡°Victorique¡¯s luggage was also awfully big. Must be genetic.¡±


    ¡°What are you¡­¡±


    Veins popped on the man¡¯s forehead. ¡°What are you doing here?! And where¡¯s uhh¡­ that long-haired, sassy, little¡­¡±


    ¡°Do you mean your sister?¡± Kazuya asked.


    The inspector did not answer. He stamped his foot, breathing hard.


    ¡°She¡¯s here, isn¡¯t she?¡± he said finally.


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡±


    ¡°You would never come to this village alone.¡±


    ¡°Her mother apparently grew up here.¡±


    The inspector shook his head and groaned. ¡°Where is she?!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m actually looking for her as well.¡±


    ¡°How can you be so carefree?! As you know, she needs special permission to go out. That¡¯s why she has hardly ever left the campus. Before she was admitted to the academy, she was locked inside a tower. If they find out that she came all the way here without permission, I¡¯ll be in trouble!¡± He stamped his foot again.


    ¡°Trouble how? Why can¡¯t Victorique go outside? I think anyone can take an occasional vacation, or go shopping on the weekends.¡±


    The inspector ignored him.


    Kazuya sighed. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you knew she¡¯d be here.¡±


    ¡°Of course I know. She had never snuck out of the academy before. If she did, the only place she would go would be here.¡±


    ¡°¡­I see.¡±


    While they were talking, Kazuya spotted a woman with red hair from afar. Before she could pass by, she gasped and whirled around.


    ¡°Oh, by the way, Inspector. The person who stole the Dresden plate at the bazaar came here with us for some reason. You know, the nun¡­ a weird nun, though, I gotta say. She likes gambling, booze, and money.¡±


    Curiously, the inspector again ignored him.


    Kazuya studied the inspector¡¯s face. Something¡¯s not right.


    Thinking back, the inspector was acting strange when Victorique solved the theft of the Dresden plate. When he found out who the culprit was, he left the library with a frown and did not arrest them. And now, it looked like Mildred was trying to run away the moment she spotted the inspector.


    While Kazuya was deep in thought, the front door of the manor opened and Victorique stepped out. The inspector gasped. He placed his hands on Kazuya¡¯s shoulders and shook him.


    ¡°Listen! Tell her to return to the academy immediately! Understood?!¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you tell her yourself?!¡±


    Hearing the two arguing, Victorique raised her head, but she did not seem surprised. Kazuya pulled himself away from the inspector and rushed toward Victorique.


    ¡°Where on earth have you been?¡± he asked. ¡°I¡¯ve been looking all over the place for you.¡±


    Kazuya was all worked up, but Victorique continued walking at a quick pace, lost in thought.


    When he didn¡¯t stop talking, she finally noticed him. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s you.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t give me that. Your brother¡¯s here, by the way.¡±


    ¡°Ah, Grevil. I was expecting him to show up soon.¡±


    ¡°Really? How did you know?¡±


    She looked at him with genuine surprise on her face. ¡°You didn¡¯t notice?¡±


    ¡°Notice what?¡±


    ¡°That.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°Never mind,¡± she groaned.


    She walked away without another word, and Kazuya quickly followed.


    ¡°Anyway, you can¡¯t just wander around all alone after such a horrific incident,¡± he said. ¡°If you don¡¯t want to go home, fine, but please don¡¯t leave my side.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°Because I¡¯m worried about you!¡± he flared.


    Victorique regarded his face curiously at first, but her expression gradually hardened. ¡°I don¡¯t have time for this right now.¡±


    ¡°Is that all you have to say? I¡¯m just worried¡ª¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to worry about me.¡±


    Kazuya was taken aback.


    ¡°Leave me alone. Why are you so nosy? Don¡¯t you have anything better to do?¡±


    ¡°What?!¡±


    Kazuya¡¯s face turned red with rage. His mouth flapped open and shut as he tried to argue back, when he heard someone calling them from afar.


    They turned around to see Ambrose standing in front of the cathedral, beckoning them. They exchanged looks. After calling a temporary truce on their bickering, they headed for the cathedral.


    Several teenage boys and girls had gathered in front of the cathedral. Ambrose looked exhausted, but he tried to be cheerful.


    ¡°Elder Sergius decided to continue the Midsummer Festival,¡± he said.


    According to Ambrose, youngsters were gathered up at the cathedral during the evening of the Midsummer Festival to tell their future.


    After the skit, in which the Summer Army emerged victorious, the cathedral would be left unoccupied in the evening. The ancestors then come to the square through the empty cathedral, and at night a ceremony would be held in which the ancestors were invited to witness the village¡¯s bountiful harvest.


    Before that, a ritual would be held, where the young ones were told their future in the form of questions to the spirits of their ancestors. Apparently, the village chief, Sergius, would speak on behalf of the spirits.


    ¡°Since you¡¯re here, why don¡¯t you two give it a go? Just get in line. I¡¯ll be assisting Elder Sergius.¡±


    Victorique didn¡¯t want to bother, but Kazuya insisted, so they got in line.


    It was humid inside the cathedral. It had a high ceiling that was narrower near the top, and even a whisper seemed to reverberate through the place. Stained glass glittered on the windows.


    The interior was dark and somber. Thin rays of sunlight cast through small flower-shaped holes on the rose window fell on the floor. Glittering dust drifted in the air like snowflakes.


    In the large hall were five rows of stone benches, sprinkled with pink, orange, and cream-colored flowers.


    At the farthest end of the cathedral was a small chapel that looked like a tiny house with its pointy roof. It was dark and gloomy, with no flowers or sunlight to brighten it up.


    A faint light came on inside the chapel. Tiny candle flames flickered in the dark. Next to the candle stand was an old vase, illuminated as if it was something precious. Kazuya realized that it was the same vase that the men dropped in the holy water.


    As Kazuya¡¯s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw Sergius and Ambrose sitting inside the chapel. Sergius was wearing a toga reminiscent of a monk. A purple-colored sash hung down from his shoulder to the floor. Eyes closed, he gulped down water from a glass. Each time he emptied the glass, Ambrose would refill it.


    The boys and girls took turns going inside the chapel and whispering something to Sergius. The village chief would then close his eyes and go quiet, as if in prayer, before whispering something back.


    Sometimes his message was incredibly long, and sometimes they just spanned a few words. One by one, the youths left, some with satisfied smiles, others frightened and crying.


    A serene and somewhat pious vibe filled the cathedral. If at first Kazuya was flippant about it, the look on the teenagers¡¯ faces made him serious.


    The future, huh? What should I ask?


    Kazuya¡¯s turn came.


    Victorique gave him a shove. ¡°You go first.¡±


    ¡°What? Me? F-Fine¡­¡± Kazuya quietly stepped forward to Sergius. ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­¡±


    Sergius closed his eyes. Kazuya¡¯s mind was busy thinking about what to ask.


    Maybe I¡¯ll ask if I become someone that can help my country and the world.


    ¡°Well, I have this friend¡­¡± His lips moved on their own, and he started saying things that were not on his mind. And once he started talking, for some reason, he couldn¡¯t stop. ¡°She¡¯s a girl. She¡¯s smart, has a sharp tongue, and she¡¯s such a handful. But I strongly believe that it¡¯s not my fault. There¡¯s just something wrong with her. She always makes fun of me, works me like a slave, and then treats me like a nuisance.¡±


    ¡°¡­That sounds terrible.¡±


    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s just one headache after another, and it¡¯s really pissing me off.¡±


    ¡°¡­I understand.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just really, really mad.¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­¡±


    ¡°So what I¡¯m saying is¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­Go ahead.¡±


    ¡°I, uhh¡­¡±


    Kazuya hesitated. He gathered the courage to speak what was on his mind.


    ¡°Will Victorique and I be able to stay together forever?¡±


    His face turned red, and he suddenly felt very sad. He strongly regretted asking the question. Frustration, hope, and other inexplicable feelings filled his chest. He tried his best to ignore them. He thought that these feelings were unmanly.


    The chapel was wrapped in silence. And darkness.


    Something sparkled. It was dark inside the chapel, but a ray of sunlight came in from somewhere, falling on Sergius as he closed his eyes, glittering for a moment, before vanishing.


    It seemed much darker now. Biting his lip, Kazuya waited.


    ¡°You will not die together,¡± Sergius murmured in a raspy voice.


    Kazuya raised his head, and Sergius slowly opened his eyes. His pupils were gone; only two glassy balls of white remained on his face. He opened his mouth and let out a groan.


    At first Kazuya couldn¡¯t quite make out what he was saying, but eventually he picked up the words.


    ¡°Years from now¡­ a gale strong enough to shake the world will blow.¡±


    ¡°Okay¡­¡±


    ¡°Your bodies are light. No matter how strong your feelings are, you are no match for the wind.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°The gale will separate you.¡±


    Kazuya felt his blood run cold.


    ¡°But worry not.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Your hearts will never be apart.¡±


    ¡°Our hearts?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    The black of Sergius¡¯ eyes returned. He drank directly from the jug, the water spilling from his mouth to his chin and down to his toga like a tiny waterfall.


    ¡°You may leave,¡± he said, then called for Victorique next. ¡°Do not ask about your mother,¡± he said firmly.

 Volume 2 - CH 5.3

    Kazuya rushed out of the noisy cathedral.


    It was much brighter outside. The sun was still up.


    He almost tripped on the way out, but he managed to stay on his feet.


    A thick, milky mist hung in the air. Kazuya stood there alone, no one in front or behind him.


    Sergius¡¯ voice echoed in his head.


    ¡°Your hearts will never be apart.¡±


    ¡°The gale will separate you.¡±


    ¡°A gale strong enough to shake the world will blow.¡±


    ¡°Years from now¡­¡±


    ¡°The wind¡­¡±


    Kazuya shook his head wildly. ¡°I¡¯m not buying it. I will never believe in fortune-telling.¡±


    He realized that his voice was trembling. It was unlike him, he thought. He wondered why he had asked such a question.


    While staring at the tips of his shoes, he sensed someone coming from within the mist. They were approaching with silent footsteps. He spotted a small head with braided, golden hair. Bulging eyes darted to Kazuya.


    It was Harminia.


    ¡°Um, I had my fortune told,¡± Kazuya said briefly.


    ¡°Ah.¡± Harminia nodded. Her voice was low, like a man¡¯s, but then it suddenly took on a woman¡¯s high-pitched tone. ¡°I take it it was a terrible one?¡±


    ¡°Uh, yeah¡­ I think.¡±


    ¡°Your future cannot be changed.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t really believe in fortune-telling.¡±


    ¡°Cannot be changed,¡± she repeated with a chuckle.


    While Kazuya stared at the maid blankly, Victorique came from behind.


    Harminia eyed them both, and in a raspy old voice said, ¡°There was, however, a time in the past when the future was changed.¡± She walked away, her figure quickly obscured by the thick veil of mist.


    ¡°What¡¯s her deal?¡± Kazuya said. ¡°Change this, can¡¯t change that. Victorique¡­ Wait, what¡¯s wrong?¡±


    Victorique¡¯s cheeks were puffed like a squirrel whose mouth was stuffed with nuts. And tears filled her eyes.


    Must¡¯ve been a really awful fortune¡­


    ¡°What did you ask?¡± Kazuya asked as they walked toward the manor.


    ¡°It¡¯s none of your business,¡± Victorique huffed. As usual, she was in a very bad mood.


    ¡°True,¡± Kazuya replied, his temper flaring.


    But when he realized that she could ask him the same question, he went quiet.


    Maybe she asked a very serious question that she couldn¡¯t tell other people. In that case, I shouldn¡¯t ask her.


    ¡°I asked if I would grow,¡± Victorique said brusquely.


    ¡°What do you mean, ¡®grow¡¯?¡±


    ¡°Taller.¡±


    ¡°What?!¡± Kazuya stopped and looked at her.


    Victorique¡¯s small head only reached his chest, and he was rather small for a boy. She was quite short for a girl of fifteen. Apparently, her height bothered her.


    Kazuya almost burst into laughter. ¡°Oh, you asked about your height.¡±


    She must have been told that she wouldn¡¯t grow any taller, he thought. He felt sorry for her, but he couldn¡¯t help himself.


    The anger and frustration inside him had vanished. Kazuya had never been one to dwell on things for very long. Except when he was really hurt, like when he clashed with his father and brothers.


    But the quiet and dangerous look in Victorique¡¯s eyes allowed for no smiles.


    ¡°You laughed, didn¡¯t you?¡± she said.


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    Victorique¡¯s expression dimmed. ¡°It¡¯s always like this with you. You don¡¯t understand a thing about me, but you act like you do.¡±


    Kazuya was stunned. It wasn¡¯t like her to say those words. Her tone was darker than usual, and she sounded as though she was about to cry.


    Suddenly, Victorique kicked his shin hard. It didn¡¯t pack much power, but her tiny leather shoe was so hard that Kazuya jumped.


    ¡°Ouch!¡±


    Victorique stared daggers at him. She looked teary-eyed.


    ¡°Hey, that hurts,¡± Kazuya protested. ¡°I said it hurts. Stop it!¡±


    Without a word, Victorique entered the manor ahead of him.


    Before Kazuya could follow her inside, he was stopped by Inspector Blois, who had spotted him. Though concerned about Victorique, he remained behind.


    ¡°Kujou,¡± the inspector called. ¡°Is she, um, heading back? I need her to stay in the academy, or I¡¯ll get in trouble. You go convince her.¡±


    ¡°Uh, well¡­¡±


    Kazuya explained that Victorique was adamant in staying and that he would be sticking with her.


    The inspector snorted. ¡°Does it really matter if you¡¯re with her or not? You seem to get along well, but that¡¯s just between you and her.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean by that?¡±


    Inspector Blois narrowed his eyes. ¡°She shouldn¡¯t be outside. Cordelia Gallo did something she shouldn¡¯t have done in the last Great War. She¡¯s no ordinary human being. She¡¯s dangerous. You just don¡¯t know that yet.¡±


    There was fear and disgust on the inspector¡¯s face. Kazuya regarded him wordlessly. He wanted to ask something, but he didn¡¯t know what to say. He felt as if he did not know anything about Victorique, and it made him sad and angry.


    ¡°Anyway, she has to return to the academy for the time being,¡± the inspector continued. ¡°She was allowed admission on the condition that she stayed there. My father will decide the rest, I believe.¡±


    ¡°Your father? You mean Marquis de Blois?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right! We will probably both get reprimanded. I was the one tasked with watching her.¡±


    Kazuya shook his head. He couldn¡¯t make sense of anything.


    A figure was approaching them from the thick fog. Hearing the loud footsteps, Kazuya whirled around. A second later, the inspector did the same.


    It was Ambrose. He was hurrying away from the cathedral, but stopped when he noticed them.


    Emerging from the fog, he looked like a man from bygone times. His old-fashioned, stiff and fluffy woolen shirt, leather vest, knee-length trousers, and loud, pointy shoes gave him the appearance of a ghost of a peasant from the Middle Ages.


    But his face¡ªwith its long, golden hair, green eyes, and rosy cheeks¡ªwas full of the youthful charm typical of young men who just left their teenage years. His expression was bright with curiosity.


    He smiled at Kazuya. When he noticed the new guest, he said, ¡°We¡¯ve received word from the lookout. Are you¡­ the¡­ new¡­?¡±


    He trailed off, his sparkling eyes staring straight at the drill that sat on top of Grevil¡¯s pretentious face.


    Traces of Ambrose¡¯s childish nature came out, and he quickly forgot his position as the village head¡¯s assistant. He studied the new guest curiously. And then like a child, started bombarding him with questions.


    ¡°If I may ask, sir, is that what¡¯s currently popular among the youth? What is it supposed to represent? And your shirt is made of silk. Do men wear silk shirts too? What are those shiny things on your wrist? Ah, substitute for buttons. So pretty¡­ Is it silver?¡±


    ¡°Ambrose!¡± A steely voice came from deep within the fog.


    Ambrose snapped back to his senses and stopped talking. Inspector Blois didn¡¯t seem to mind the young man¡¯s questions. In fact, he was about to gladly explain to the young man his fashion choices, when an old man, who looked like a priest from the dark ages, appeared from the fog. Startled, he shut his mouth.


    The inspector hid behind Kazuya. ¡°Who¡¯s that?¡± he whispered.


    ¡°The village chief.¡±


    Trembling with rage, Sergius glowered at his young assistant. Even his beard seemed to stand on end. Ambrose bit his lip and hung his head low.


    ¡°Ambrose. You¡¯re still interested in such things? As the next village chief, you will have to protect the village. I endorsed you because I believed you had the potential.¡±


    ¡°Sir¡­¡±


    ¡°You become restless when guests from the outside arrive. Just like when you were young. One day, a descendant named Brian Roscoe suddenly paid a visit, stayed in the village for a while, and used his vast wealth to install electricity in the village. You took to him, and all day long, you begged him to tell you stories about the city. Foolish curiosity. For months after Brian left, you climbed up the turret and looked out over the mountains. You are a grown man now. Have you not changed a bit from when you were a foolish child?¡±


    ¡°I apologize¡­¡± Ambrose hung his head even lower.


    ¡°And your hair is coming undone. Tie it up properly. Don¡¯t let your hair erode your mind.¡±


    Ambrose fumbled with his hair. It didn¡¯t look that disheveled, but two strands of blonde hair hung loose around his neck.


    For a while, Sergius stared at the young man as he tied his hair. He then turned his gaze to the odd, fashionable man hiding behind Kazuya.


    ¡°And who might you be?¡± the old man asked.


    Ambrose told him that he was a new guest. Sergius¡¯ brow furrowed slightly when Kazuya explained that he was Victorique¡¯s half-brother.


    Inspector Blois proudly introduced himself. ¡°My name is Grevil de Blois. I¡¯m a famed inspector by profession. Just kidding¡­ Hmm? Is something the matter?¡±


    As soon as he heard Inspector Blois¡¯ occupation, Sergius¡¯ expression changed. ¡°Are you a police officer?¡±


    ¡°Yes¡­ What of it?¡±


    ¡°In that case¡­¡± Sergius looked Inspector Blois straight in the eye. ¡°There is an incident I would like you to solve.¡±

 Volume 2 - CH 5.4

    Dining room of the gray manor.


    Marble mantelpiece. Glass lamps hanging in the four corners of the lustrous paneled wall. Paintings depicting scenes from the village.


    The luxurious room was as stifling as ever. The low ceiling made Kazuya feel like he was being crushed little by little. He sighed and glanced at Inspector Blois, who was sitting beside him.


    Sergius had practically forced them both to come inside. One after another, old people who seemed to be important figures in the village arrived and sat down. Kazuya and Inspector Blois shrank in their corner seats.


    Harminia entered with silent footsteps, carrying old but well-polished silverware. She served tea, brandy, and wine.


    Sergius was describing to Inspector Blois the incident that had occurred just a few hours earlier, in which a papier-mach¨¦ was replaced by a person and burned to death.


    ¡°In short, Alan was seen roaming elsewhere just before the incident, but he left after getting pelted by the hazelnuts thrown by the girls. Later, when Ambrose set fire to the float with the human-shaped papier-mach¨¦, the papier-mach¨¦ and Alan had somehow switched places. The man was engulfed in flames and died.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± The inspector tapped his foot anxiously as he listened.


    ¡°You came at the right time. If the case remains unsolved, we¡¯d have problems too.¡±


    ¡°Hey.¡± The inspector poked Kazuya in the knee.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Where is she?¡±


    ¡°If you mean your brilliant sister, she¡¯s probably in her room.¡±


    ¡°Go call for her.¡±


    Kazuya¡¯s temper flared. ¡°I know what you want. You¡¯re going to use her and take credit for solving the case. Again. You should go ask her yourself. You never make any sense.¡±


    Inspector Blois looked at Kazuya curiously. Slowly, his face contorted with frustration. ¡°Never!¡± he snarled.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°There is a difference between you asking and me asking. The results are completely different. You don¡¯t realize it yourself, Kujou, but the privilege you enjoy is so odd, it¡¯s like getting free money from a loan shark.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°Just go get her! I¡¯ll be counting on you from now on, Kujou.¡±


    ¡°Why, you¡­¡±


    Despite his grumbling, Kazuya felt uneasy about leaving Victorique alone, so he quietly got up and left the dining room.


    He walked along the low-ceilinged, lavish but suffocating hallway, climbed up the grand staircase with its bronze railings, and knocked on the door to Victorique¡¯s room. The door opened immediately, and Victorique¡¯s unhappy face peeked out.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I just wanted to check on you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine. And I don¡¯t care about you. Leave me alone.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s your deal?! Tsk. Fine. I¡¯ll stop nagging you. By the way, your brother¡¯s in the dining room, calling for help.¡±


    ¡°Help?¡± Victorique blinked.


    ¡°He¡¯s surrounded by villagers who want the Winter Man case solved, but he had this distant look in his eyes like he was absolutely clueless. He told me to come get you.¡±


    ¡°Still the halfwit, I see.¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately, he¡¯s your brother, not mine. What now?¡±


    Victorique inclined her head in thought, then nodded. ¡°Very well, then. Let¡¯s go.¡± She stepped out of her room.


    Kazuya glanced at the other rooms. ¡°Where are the others?¡±


    ¡°Mildred seems to be in her room. Apparently, she¡¯s not too interested in the festival. The two men had been making a racket in one of their rooms earlier, but they seem to have gone outside. They were more resentful of the villagers than mournful of their friend¡¯s death. They think that the villagers killed him after disrespecting their custom.¡±


    Victorique started padding along the hallway, and Kazuya followed. Walking behind her, he stared at the fringes peeking out from under the hem of her hoop skirt. Her laced leather shoes were so small that they seemed like children¡¯s footwear. Victorique¡¯s petite figure was puffed up by the hoop skirt, laces, and velvet, bobbing with her every step.


    When they returned to the dining room, everyone but Inspector Blois had risen from their chairs. The large windows were open, and the dark forest outside seemed to creep into the room. Black tangled branches and dense foliage allowed no light to penetrate through.


    Sergius was holding a hunting rifle.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Kazuya asked, shocked.


    ¡°Wolves,¡± the old man said curtly.


    Kazuya followed Sergius¡¯s gaze deep in the woods, but saw nothing. When they arrived at the village, Sergius had reacted to a faint sound and fired into the forest, claiming there were wolves.


    There was a sound of a branch snapping.


    ¡°I knew it!¡± Sergius fired into the forest before anyone could stop him.


    A gunshot rang out.


    Victorique gasped. ¡°No¡­!¡± she murmured. Gnashing her pearly little teeth, she rushed to the window, preventing Sergius from firing a second shot. ¡°Stop!¡±


    A groan drifted from the woods. Sergius lowered his rifle. ¡°It¡¯s dead.¡±


    ¡°No! That was a human voice!¡±


    Sergius just stared at her, not grasping the meaning of her words.


    ¡°I heard those two talking about strolling in the woods!¡±


    Victorique spun and bolted out of the room. Ambrose, who was in the hallway, looked at her in surprise.


    Kazuya and the others followed her, out the front door and into the woods just outside the dining room window.


    Victorique pushed her way through the black branches. Her dress caught on the twigs and was getting dirty quick. Kazuya stayed close behind her.


    Bizarre-sounding moans came from outside the forest.


    It sounded like a human stifling cries, or a beast grunting.


    Not knowing where the sound was coming from, Kazuya looked up above. Thin black branches and overgrown leaves rustled ominously in the wind, blocking the sky.


    Wolves¡­


    Wild wolves lived in this forest¡­


    ¡°Victorique!¡± Kazuya gritted his teeth and went after her.


    An eerie groan came from behind. Victorique stopped. The groans grew louder and higher.


    ¡°Victorique?¡± Kazuya called.


    Victorique slowly turned around, frowning. ¡°This is the second one,¡± she said.


    ¡°Second what?¡±


    ¡°Raoul has been killed.¡±


    Kazuya scurried toward Victorique and looked at the direction she was pointing at.


    Raoul was lying on the ground, bleeding from his chest. His eyes were wide open, staring blankly at an empty space. One look and it was clear that he was already gone.


    The shrill cries came from Derek, who was running after Kazuya and Victorique from outside the forest. He stopped, and when he saw Raoul lying on the ground, his cries grew louder.


    ¡°We were taking a walk together,¡± the young man said. ¡°Raoul went deeper into the woods. He thought it would be fun. Then I heard a gunshot, followed by Raoul¡¯s voice. It sounded like a short yelp. I knew then that he was shot. But why? He¡¯s dead! Why was he shot?!¡±


    ¡°He was mistaken for a wolf,¡± Kazuya said.


    Derek¡¯s mouth dropped open. ¡°A wolf?¡±


    Villagers arriving fell silent once they saw the gruesome scene.


    ¡°You saw the village chief firing into the forest yesterday, didn¡¯t you? He heard a sound from deep in the woods, and thought it was wolves.¡±


    ¡°Villagers don¡¯t venture into the forest,¡± Ambrose added. ¡°He didn¡¯t think it was a person.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?! Can¡¯t you see he¡¯s dead?! He¡¯s been killed! I could have been shot. Do you understand that?!¡±


    Derek¡¯s voice was piercing. The villagers silently glanced at each other.


    Victorique picked up something from the ground. Noticing Kazuya¡¯s gaze, she let him see it, but he had no idea what it meant. Victorique¡¯s eyes narrowed, and she nodded.


    A hazelnut was sitting on her hand.

 Volume 2 - CH 5.5

    ¡°There¡¯s no hazelnut trees in this forest, Kujou,¡± Victorique explained as they left the woods. ¡°In short, it should not have been on the ground.¡±


    ¡°So what does that mean?¡± Kazuya asked, trotting behind her.


    ¡°It was the hazelnut thrown at the late Alan.¡±


    ¡°Okay¡­¡±


    ¡°By the way, where¡¯s Mildred?¡±


    ¡°H-How should I know?¡± Kazuya replied in surprise. ¡°Probably in her room.¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Victorique yawned.


    For a while, the village was in a state of confusion, but the villagers continued the festival nonetheless.


    Ambrose spotted them. ¡°Elder Sergius insists that he shot a wolf, not a man,¡± he said with a sigh.


    Victorique was silent for a while, staring curiously at Ambrose¡¯s face.


    ¡°What do you think?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Me?¡± Ambrose opened his mouth, but closed it again, as though afraid to answer. He was silent for a while, searching for the words, then like a broken dam, he went on. ¡°I can¡¯t say. No one saw Mr. Raoul fall. But if I were in Elder Sergius¡¯ shoes, I would suspect that maybe I had killed him. No one saw a wolf. If I want to insist that I¡¯m innocent, I need proof.¡± Staring at Victorique, he hesitated for a moment. ¡°Whether you¡¯re guilty or innocent, proof is necessary.¡±


    His words seemed to be directed not only at Sergius, but Cordelia Gallo as well.


    Victorique nodded. ¡°Exactly.¡±


    There was an air of sympathy between them.


    ¡°By the way, Ambrose,¡± she added. ¡°You want the Midsummer Festival to go off without a hitch and eradicate the root of this evil, yes?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°Chaos churns in the nameless village, and I hold all the fragments of its cause. If I can reconstruct the pieces, I can solve the mystery. Most of the time I toy with them to stave off boredom, and very rarely do I verbalize them in a way that others can understand. Why? Because it¡¯s tedious. It¡¯s like asking an adult to explain a very complex problem to a child. It¡¯s bothersome, so I seldom verbalize it. Only Kujou right here can convince me to do it every time.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Kazuya said, a little surprised.


    Victorique turned her face away, ignoring him.


    ¡°So you don¡¯t normally explain things, but you do if I ask? I see¡­¡±


    ¡°Shut up,¡± Victorique growled.


    Kazuya shut his mouth quick. ¡°S-Sorry¡­¡±


    ¡°Um, what do you mean by that exactly?¡± Ambrose asked, puzzled.


    ¡°I know who the culprit is,¡± Victorique answered.


    ¡°What?! What do you mean?! I thought it was Elder Sergius who shot Raoul.¡±


    ¡°If I said you were wrong, what would you do?¡±


    ¡°But he fired his rifle back then¡­¡±


    ¡°He did, but how do you know that it was his bullet that hit Raoul?¡±


    ¡°I, uhh¡­¡± Ambrose went silent. His face took on a strange look. He was staring silently at the ground, wearing a blank and unreadable expression.


    ¡°Ambrose, would you like me to verbalize the reconstructed piece?¡±


    ¡°Uhh¡­ I¡¯m not sure I follow.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s asking if you want to know who the culprit is,¡± Kazuya translated.


    ¡°I-I see¡­ Yes, of course.¡± Ambrose¡¯s voice was hard.


    ¡°Then lend me a hand.¡±


    ¡°Lend a hand with that?¡±


    ¡°I will find who killed Alan and Raoul. In return, you will help me reconstruct the fragments of the chaos from twenty years ago.¡±


    ¡°Twenty years ago¡­ Do you mean Elder Theodore¡¯s murder?¡±


    ¡°Yes. The culprit is someone else. But to prove it, I need both your help.¡±


    ¡°Wait, both? Both who?¡± Kazuya asked curiously.


    ¡°Ambrose and you, Kujou.¡±


    Kazuya and Ambrose exchanged glances.


    Victorique¡¯s eyes gleamed coldly, green flames blazing within. ¡°I sometimes use the reconstruction of chaos in making deals. In exchange for my solving a mystery, I demand appropriate compensation.¡±


    Kazuya remembered the first time he met Victorique. She had demanded that Kazuya bring her some rare food in exchange for the truth of the incident he was involved in. When he mentioned it, she chuckled.


    ¡°I would not count that as appropriate compensation,¡± she said. ¡°I usually demand a greater and more painful sacrifice. A habit of mine since I was young. I tried to make my demands as devilish as possible. To stave off my boredom, of course.¡± She laughed, remembering something. She looked like she was having a lot of fun. ¡°That is why Grevil despises asking me for help.¡±


    ¡°Ah, I get it now.¡± Kazuya nodded. He understood a little more about the siblings now. He recalled the conversation he had with Inspector Blois earlier. ¡°Speaking of which, he mentioned something about a loan shark.¡±


    ¡°I believe he meant me.¡±


    ¡°He looked angry.¡±


    Victorique gave a shrug.


    Evening came.


    The Midsummer Festival went on, and the time when the villagers¡¯ ancestors were supposed to return through the cathedral was approaching.


    One by one, the priests and young men on guard at the cathedral left and gathered in the plaza. After leaving the cathedral empty, they would wait for their ancestors¡¯ return. Once they arrived, the final event would begin, where the villagers showed their bountiful harvest.


    As the sky darkened, several large torches were erected in the square, illuminating the old cobblestones and the villagers dressed in medieval attire. The place seemed even brighter than during the daytime.


    Victorique, Kazuya, Ambrose, and a few of the village youths, were hiding with bated breath in the cathedral, behind the petal-strewn benches.


    The building was currently unoccupied. It was so quiet that they could even hear the crackling of the torches in the square. It was humid and much colder here. Sweet fragrance wafted from the scattered flower petals.


    The cathedral, which was dark and somber even during the day, seemed even darker and colder. Pale moonlight spilled in through the rose window. Orange light from the torches in the square filtered through the stained glass, faintly illuminating the floor. Once their eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, they were able to make out each others¡¯ faces.


    Victorique gave a small sneeze. Kazuya almost sneezed too, but held it in.


    ¡°Why are we here?¡± Kazuya asked in a whisper.


    ¡°Because the culprit will come here,¡± Victorique replied.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°There is always someone in the cathedral, and the only time it¡¯s empty is now, when the spirits of their ancestors pass through. The culprit will use this opportunity to steal.¡±


    ¡°Steal?¡±


    ¡°Steal what?¡± Ambrose asked. ¡°There¡¯s nothing worth stealing in this village.¡±


    ¡°You might not know this,¡± Victorique said grimly, ¡°but some things are valuable old. On the one hand, humans seek out new stimuli with insatiable desire. On the other, they¡¯re also odd creatures that value old and rare things. Things created in the past are different from those of today, and their numbers decrease over time. Thus, collectors are willing to pay any amount for them. Kujou, you remember the Dresden plate, don¡¯t you?¡±


    Kazuya nodded. He recalled the plate on display at the bazaar. It was very old and looked like it would break at any moment, but there was something about it that fascinated him. When he asked Mildred about its price, the price shocked him. Mildred proudly declared that it was because of its age.


    ¡°For some people, this village is a treasure trove. There are many old and valuable items here that collectors would covet for any amount of coin. The old chest in the room, the cracked statue of Mary, and the old silverware for our meals. And¡­ Ssh!¡±


    The massive wooden doors of the cathedral opened silently, and someone slipped into the darkness. Their stealthy footsteps echoed faintly on the tiled floor.


    Whoever it was tread softly, trying their best to not make a sound. Light from the torches in the square fell on the mysterious figure, casting a thin and long shadow on the floor that reached all the way to the stone ceiling. The shadow wavered as it came closer and closer.


    As the figure passed by the bench where they were hiding, moonlight from the rose window illuminated their profile briefly. There was a thin smile on their waxen face.


    Squinting, Kazuya saw the culprit¡¯s face in the darkness.


    ¡°No way! Him?!¡±


    ¡°Do you remember what Mildred said about the vase being submerged in holy water?¡± Victorique asked.


    Kazuya thought about it for a moment and nodded. Last night, Mildred ranted to them.


    The men entered the cathedral and dropped an old precious vase into a large basin of holy water. When all three of them did the same thing, the villagers became furious. They said that they only value what¡¯s new and can¡¯t appreciate the real value of things.


    Victorique shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s the opposite. Those three knew its value better than anyone else. That is why, when they first entered the village, they exclaimed as soon as they saw the cathedral¡¯s ancient steeple and rose window. They all had this reverent look on their faces. That was how they actually felt. Captivated. All the subsequent boasting about their watches and radios and insulting the village as old-fashioned were nothing but lies. Alan, Raoul, and Derek, were the most knowledgeable about old things. They must have been thrilled about the Midsummer Festival.¡±


    ¡°Then why did they say all those things?!¡± Ambrose snapped.


    Instead of answering, Victorique raised one hand and pointed to the shadowy figure.


    ¡°Because they were thieves.¡±


    Kazuya and the others gasped.


    The silhouette stepped into the chapel. They fumbled around in the darkness and lifted an old vase with both hands.


    ¡°They dropped the vase into holy water,¡± Victorique mumbled. ¡°Not as a joke, of course. They meant to do that. They were looking for a real antique. They had come all the way here after reading the ad in the newspaper, expecting to find valuable antiques in the hidden settlement of the legendary Gray Wolves. The reason they dropped the vase in the water was to see if it would float or sink. If it was real, it would sink, but if it was a plated fake, it would float. The vase sank. It was the real deal.¡±


    Victorique stood up. ¡°The jig is up, Derek.¡±


    The man gave a start. He was holding a vase with great care, breathing heavily. He stared at Victorique as she appeared from the darkness. His face was cold and blank, as though he were a completely different person from the one who wept over his friend¡¯s death earlier today.


    Derek broke into a run, heading straight for the door through the bench. Scattering flower petals, Kazuya leapt out of the bench and tackled Derek as he approached. The man was protecting the vase, so his movements were slow. He shot Kazuya a terrifying glare and attempted to escape once more. Kazuya grabbed his leg and pulled hard. Derek groaned as his head slammed into the cold stone-tiled floor.


    Ambrose and the stunned youths jumped out a second later and pinned Derek down. Colorful petals danced in the air. Several people surrounded the man and held him down to prevent him from escaping. One of the young men ran out to call the villagers.


    Derek hugged the vase close, as though he didn¡¯t want anyone else having it.


    ¡°This is mine,¡± he said, sniffling. ¡°Mine. I found it. I¡¯m going to take it back to town¡­ and ride away in my car. Not Alan¡­ or Raoul. Me!¡± He looked like a spoiled child.


    Looking down at him, Kazuya noticed something rolling off of Derek¡¯s clothes. He crouched down and picked it up.


    It was a hazelnut.


    When he showed it to Victorique, she nodded. ¡°Yes. It¡¯s a hazelnut. Do you get it now?¡±


    Kazuya shook his head ¡°Nope. Not at all.¡±

 Volume 2 - CH 5.6

    Villagers were gathering in the old stone cathedral.


    Petite but muscular youths were holding down Derek. The villagers stayed a short distance away, looking down at the man with glassy, creepy eyes.


    The cathedral was cold and damp. Pale light from the moon shimmering in the twilit sky spilled from the rose window onto the stone floor.


    Large torches still burned at the now-empty square, the crackling of their flames rolling all the way inside the building.


    Footsteps sounded. The massive, wooden door opened.


    Sergius appeared, accompanied by Ambrose. The village chief¡¯s footsteps echoed loudly on the tiled floor.


    Inspector Blois, who had also appeared out of nowhere, strode toward Derek, acting like he caught the thief.


    ¡°I¡¯ll hear what you have to say back in town,¡± he said. ¡°You are under arrest. Get up.¡±


    ¡°Wait a minute, Inspector,¡± Sergius said in a raspy, but steely voice.


    The inspector looked at the old man. His face was dyed orange from the small torch that Ambrose was holding. The flames flickered in his eyes.


    ¡°I need to hear his explanation.¡±


    The inspector quickly stepped back and gestured something at Kazuya.


    Kazuya gave the inspector a disapproving look, then turned to Victorique. She was crouched on the petal-strewn floor, holding the old bronze vase that Derek was trying to steal with both arms, studying it intently. She looked like a little cat playing with a new toy. Even Ambrose felt hesitant to disturb her. But he steeled himself.


    ¡°Um, Miss Victorique,¡± Ambrose called. ¡°You said you¡¯d solve the case.¡±


    Victorique lifted her head and looked at Kazuya. ¡°Kujou, you explain.¡±


    Kazuya was silent, confused.


    Victorique seemed surprised. ¡°Kujou, you¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah. I get it. I¡¯m a mediocre egghead. So you verbalize it.¡±


    Finally, Victorique let go of the vase and rose to her feet.


    She stepped into the middle of the circle and glanced around. The villagers flinched and took half a step back. Only three people weren¡¯t intimated by her: the village chief Sergius, his assistant Ambrose standing beside him, and the maid Harminia.


    ¡°Alan burning to death after switching places with the papier-mach¨¦, and Raoul being mistaken for a wolf and shot were both Derek¡¯s doing,¡± she began.


    ¡°How did he do it?¡± Ambrose asked. ¡°Before the incident, we all saw Mr. Alan pass by the square and retreat when he got pelted by the hazelnuts. After the battle of the Summer Army and the Winter Army, I set fire to the papier-mach¨¦ myself. There was no time for any switching.¡±


    ¡°The papier-mach¨¦ was replaced with Alan long before that. In the morning, when the square was empty. Ambrose, you briefed us about the festival at dawn. After that, the square was deserted for a time. During that window, Derek knocked Alan out cold, wrapped him in a cloth, and switched him with the papier-mach¨¦.¡±


    ¡°But¡ª¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t Alan you spotted. We saw him from a distance. Alan and Derek have similar builds and all three of them dressed alike. Derek disguised himself with Alan¡¯s signature beard, glasses, and hat to make it look like Alan was passing by.¡±


    Derek looked up. ¡°You have no proof.¡±


    ¡°Raoul is tall. It¡¯s impossible for him to disguise himself as Alan. But Derek, you¡¯re about the same size as him.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡±


    ¡°One more thing.¡± Victorique showed what she was holding in her hand.


    A hazelnut.


    Staring at Victorique, Derek looked puzzled, not sure what she was getting at, but then his pale face turned reddish-black with rage and then despair.


    ¡°Damn it¡­ God damn it!¡±


    ¡°It fell from your body. If you weren¡¯t disguised as Alan, where and how did the hazelnut get into your clothes?¡±


    Derek did not answer.


    Mildred, standing behind the villagers, jumped out, her crimson curly hair bobbing. She pinned Derek down and pulled the cuffs of his trousers.


    Another hazelnut rolled out.


    The damp and dark cathedral was wrapped in a chilling silence. Torchlight streaming through the stained glass windows cast a sinister orange glow on the faces of Victorique and the villagers.


    Victorique broke the silence. ¡°There was a hazelnut near Raoul¡¯s body. That means you were there, Derek.¡±


    Sergius raised his head and shook it, perplexed.


    ¡°In short, Derek lured Raoul into the woods beforehand and shot him. Because of the whips, drums, and blanks fired during the festival, no one cared about a shot fired in the distance. He then waited for the right timing when Sergius walked past or looked out the window to throw a stone into the woods to make a sound. Sergius assumed it was a wild wolf and fired into the forest. Derek then appeared and said that Raoul was in the woods and that he heard a scream.¡±


    ¡°So¡­¡± Sergius murmured. ¡°The one who killed that man¡­¡±


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t you.¡±


    ¡°Good heavens!¡± Sergius¡¯ golden-bearded face contorted. He was silent for a moment, casting his gaze to the skies, and in a whisper that no one could hear said, ¡°I never imagined I would be saved by Cordelia¡¯s daughter.¡±


    Victorique did not respond. She just stared at Sergius with clenched teeth, as though holding something back from bursting.


    ¡°But what¡¯s his motive?¡± Ambrose asked gingerly. ¡°You said they were thieves, but he didn¡¯t steal. He killed.¡±


    ¡°Infighting, most likely.¡±


    Derek lifted his head. A bizarre smile was plastered on his face. ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±


    ¡°Was it a dispute regarding how to split the proceeds?¡±


    ¡°Of course not!¡± Derek snorted. ¡°We wouldn¡¯t fight over something like that.¡±


    ¡°Why, then?¡±


    ¡°I know what things are worth. So I steal to take care of them. I¡¯m not hard-pressed for cash. But all Alan and Raoul wanted was money. They¡¯d been using my own money to steal, but they planned to betray me. One night, I heard them talking about stealing the vase and getting away in my car. I wasn¡¯t planning to sell the vase. I wanted to keep it at my place. But they planned to sell it to a collector for a large sum, and I was in the way¡­¡±


    Derek glared at the villagers¡¯ dark faces. The torch in Ambrose¡¯s hand crackled. Orange flames shone on Derek¡¯s enraged face, giving him an eerie look.


    ¡°You¡¯re all just as guilty,¡± he snarled. ¡°Prehistoric fools. You have no idea how much treasure is in this village. Hey, that maid over there. How could you use such wonderful medieval silverware for your meals? Same with you priests. I can¡¯t believe you would leave a vase like that out in the open. The vase, the utensils, everything would be much happier if they were carefully kept by people who knew their true value!¡±


    ¡°I believe things are happy when they are used,¡± Ambrose said.


    ¡°What do you know?!¡± Derek snapped, then hung his head, sobbing.


    The villagers¡¯ thick silence pervaded the cathedral. The air became more humid, caressing the cheeks of everyone present, and the moon grew brighter, its light casting the rose window¡¯s pattern on the floor.


    ¡°Take him away!¡± Sergius ordered. ¡°I will decide what to do with him.¡±


    Inspector Blois protested, but Sergius cut him off. ¡°We have laws in this village. You will obey them while you¡¯re here.¡±


    ¡°This village is within the Kingdom of Sauville. You must obey Sauville¡¯s laws and its police.¡±


    ¡°This village is within Sauville, you say?¡±


    Sergius threw his head back and guffawed. His laughter rose to the ceiling, the sparkling stained glass, and up the starry night sky. His glassy, green eyes took in Inspector Blois.


    Inspector Blois backed away, as if fearing something invisible. There was something else there besides Sergius¡¯ petite figure, something he couldn¡¯t see. It was the very thing that the residents of the town at the foot of the mountain feared.


    ¡°This is not a village,¡± Sergius mumbled with a laugh.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You think this is Sauville? You know nothing, dear guest.¡±


    The villagers had all left the cathedral, leaving only Sergius and Inspector Blois. Moonlight pouring down from the ceiling made the inspector¡¯s face look even paler than usual. Petals scattered on the stone floor had wilted, as if something nonhuman¡ªGray wWolves¡ªhad sucked the life out of them.


    Sergius continued laughing.


    Doubt crossed Inspector Blois¡¯s face as he stared at him. He thought the old man was crazy.


    Sergius, on the other hand, looked delighted.


    ¡°This is the Kingdom of Saillune,¡± he muttered softly. ¡°I am not the village chief. I¡¯m the king. We are of different races to begin with. Do you understand?¡±

 Volume 2 - CH 5.7

    The torches in the square were ablaze, their flames crackling into the night sky. Villagers bustled about¡ªdonning their costumes, shouting at each other¡ªso they could resume the Midsummer Festival.


    ¡°What was the final event again?¡± Mildred asked as she approached with loud footsteps, her red hair bouncing.


    Kazuya and Victorique exchanged glances.


    ¡°Uh¡­ If I recall correctly,¡± Kazuya said, ¡°they will show their abundant harvest to the spirits of their ancestors¡­¡±


    Hearing their conversation, Harminia came closer, and in a low, rumbling voice added, ¡°Our ancestors speak in the language of the afterlife. A language incomprehensible to us. We cannot hide anything from the spirits of the dead.¡±


    ¡°R-Right. Ambrose was excited to play the role of the ancestor. He made that black mask, and all.¡±


    Together with the papier-mach¨¦ of the Winter Man.


    Kazuya recalled the time when Ambrose asked him about the custom in his country, where the spirits of their ancestors returned for one day during summer.


    When he left his home, he quietly closed the door to his heart, and he¡¯d been standing still in front of it ever since. He had always been careful not to open it, lest he felt sad. But as he participated in the Midsummer Festival celebration in this mysterious medieval village, the lock to the door loosened little by little, and now, suddenly, it opened. Kazuya swallowed and closed his eyes.


    Wistful memories came flooding back.


    Cicadas buzzed.


    Blending in with their chitters were the soft chirping of the higurashi¡ªevening cicadas.


    The summer sun shone bright on the hand fan that a family member left on the porch. He could hear the soothing sound of water drifting in from somewhere. His mother raised her kimono a little, and with a smile, sprinkled water on the dry garden.


    As he lay on the dark tatami room, staring blankly at the dazzling garden, his mother¡¯s silhouette moved closer to the porch with soft footsteps and an equally soft laughter. The glaring sun prevented him from seeing his beloved mother¡¯s face clearly.


    ¡°Kazuya. Hurry up and change or your father will scold you.¡±


    The young Kazuya quickly got up. The sliding door flung open, and his father, dressed in a haori and hakama, stepped in. His two brothers followed behind, also dressed in formal attires. They looked like triplets. They were large, with broad shoulders and robust chests, and always filled with confidence.


    His father looked down at Kazuya, who was sitting dazed on the tatami mats. ¡°What are you dawdling around for, Kazuya?¡± he asked with surprise. ¡°Get changed, quick!¡± He turned to his mother. ¡°You¡¯re not supervising him enough.¡±


    His mother, standing on the concrete floor of the porch, replied with soft smile, ¡°My apologies.¡±


    Kazuya shrank, knowing that his mother was scolded because of him.


    He hurried out of the room to get dressed, and passed by his sister in the dark hallway. She was holding a bouquet of chrysanthemums. She looked lovely in her kimono.


    ¡°Pretty, right?¡± she said. Captivated by the fine silk kimono, Kazuya muttered some words of praise.


    ¡°You¡¯re a good boy,¡± she said with a smile.


    Hearing his father¡¯s booming voice from inside, Kazuya quickly went to get changed.


    It was the day of their ancestors¡¯ return. Later, Kazuya¡¯s whole family went to the cemetery for a visit.


    It was hot outside.


    Cicadas buzzed, while the higurashi chirped softly.


    With his father leading them, they walked along the path to the temple. His older brothers walked behind his father, and the young Kazuya, with his mother on his right and his older sister on his left, tried his best to keep up with the grownups.


    The men¡¯s back were huge.


    The grass along the roadside and the leaves on the trees glowed bright green under the sun. Summer in his country was beautiful. It was Kazuya¡¯s favorite season.


    A hot wind blew past, and his mother¡¯s white parasol spun.


    The gust tousled his sister¡¯s glossy black hair, blocking his vision. Startled, Kazuya fell on the stone steps and yelped. His mother and sister helped him up, giggling. They smelled sweet¡ªa woman¡¯s scent, full of tender affection that wrapped you in its embrace, a scent that his father and brothers somehow lacked.


    When they arrived at the temple, his father spoke in front of the grave about how his male ancestors had been great generals and statesmen. As he rumbled on, his mother¡¯s fair and slender arms took the bouquet of chrysanthemums from his sister and placed it before the grave. She then took a ladle of water and poured it over the gravestone. It was always his mother¡¯s slender arms that sprinkled the water. Just watching the water flow overwhelmed him with emotions.


    His father continued on, while his brothers listened proudly. Their ancestors were fine men, and so was their father. His brothers would follow their example too, in the near future. Kazuya tried to listen to his father¡¯s words, but they were too difficult for the young Kazuya to understand.


    In that moment, a summer butterfly approached Kazuya. It was a radiant, golden color, with translucent wings. When he reached for it, it flew away, but then stopped a short distance from him, as if inviting him to join it. Gold was Kazuya¡¯s favorite color. Eventually, the little butterfly fluttered away. Kazuya never told anyone about the golden butterfly, and how it never left his mind.


    Cicadas cried in the distance.


    Summer in his country was beautiful.


    Kazuya opened his eyes.


    He was standing vacantly in the square of the nameless village, his eyes wide open. No one around him noticed his momentary trip down memory lane.


    Only a few years passed since then, but it seemed like a distant memory. He wondered if it was because of the sheer distance, being across the ocean.


    He glanced to his side and saw Victorique¡ªhis little golden butterfly, now¡ªwatching the hustle and bustle of the square with wide-open eyes. Mildred, standing next to her, was also quiet, her eyes distant, as if remembering something. No one spoke. It was a moment of quietude.


    Watching the hubbub, they were all silent, lost in their own thoughts.


    Suddenly, Victorique reached for Mildred¡¯s crimson, cotton-candy hair, and gave it a tug.


    ¡°Ouch! Wh-What are you doing?!¡±


    ¡°So, Mildred.¡±


    ¡°Wh-What is it?¡±


    ¡°How do you know Grevil?¡±


    Mildred¡¯s fair, freckled cheeks instantly turned pale. ¡°I-I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about.¡±


    ¡°Do you work for him? Or are you a friend?¡±


    Mildred sighed in resignation. Kazuya¡¯s gaze darted back and forth between them, wondering what Victorique was talking about.


    ¡°How long have you known?¡± Mildred asked.


    ¡°Since the moment you boarded the train.¡±


    ¡°You knew right from the start?!¡±


    ¡°What are you two talking about?¡± Kazuya cut in.


    Victorique grumbled for a bit, but eventually gave in. ¡°Kujou, did you really not notice?¡±


    ¡°Notice what?¡±


    ¡°Mildred works for Grevil.¡±


    ¡°What?!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re unbelievable¡­ Listen, Mildred here stole the Dresden plate¡ª¡±


    Mildred gave a grunt. ¡°You know about that too?¡±


    ¡°Of course. But Grevil turned a blind eye. Why? Because they were working together in some capacity. When I snuck out of the academy, she somehow found out and followed me everywhere. Even when she was hungover, she joined us in the rocking carriage. And she was calling someone. There was someone she had to report to.¡±


    ¡°In short¡­?¡±


    ¡°Grevil asked her to keep an eye on me. That¡¯s why he didn¡¯t arrest her for stealing the plate.¡±


    ¡°I screwed up while playing poker,¡± Mildred said wearily. ¡°I approached him at a bar in the village. He¡¯s a nobleman, wears expensive clothes. And he looked dumb. I thought he was an easy target, but a card I use for cheating fell out of my sleeve in the middle of a game. He had lost a lot at that point, so he was adamant about arresting me. I then agreed to do the job you just mentioned. Since then, he¡¯s been working me like a slave. It¡¯s a real pain in the neck, I tell ya.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s your fault for cheating,¡± Kazuya remarked.


    ¡°I wanted money, okay?!¡± She stamped the ground, and her large breasts jiggled. She was oozing sexual charm that seemed to drip to the ground like sweet honey. ¡°I love money!¡±


    Kazuya was taken aback. Why does she only look sexy when talking about money? he wondered, puzzled.


    ¡°I came from a poor family,¡± she said in a pitiful voice. ¡°We had a hard time. I cried tears of bitterness as I bit down on potato roots.¡± She took out a cotton handkerchief and made a gesture of wiping nonexistent tears. ¡°My dad was a drunk Irish immigrant, and my mom was a¡­ uhh¡­ can¡¯t think of anything¡­ but anyway¡­¡±


    ¡°You can stop making stories now. And your fake tears are not fooling anyone.¡±


    ¡°Hush! Anyway, I can¡¯t help but drool when I see money. I love money so much, it keeps me up at night! I had no idea this village was a treasure trove, though.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare steal anything. Or Elder Sergius will judge you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m poor,¡± she said biting her lip. ¡°Who cares if I steal?!¡±


    ¡°I do!¡±


    They glared at each other for a while. When Kazuya showed no sign of backing down, Mildred eventually gave up.


    ¡°Talk about a stick-in-the-mud.¡±


    Kazuya looked dejected at having one of his flaws pointed out.


    Then, Mildred¡¯s mood somehow brightened. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll return the plate to the church. I stole it because it was expensive, but I couldn¡¯t figure out where to sell it. I wrapped it in a cloth and hid it under my bed. Can you get off my back now?¡±


    ¡°¡­If you return it, sure.¡±


    ¡°You want hush money, right?¡±


    ¡°Not really.¡±


    ¡°Oh, stop being such a tight-ass. You¡¯re such a bore.¡±


    ¡°Wh-What did you say?!¡±


    Suddenly, Kazuya remembered the colorful items she was selling at the bazaar. A shiny ring, laced collar, postcards. He and his classmate Avril checked them all out before choosing the turban.


    ¡°Uhm, in that case, I¡¯d like one of the items you were selling.¡±


    ¡°Hmm? Which one? No expensive stuff, by the way. You don¡¯t like money, so you don¡¯t deserve expensive things.¡±


    ¡°What kind of a twisted logic is that?!¡±


    Kazuya sighed. He then brought his mouth to Mildred¡¯s ear and whispered something. A bizarre expression appeared on her freckled face.


    ¡°Are you sure that¡¯s what you want?¡± she asked, staring at Kazuya.


    ¡°Yes!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a tight-ass, but you¡¯re also weird.¡±


    Kazuya blushed.


    ¡°You¡¯re okay in my book. I like you way better than that pretentious fop.¡±


    Mildred gave a hearty laugh, her crimson hair bouncing.


    Ambrose, carrying a torch, came running as soon as he spotted them. After hesitating for a bit, he handed the torch to Harminia, who was standing beside him.


    The flame crackled, creating orange sparks.


    ¡°The ritual to welcome the spirits of our ancestors is about to begin,¡± Ambrose said.


    ¡°Right!¡± Kazuya nodded.


    Victorique stirred. Kazuya and Ambrose exchanged glances. The young man¡¯s face was a little stiff from nervousness.


    A night breeze blew.


    Crackle. Crackle.


    The torch in Harminia¡¯s dry, pale hands flared higher, the flame swaying from side to side.


    The festival was reaching its climax.

 Volume 2 - CH 6.1

    ¡ªmonologue 5¡ª


    Every night, memories of blood come flooding back to me.


    It happened a long time ago, but night after night, I remember the colors, the sounds, the feel, so vividly.


    The dagger, with its brass ornaments, buried up to the hilt.


    The setting sun burning like flame outside the glazed window.


    The blue velvet curtains rustling faintly in the wind.


    The blade gleaming reddish black, protruding from the chest of a man who toppled without so much as a shriek.


    How after he drew his last breath, there was an otherworldly silence, a silence so deep and profound.


    How I stood there until the sun had sunk completely and darkness blanketed the room.


    I remember coming to my senses and returning to my original spot, swallowing the joy slowly welling up inside me.


    It was as if it all happened just a few moments ago.


    I can¡¯t forget.


    Are you trapped?


    People call us Gray Wolves. But they are wrong.


    Wolves do not kill their own kind. Especially not for a reason like that.


    I stood still with a torch in my hand.


    The Midsummer Festival was finally coming to an end. I smiled all the while as the unexpected guests killed each other, as the mystery of their murders was unraveled and the foolish culprit was apprehended.


    A fool must not commit murder, lest they be caught immediately and judged.


    I will never be judged.


    I touched my face with my free hand. With the tip of my forefinger, I pulled at my lower eyelid, and scratched my eyeball.


    Whenever I felt nervous or angry, my eyes itched. Itched so much. It was the same back then. While I hid in that spot and held my breath, my eyes itched so much that I almost screamed out, but I bore with it. It would be over in a moment, I had thought.


    Back then¡­


    Yes, my mind always cast back to that moment¡ªto the night of the murder.


    Are you trapped?


    In the distance, our ancestors paraded by, torches in their hands, their feet crunching on the gravel. Drums, whips, and fired blanks echoed endlessly in the square in joyous welcome to the spirits of the dead. Whips cracked. Drums rumbled in the chilly air.


    The dark night sky seemed to loom closer. I was beginning to feel like I was on stage, and not under starry skies, a feeling I had whenever the festival was entering its climax. Drums reverberated through the night.


    The parade of our ancestors was nearing the square. They were dressed in sickening colors of red and black and donned creepy tunics, dancing merrily. Residents of the afterlife looked different from those of the living. Their clothes, their movements, their shrill cries¡ªit was hard to believe that they were once human beings just like us. But we must welcome them, our ancestors, to the Midsummer Festival, and give them a joyous send-off.


    They were coming.


    In the lead was a man wearing a black mask.


    While the other men behind him danced merrily, stamping their feet, jumping up and down, the man in the black mask moved awkwardly. His arms jerked in a strange motion, as though he had not moved his limbs for a long time, his legs jolting forward. Tottering, he led the procession, even when it looked like he would tumble at any moment.


    Ambrose had crafted quite the nice mask. The young man must be pleased to be parading around wearing a mask he made himself. He was chosen to play this major role as a reward for his accomplishments as the village chief¡¯s assistant. He must be very proud.


    Our ancestors finally stepped into the square.


    Greeted by cheers and fired blanks, they paraded around in a most amusing manner. The villagers, eager to show their bountiful harvest, joined the dancing procession, with ripe vegetables, barrels of wine, and lustrous fabrics in hand.


    I did not dance with them. I simply stood in a corner of the square and watched.


    No one knew that I had committed murder.


    Laughter spilled from my lips. It was all too amusing.


    The clamor of the festival filled the square. Some villagers were dancing with vegetables in their hands, some with brightly-colored textiles, and some with barrels of wine. Shouts, drums, and the cracking of whips echoed through the air, drowning out my laughter. No one heard me.


    Suddenly, the man with the black mask stopped.


    I was the only one who noticed.


    I swallowed my laughter. For some reason, alarms started ringing in my head. ¡°Run,¡± said a whisper. I stood there, frozen. My heart pounded in my chest.


    A knot formed in my gut.


    The masked man stood slouched for a moment.


    Then he started advancing in quick, awkward motions.


    He raised his head.


    Run!


    An alarm sounded again. But it was too late. My eyes met with the masked man¡¯s. I could no longer move.


    My eyes had locked with the mask¡¯s huge, vacant, uneven eyes.


    The masked man mumbled something. The words did not reach my ears; I could not make them out. But I could clearly hear the voice inside of me.


    It¡¯s too late. It has found you, Harminia!


    Slowly the square grew quieter and darker.


    An eerie silence filled the square now. The night sky suddenly became distant, and the stars began to twinkle.


    I stood there with a torch in my hand. The masked man was mumbling something. The villagers gathered in the square looked at me and the masked man with bated breath. The flame of the torch crackled.


    The masked man¡¯s voice grew louder and louder. But despite his loud voice, I couldn¡¯t make out the words.


    I realized then that it was the voice of the dead. He was speaking in a language that was not of this world. The unfamiliar, otherworldly inflection reverberated in the air. Every trot forward, his voice grew louder and louder, the twisted, expressionless black mask bobbing from side to side.


    I looked around and spotted Ambrose watching me curiously. I found it odd. If Ambrose was there, then it wasn¡¯t him behind the mask. Who was it, then?


    My vision went black for a split-second, and then it came to me.


    I realized who the dead man was.


    I heard a whisper in the back of my mind.


    That¡¯s right. It¡¯s the man you killed, Harminia!


    My legs trembled.


    Gradually, slowly, I was able to discern the masked man¡¯s words. He was right in front of me now. I shrank back and yelped.


    ¡°I found you,¡± he said. ¡°I found my killer.¡±


    I shrieked. His voice sounded bizarre, like the growling of a beast.


    I took a step back.


    ¡°Harminia.¡±


    ¡°Elder Theodore,¡± I called in a shaky voice.


    ¡°You killed me.¡± His voice quivered with rage. ¡°You killed a distinguished man with your young hands. How could you live such a carefree life in the past twenty years? Foolish child!¡±


    I backed away further. ¡°No! It wasn¡¯t me!¡±


    ¡°Gold coins fell.¡±


    My breath seized.


    The man giggled under his mask. ¡°Gold coins fell to the floor. I remember it well, Harminia. The glittering gold coins that spilled from the grandfather clock. I remember. It was my last memory, after all. Harminia, the young murderer¡­¡±


    ¡°G-Gold coins?!¡±


    Only the dead would know that. The dead and me. No one else. The gold coins scattered on the floor¡­


    ¡°Elder Theodore!¡± I cried out. ¡°No! Please, go back to the afterlife!¡±


    ¡°Do you confess to your crime, Harminia?¡±


    ¡°I do. I confess.¡± I waved the torch around. Sparks from the flame danced in the air and fell on me like orange dust. ¡°I killed you!¡±


    The square was silent.


    The big torch in the middle sputtered. A chilly wind blew, pushing the milky mist softly between me and the dead.


    The villagers and guests stared at me in shock. Fear and loathing seeped into glassy, green eyes. They backed away a little.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t have a choice,¡± I groaned.


    Right? I thought. The voice inside me was gone now. I was alone.


    ¡°I was only a child!¡± I screamed in fear.


    ¡°So you killed him.¡±


    Suddenly, the voice behind the mask took on a normal inflection.


    ¡°You really did kill him. You were right, Victorique.¡±


    A little girl appeared from behind the large torch. Cordelia¡¯s daughter. Her clear, green eyes regarded me.


    Puzzled, I strode toward the masked man and ripped his mask off.


    It was one of the guests¡ªthe oriental boy. He was wearing an apologetic look.


    There was nothing frightening about him. He was thin and of small build. He was just a normal boy, good-natured but with a somewhat stubborn look to his face. Not one to be feared.


    He looked sorry, but he showed no sign of backing down.


    ¡°I put on an act so we could hear it from you,¡± he said meekly.


    ¡°So you¡ª¡±


    ¡°Victorique said it was you who killed Theodore.¡±


    I glanced back at Cordelia¡¯s daughter.


    Our eyes met. She was staring back at me.


    There was quiet determination in her eyes that said she was unshakable.


    I stood frozen.


    I felt a burning itch in my eyeballs, as though someone poured oil over them and set them on fire.

 Volume 2 - CH 6.2

    Chapter 6: The Golden Butterfly


    Kazuya removed his mask and hid behind Victorique, turning red with embarrassment. The villagers gathered in the square, holding barrels of wine and colored textiles, watched him with puzzled looks.


    Dancing and acting is too embarrassing.


    Kazuya was reluctant to move, so Ambrose approached him. ¡°About the unfamiliar words you muttered¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the language of my country,¡± Kazuya said. ¡°I have no idea what the language of the afterlife is like, so I used my own language instead. I thought that if people don¡¯t recognize it, it should provide the same effect.¡±


    ¡°How many vowels does it have? Do you write from the right? What, you write vertically?! What about¡ª¡±


    Kazuya eventually managed to interrupt him and called Victorique. ¡°Can you please explain what Harminia did?¡±


    Victorique nodded. There was an odd look on her face as she looked down at Harminia.


    ¡°Pigeons flew,¡± she said.


    ¡°¡­Pigeons?¡±


    ¡°While I was in the study where the incident took place twenty years ago, thinking, Harminia walked in. We had a conversation. After a while, she left, and I continued racking my brain. Then, white pigeons took off outside the window.¡±


    ¡°Okay¡­¡±


    ¡°When I saw them, the Wellspring of Wisdom spoke to me.¡± Victorique looked at Kazuya with a strange smile. ¡°This chaos shares the same structure as the Dresden plate theft at the bazaar. Mildred released a pigeon from under her skirt, drawing everyone¡¯s attention away, and stole the plate. Something that moved was necessary to restrict the people¡¯s line of sight.¡±


    ¡°That sounds about right¡­ So what about it?¡±


    ¡°The pigeon became gold coins. That¡¯s all. Very simple, really.¡±


    They entered the gray manor and gathered in the study where the tragedy took place twenty years ago.


    ¡°At the time of the incident,¡± Victorique began, ¡°Harminia was only a six-year-old child. One of the things she told me about the incident was: it would have been difficult for Cordelia, a girl in her mid-teens, to stab a grown man in the upper back. Why did she say that? Because she wanted to imply that it would¡¯ve been practically impossible for a child to commit the crime.¡±


    ¡°But Harmina was, in fact, a mere child back then,¡± Sergius said.


    ¡°With the right method, it¡¯s possible for her to have committed the crime.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s impossible,¡± the old man insisted, then turned to leave the study.


    ¡°Elder Sergius,¡± Ambrose said. ¡°Please, just listen to what she has to say.¡±


    Sergius shot him a glare. ¡°Foolish young man. You dare reprove me?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s right,¡± Victorique said. ¡°Stay. You only have to listen. Nothing else.¡±


    Sergius whirled back around furiously. But he did not leave.


    An ominous silence drifted into the study. Polished medieval weapons gleamed on the wall shelves. The desk and bookshelf were white with dust.


    ¡°There are several curious points to this incident,¡± Victorique continued. ¡°First: Theodore was found dead in his locked study. Second: the gold coins scattered on the floor. Third: the murder weapon, a dagger, had pierced all the way through his body from the upper back. Lastly: the time.¡±


    Victorique looked into Sergius¡¯ grim face. ¡°Sergius, you said you glanced at your pocket watch, and it was exactly twelve o¡¯clock. Cordelia was also always right on time.¡±


    ¡°That is correct.¡±


    ¡°But the people you were with offered varied testimonies about the time.¡±


    ¡°Indeed. But what does that have to do with anything?¡±


    ¡°Why did the people in the manor that night have mixed perceptions about the time?¡±


    Victorique eyed everyone present. Restrained by the young villagers, Harminia quirked her lips up a little.


    Victorique pointed to the wall. ¡°Because the grandfather clock did not chime that night.¡±


    A large grandfather clock stood there. The numbers on the old, ornate dial had faded, but the pendulum still moved rhythmically.


    Click. Click. Click.


    ¡°That¡¯s right!¡± Sergius exclaimed.


    ¡°The grandfather clock did not sound that night. So only Sergius, who checked the time on his pocket watch, thought it was exactly twelve o¡¯clock when the incident happened, while the rest had varied statements. Now why didn¡¯t grandfather clock chime?¡±


    All eyes were on Victorique¡¯s small face.


    ¡°Because Harminia was hiding inside it.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Sergius scoffed.


    Victorique ignored him and went on. ¡°Harminia snuck into the study before Theodore entered. She then climbed up onto the grandfather clock and hid inside the pendulum compartment, which isn¡¯t impossible for a small child. There she waited quietly for Theodore to come. The clock did not chime while she was inside. When Theodore entered the study later, she used the gold coins next.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Sergius¡¯ face gradually became blank, his cheeks turning pale.


    ¡°She was hiding in the clock, yes, but how would she kill Theodore? Do you think a mere child could stab a grown man to death? Impossible. But there is a way. You don¡¯t rely on your strength, but instead on your full body weight and gravity. The young Harminia did not stab Theodore while standing. She jumped down from up the grandfather clock where she was hiding, weapon and all.¡±


    The room was wrapped in an eerie silence. Everyone swallowed. No one spoke.


    Victorique watched Harminia as she glanced up at the grandfather clock and fell silent. The maid chuckled.


    ¡°The gold coins were not on the floor initially. Harminia had them. And she scattered them on the floor. The glittering coins fell from the grandfather clock, tracing golden threads in the air, like a golden meteor shower. When they reached Theodore¡¯s upper field of vision, he would have immediately followed them with his eyes. Even if he failed to notice them then, the noise as they hit the floor would have drawn his attention. Theodore walked toward the coins and stopped right in front of the grandfather clock, the perfect spot for Harminia to jump to. She used moving objects to restrict the victim¡¯s line of sight, limiting his movements. Harminia then jumped off the clock onto Theodore while he was looking down at the floor. Her weight pushed the dagger deep into its hilt. Theodore collapsed to the floor with the gold coins, and passed away silently. That explains two of the curious points: the scattered gold coins and the dagger lodged in the victim¡¯s upper back. After killing Theodore, Harminia locked the door and hid inside the grandfather clock once more. She then waited patiently until someone discovered the body. That¡¯s why the study appeared to be empty.¡±


    Victorique¡¯s voice began to tremble. ¡°And then Cordelia came in. She noticed the body and ran away screaming. Harminia then escaped through the open door. A wild guess afterwards led to the conclusion that Cordelia was the culprit. Now then, Sergius.¡±


    Sergius jerked. His face looked as if he had aged years in just a day, perhaps from fatigue. But his eyes were filled with the sharp light of a stubborn old man who would never admit fault.


    ¡°This is your responsibility, Sergius. How will you apologize to Cordelia for banishing her for a crime she did not commit?¡±


    There was a long silence.


    Sergius pointed at Harminia, glaring at her with a mixture of fury and contempt. ¡°I will use all my power as head of this village to punish this woman,¡± he said in a strained voice.


    ¡°No!¡± Harminia cried. ¡°I don¡¯t want to get banished! I don¡¯t want to go outside the village!¡±


    ¡°Cordelia made it safely down the mountain,¡± Ambrose said, restraining the maid. ¡°Brian Roscoe¡¯s out there, too. If you look for him and ask for help, I¡¯m sure¡ª¡±


    ¡°I hate Cordelia! I hate Brian Roscoe! I want to stay!¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s great out there,¡± Ambrose mumbled, then quickly shut his mouth.


    Victorique approached the wailing maid. ¡°Why did you do it? What would drive a six-year-old child to kill a well-respected village chief?¡±


    ¡°Take a guess,¡± Harminia said in a low voice.


    ¡°Because of the future?¡±


    Harminia¡¯s eyes bulged. ¡°How do you know that?!¡±


    ¡°The only connection I can think of between a child and the village chief is the divination during the Midsummer Festival. Some children may resent the village chief for telling them an unfavorable future.¡±


    Kazuya thought back to when Victorique looked dejected. She said she was told she would never grow taller. Back then, he ran into Harminia at the cathedral¡¯s exit, and she mumbled some cryptic words.


    ¡°Your future cannot be changed.¡±


    ¡°There was, however, a time in the past when the future was changed.¡±


    What did she mean by that? Kazuya wondered.


    ¡°It¡¯s just fortune-telling,¡± Victorique said. ¡°You didn¡¯t have to take it seriously. But you had strong faith in the laws of the village and the words of the village chief. You could not doubt the divination.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right¡­ I had to believe in it. But that doesn¡¯t mean I would accept it!¡± Her voice dropped to a murmur. ¡°I asked a question I shouldn¡¯t have asked. A terrifying one, out of childish curiosity.¡±


    ¡°What was it?¡±


    ¡°My death.¡±


    ¡°¡­I see.¡±


    Harminia regarded everyone with tearful eyes. ¡°I was told that twenty years later, when I turned twenty-six years old, I would die. Twenty-six years old? I wanted to live longer. Way longer than that. To change the future, I had to kill Elder Theodore.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it?!¡± Sergius snapped. ¡°You killed our great leader for such a reason?! You wretched child!¡±


    ¡°You would never understand what I felt! The hopelessness, the anger, the sadness!¡±


    They glared at each other. Harminia¡¯s eyes were bulging; it looked like they would pop out of her head at any moment. Sergius¡¯ eyes, on the other hand, were bloodshot, and his fists were shaking with fury.


    Sergius¡¯ face took on a zealous fanatic¡¯s expression. Eyes crossed, he pointed at Harminia with a quivering finger.


    ¡°Ambrose, cut this woman¡¯s head off!¡± he roared in a voice that seemed to come from the bowels of the earth.


    ¡°¡­What?¡± Ambrose¡¯s mouth dropped open.


    ¡°It¡¯s village custom to behead criminals. It has become obsolete since there are no more villagers who commit grave crimes, but when I was your age, I used to be in charge of beheading criminals.¡±


    Inspector Blois, who had been listening in the back, stepped forward. ¡°Mr. Sergius. As I said before, I¡¯ll be taking Derek with me to the station. And the statute of limitations has run out on this girl¡¯s murder case. If you behead her, this young man will be charged with murder by the Sauville Police. And if the villagers give their tacit approval, they will be charged with aiding and abetting.¡±


    ¡°This is not Sauville!¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t just make up a country name and expect me to believe you.¡±


    ¡°Get out!¡±


    Following Sergius¡¯ order, the young men carried Inspector Blois into the hallway. His screams faded in the distance.


    ¡°Kujou, do something!¡± he yelled.


    ¡°Cordelia was only banished because her crime was never fully proven,¡± Sergius said in a voice that seemed to make the walls vibrate. ¡°Harminia, you will be beheaded, your head and body buried separately. You will not return on the eve of the Midsummer Festival. No criminal will appear before their descendants. That¡¯s the law. Ambrose!¡±


    ¡°E-Elder Sergius¡­¡±


    Ambrose was trembling. His beautiful, feminine face was pale as wax.


    Sergius took a large axe from the display shelf and threw it at him. Ambrose caught it absently, then tossed it to the side with a shriek. Fine, white dust rose as the axe fell on the floor.


    Sergius¡¯ glowered at his young assistant with red, bulging eyes. ¡°Do it. If you¡¯re going to be the future village chief, you must never overlook criminals!¡±


    ¡°But she committed the crime when she was only a child. That was twenty years ago. And¡­¡±


    ¡°Ambrose!¡±


    ¡°Sh-She used to play with me a lot when I was a kid. She was difficult to approach, but she was kind. She killed Elder Theodore, but she was nice to me. I won¡¯t do it.¡±


    ¡°We have laws. Harminia will die at twenty-six, just as Elder Theodore foretold.¡±


    Ambrose couldn¡¯t oppose the old man. Slowly he grabbed the axe, his arms shaking. His teeth clattered from terror. Tears welled up in his large, clear eyes and rolled down his pale cheeks like petals. His shoulders shook violently.


    He turned to Kazuya with a pleading look. Kazuya himself was trembling.


    ¡°Dear guest,¡± Ambrose said. ¡°In the outside world, what do you do in this situation?¡±


    ¡°The police will arrest the culprit,¡± Kazuya replied in a shaky voice. ¡°They will conduct an investigation, and¡­ Victorique.¡±


    ¡°A trial will be held,¡± Victorique said.


    ¡°A tri¡­al?¡±


    ¡°Yes. There will be two parties, the prosecution and the defendant Harminia, with each side making their argument. A verdict will then be handed down. Depending on the crime, the defendant may be sentenced to death, incarcerated, or released. There is no death penalty for crimes committed by children.¡±


    Ambrose lowered the axe. He looked heartbroken. But Kazuya saw strong determination in the young man. Lips pursed, he lifted his head forlornly.


    The young assistant regarded the enraged village chief. ¡°I have always respected you, Elder Sergius,¡± he said, his voice quivering. ¡°And I love this village. It¡¯s the village where I was born. You acknowledged me, a young man with no name. But this village is not the whole world. So, um¡­ Harminia, run!¡±


    Ambrose suddenly pushed the youths restraining Harminia. Amid cries of surprise and protests, Harminia moved as if she were a different creature. She leapt and grabbed the spear from the display shelf.


    Harminia turned around, eyes bulging. Her pale lips parted, and she mumbled something.


    She then spun and took off at full speed.

 Volume 2 - CH 6.3

    Ambrose stood still for a while, stunned at what he had done. A group of petite, glassy-eyed youths surrounded the young assistant and berated him. He looked like Snow White surrounded by seven dwarfs. A moment later the youths dashed out into the hallway, leaving Ambrose, their leader, behind. One after another, they called Harminia¡¯s name.


    Sergius cursed and raised a quivering fist at Ambrose. ¡°Foolish successor of mine. Go after her at once. And behead her. That is the only way I will pardon you.¡±


    ¡°I will never kill anyone, even under your orders,¡± Ambrose replied shakily.


    ¡°You don¡¯t understand a thing. The woman you let escape will bring misfortune to the village. In fact, she¡¯s already doing it. Go, now! And kill Harminia! All you have to do is follow my orders. Disobeying them is foolish. Keep that in mind.¡±


    Ambrose hung his head low like he always did, but he no longer nodded weakly. Shaking his head, he quietly turned to leave the room.


    Suddenly, shouts from the youths came from down the hallway.


    Kazuya and Ambrose exchanged looks, and bolted out of the room.


    Something red and thick, like the tongue of some large animal, was squirming toward them.


    Fire.


    The thick, blue velvet curtains hanging over the hallway windows burst into flames and fell to the floor, writhing like a creature in its final agonizing moments. The fire spread to the gray carpet, growing fiercer.


    ¡°Fire!¡± yelled one of the youths as they came scuttling back.


    ¡°Harminia started a fire!¡± another added.


    Kazuya squinted. Beyond the swirling flames was a woman holding up a torch in one hand, standing still like a broken doll. Harminia. Her eyeballs were bulging, and her head, cocked at an angle, looked like it would fall off at any moment.


    The group of young men ran toward the other end of the corridor.


    ¡°Out the back door! The fire hasn¡¯t reached the back yet!¡±


    Kazuya snapped back to his senses and ran back to the study. Hearing the young men¡¯s screams, Mildred and Inspector Blois hurried out of the room. Kazuya weaved past them, found Victorique standing alone in the middle of the room, and pulled her by the hand.


    ¡°Victorique, there¡¯s a fire! Hurry!¡±


    Ambrose leapt in behind him. He rushed to Sergius and snatched the old man¡¯s cane. He then carried the old man on his back and followed Kazuya and Victorique out the study.


    The white smoke filling the hallways stung Kazuya¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°Close your eyes!¡± he told Victorique, and ran, enduring the stinging sensation.


    He glanced over to his side. Victorique was running as fast as she could with her eyes tightly closed. She was slow. Ambrose, who was carrying Sergius on his back, overtook her. Still, she ran straight without fear, despite only having Kazuya¡¯s hand to guide her. Her grip on his hand tightened.


    The two stumbled out the shabby back door. Coughing from the smoke, Kazuya looked up at the manor.


    The manor was on fire. Crackling flames soared higher and higher into the dark sky. The manor that looked like a gigantic Gray wWolf when Kazuya first saw it remained motionless as flames engulfed it.


    ¡°Harminia!¡± Sergius snarled. He was kneeling on the hard dirt, his face reddish-black with rage, looking up at the night sky. There was an aura of deep resentment around him. Ambrose seemed to have left, leaving the old man alone. ¡°Harminia! Killing Elder Theodore wasn¡¯t enough for you, and now you¡¯ve even set the village on fire!¡±


    Victorique, her eyes now open, gasped. Kazuya followed her gaze and saw the Nameless Village in flames.


    Everything¡ªroofs, trees¡ªwas aflame. The blazing inferno dyed the stone walls an ominous red. Houses seemed as if they were wearing hats of fire, their straw-thatched roofs sputtering flames that rose into the night sky. The whole village looked like a giant, glittering chandelier, shimmering red.


    Villagers gathered in the square, drawing water from the well and pouring it over the flames.


    Ambrose was nowhere to be seen.


    From the far end of the square came the shouts of young men. They were saying something. Soon, Ambrose appeared from the circle and came running toward Kazuya. His long, golden hair was loose, hanging down softly on his shoulders. When he spotted Kazuya, he yelled, ¡°It¡¯s Harminia!¡± His face was twisted in horror.


    Kazuya and Victorique started running, through the square and down the cobblestone streets, weaving through the flames, until they reached the entrance to the village.


    Ambrose¡¯s trembling finger pointed to the drawbridge, the only path connecting the village to the outside world.


    The drawbridge had been lowered.


    Ambrose then directed their attention to the top of the stone turret, where the young men of the village kept a lookout, lowering the drawbridge when guests arrived.


    While the rest of the village was ablaze, only the turret stood wrapped in jet-black darkness.


    Someone was hiding at the top.


    Dark blue, old-fashioned clothes. Golden hair in thin braids. Bulging, dark-green eyes.


    It was Harminia. Slowly, she glanced down at the group. Her eyes opened wide.


    She raised the blazing torch in her hand. Flames hissed. Harminia stood there, a spear on her other hand, looking like an ancient warrior.


    A moment later, she laughed.


    Her eyes were bulging, and her mouth looked as though it would split open. It was the first time Kazuya had ever seen her laugh.


    Harminia crouched down, and the next instant, her body stretched to the point where it looked twice as long. In one graceful motion, she leapt off the turret toward them and landed on the ground. She watched the group. It was difficult to tell where her wide eyes were looking.


    Kazuya moved in front of Victorique.


    ¡°You ruined everything,¡± Harminia growled, readying her spear.


    Trembling, Kazuya shielded Victorique. Ambrose¡¯s eyes darted between Harminia and the young boy.


    Kazuya shot Harminia a glare. ¡°No one ruined anything. Victorique was only clearing her mother¡¯s name! Because of you, an innocent person was branded a criminal for twenty whole years.¡±


    ¡°She ruined everything for me,¡± Harminia repeated. She cocked her head and looked at Victorique with a smile, a smile that vanished in an instant, sucked into the void. ¡°Daughter of Cordelia. You will stay there until you die!¡±


    Kazuya gasped and covered Victorique from Harminia. But the maid did not attack.


    She turned around and ran across the drawbridge. Her figure receded quickly into the distance. Kazuya could clearly see the soles of her shoes. Black leather shoes, black soles. An ominous color.


    Realizing what she was about to do, Ambrose shouted, ¡°Harminia, no!¡±


    ¡°Now you can¡¯t follow me!¡±


    ¡°Harminia!¡±


    After crossing the bridge, she turned back to the group, lowering her torch.


    Villagers gathered around. Harminia alone was standing on the other side of the drawbridge. Villagers and their guests stood frozen in place.


    ¡°Harminia¡¯s planning to burn the bridge!¡± Ambrose exclaimed.


    Kazuya¡¯s breath caught.


    Harminia tossed the torch toward the middle of the bridge. The flames danced, and slowly started spreading.


    Sergius arrived, supported by the villagers. Ambrose spun and was about to say something, but Sergius cut him off.


    ¡°Ambrose, your hair is untied.¡±


    ¡°What¡­?¡± Ambrose was stupefied.


    ¡°I always tell you to tie it up properly,¡± the old man said vexedly. ¡°Now fix your hair.¡±


    ¡°But the bridge!¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t need it. All we need is this village. Going outside is unnecessary.¡±


    Ambrose let out a groan. He no longer hung his head low like he always did when Sergius scolded him. He simply stared straight back at the village chief.


    The bridge, just wide enough for one carriage, was about to burst into flames. The thick ropes at both sides were ablaze, and the bridge was beginning to bounce slightly up and down. The wooden planks were slowly turning black.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go, Victorique!¡± Kazuya said. ¡°We gotta get across!¡± He pulled on her hand.


    Victorique glanced up at him, terrified. ¡°But¡­¡±


    ¡°If the bridge falls, we won¡¯t be able to get back!¡±


    ¡°But she¡¯s waiting on the other side.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re scared, just close your eyes. Understand?¡±


    Without waiting for an answer, Kazuya started running. Victorique followed quietly behind. He looked over his shoulder and saw her squeezing her eyes shut, just as she had done earlier while running down the hallway of the manor. The adorable frown on her face gave Kazuya relief.


    ¡°Inspector!¡± he shouted behind him. ¡°You too, Mildred!¡±


    Both their faces were pale from fear.


    Trembling, the guests raced across the burning bridge.

 Volume 2 - CH 6.4

    The bridge was shaking. And burning.


    Kazuya glanced down.


    He couldn¡¯t see the bottom of the night-shrouded abyss; he only knew that it was dark and deep. The roar of a muddy stream echoed far below.


    Everyone else was trembling with terror, while Kazuya alone remained calm as he crossed the bridge. He looked over his shoulder and saw the fear-stricken faces of Inspector Blois and Mildred. Kazuya found it puzzling at first, but then it hit him.


    I get it now! I¡¯ve grown accustomed to this, because I frequently climbed the stairs up the library. I was scared at first, too, until I got used to it.


    As they made it halfway through the bridge, a roar sounded from up ahead. Victorique shuddered and clung to Kazuya, who sensed her small body trembling from within layers of frills. He held her close to shield her.


    He lifted his head, and saw the sharp tip of a metal coming from the front.


    It was Harminia, brandishing her spear. She was charging straight at them, wailing. The drawbridge, on the verge of burning down, shook violently with the maid¡¯s movement.


    Harminia was going straight for Kazuya¡­ no, for Victorique.


    The inspector, Derek, and Mildred slipped past them.


    The tip of the spear was an ominous black. At the other end of the weapon was Harminia, laughing like a madman. Her head wobbled from side to side; it looked like it could fall to the bottom of the ravine at any second. Kazuya backed away, still shielding Victorique behind him. The burning bridge swayed precariously. Flames raging on the ropes licked Kazuya¡¯s cheek.


    The tip of the spear grazed Kazuya¡¯s right arm. It was hot. He glanced at his arm and saw that his thin, long sleeve had been cut. Blood was seeping out from the wound. He looked over his shoulder. Victorique¡¯s eyes were shut tight.


    Kazuya suddenly realized how scary it was to run with your eyes closed. He had told her to close her eyes and follow him, but without being able to see what was going on around her, it was terrifying to even walk, let alone run.


    But she did as she was told, closed her eyes, gripped Kazuya¡¯s hand, and followed him.


    Did she perhaps have faith in his ability?


    If so, it was a first for Kazuya. No one but Victorique had put their trust on him like this before. His father and older brothers had high expectations of him, and his mother and older sisters adored him, but no one had ever believed in his abilities and entrusted him with something important.


    I have to keep Victorique safe no matter what.


    Harminia swung her spear, and Kazuya dodged each time, all the while protecting Victorique.


    Sergius¡¯ ominous voice played in his mind.


    What was the fortune again?


    ¡°Years from now¡­ a gale strong enough to shake the world will blow.¡±


    ¡°The gale will separate you.¡±


    ¡°No matter how strong your feelings are, you are no match for the wind.¡±


    ¡°Your hearts will never be apart.¡±


    Kazuya swallowed.


    It¡¯s just fortune-telling. It won¡¯t come true. There¡¯s no way someone who¡¯s lived in this medieval village their whole life would know anything about a wind that could shake the whole world. But what if¡­


    He held Harminia¡¯s gaze.


    If he¡¯s right, then it¡¯s not yet time for me and Victorique to part. We¡¯re going home safe and sound. Back to St. Marguerite Academy. To our home.


    The spear lunged at them both. Kazuya pushed Victorique aside and took a few steps back, and the spear slipped right in the middle of the two. Realizing that they had been separated, Kazuya¡¯s breath seized. Harminia noticed it as well.


    Harminia grinned. Her eyes were bloodshot. ¡°I¡¯ll start with you¡­ You¡¯re dying first!¡± She raised the spear toward Kazuya.


    The bridge blazed.


    Anticipating Kazuya¡¯s escape, Harminia thrust the spear as hard as she could toward Kazuya¡¯s left side, a safer spot with weaker flames.


    Kazuya, however, moved in the opposite direction¡ªto the right. He had left Victorique alone on that side. Harminia looked at Kazuya curiously. Her face seemed to ask, ¡°What are you doing over there?¡±


    Harminia lost her balance. Her spear had struck an empty space. She had put too much force in her strike with the intention of killing Kazuya. She stumbled and fell from the bridge, down into the abyss.


    An unforgettable, chilling cry faded into the darkness below, swallowed up by the void.


    It was too dark to see, but Kazuya knew that down there was the bottom of the ravine, where a muddy river streamed past. His hair stood on end.


    Snap.


    The bridge was starting to fall. Walls of flame roared on both sides, leaving only a small path in the middle to pass through.


    Kazuya snapped back to his senses and started running, pulling Victorique¡¯s hand.


    With about ten steps remaining, Kazuya held Victorique close and pushed through. Only one more step.


    He felt relieved. He managed to take Victorique to safety. With his own power.


    Suddenly, Kazuya¡¯s body lurched. At first, he thought it was because of relief. But no¡ªthe bridge had tilted.


    The bridge finally collapsed, bright, orange embers drifting down into the abyss.


    One last step.


    Victorique was the first to reach solid ground. Kazuya followed after.


    But his body reeled along with the bridge. Victorique spun and let out a yelp. Her face disappeared from his field of vision, and the night sky¡ªa sky full of stars¡ªfilled his view.


    It was beautiful.


    The next instant, his body started falling.


    Down the ravine.


    The stars quickly receded. Kazuya saw the cliff, Victorique shouting from the top, Inspector Blois peering down at Kazuya in shock, Mildred and Ambrose screaming. On the other side, there was a beautiful, but ancient village frozen in time, with a cathedral and stone arches built during the Middle Ages. Flames were smoldering still.


    Kazuya saw the pendant¡ªa gold coin on a chain¡ªthat Victorique had shown him at the inn, hanging down her neck. It peeked out of the layers of frills, coming toward him.


    As he fell, that one moment seemed to stretch for a long, long time. He observed Victorique¡¯s pendant rather calmly. Wait, what¡¯s Ambrose doing on that side? He tried to voice his question, but he couldn¡¯t get the words out. His body shifted, and he started plummeting into the darkness.


    Everything seemed to be moving away from him.


    He suddenly missed his family.


    Memories flashed through his mind¡ªthe color of the sky in his hometown, the raging sea when he crossed the ocean by ship, the first time he entered his dorm room at St. Marguerite Academy. And that spring day when Ms. Cecile asked him to climb up the labyrinthine stairs of the Grand Library for the first time.


    For a moment, a mixture of frustration, pride, and regret gnawed at him.


    His mind cast back to the country of his birth.


    Why he left¡­


    Dad, my brothers¡­ I¡¯m sorry.


    I couldn¡¯t be the son and brother you wanted me to be. So I ran away. I didn¡¯t really come to this country to study. I just couldn¡¯t stay at home. When I was around you guys, I felt so pathetic. I just didn¡¯t want to feel worthless any more. Sorry. It¡¯s not that I hate you. In fact, I have so much respect for you guys.


    Inside Kazuya¡¯s heart was a set of labyrinthine stairs, where he wandered around, lost.


    I don¡¯t know what to do. I¡¯ve come to hate myself. I was lost and in pain, so I ran away. I¡¯m an utterly worthless man. Victorique was right. I¡¯m a mediocre egghead. Just an average man. Insignificant. So even if I die here¡­

 Volume 2 - CH 6.5

    A golden butterfly crossed his vision. A small butterfly with translucent wings. He had seen one in the past.


    Tears welled up in Kazuya¡¯s eyes.


    It¡¯s okay if I die¡­ I¡¯m worthless anyway¡­


    The golden butterfly¡­


    Saving Victorique from harm is a commendable thing¡­


    The faces of Victorique, Mildred, Ambrose, and Inspector Blois receded slowly.


    But there was one thing that stayed. Victorique¡¯s precious pendant. Instead of moving away, it was getting closer and closer. Away from Victorique¡¯s chest. Kazuya realized then that the pendant¡¯s old chain had snapped, and it was falling with him down the ravine.


    Victorique¡¯s treasured pendant. She stretched her hand out, shouting something. She was reaching for the pendant.


    Don¡¯t you fall with me, too¡­ It¡¯s fine if I go down alone. You have to be careful!


    His body swayed.


    Kazuya¡¯s mind went blank. He had no idea what was happening. He felt as if someone had shaken him awake, pulling him back to reality.


    His vision tumbled. There was a dark and solid cliff before his eyes.


    ¡°Kujou!¡± someone called from above.


    Kazuya looked up and saw Victorique. She had a strained look to her face, as though she was exerting all her strength onto something. Her rosy cheeks were turning red in agony. What¡¯s she doing up there? he wondered. She¡¯s so small.


    He glanced at his hand and realized that she was pulling him up.


    Kazuya was suspended over the cliff, and Victorique, crouched down on the ground, was gripping his hand tight.


    In front of him was the cliff, from which he caught the faint smell of dirt.


    The rushing of water came from far below, the sound of the muddy stream raging past.


    Victorique was clenching her teeth.


    Kazuya looked at her hands. Even when she was weak, she was desperately trying to pull him up with her tiny hands. She could hardly lift a small chair by herself.


    ¡°Victorique, you dropped your precious pendant.¡±


    She did not answer. Kazuya realized that the reason Victorique had reached out was not to catch the pendant, but to grab his hand.


    He stared at her hands. The back of her small hands had become pale, turning purple. Clenching her pearly white teeth, she shouted.


    ¡°What are you doing, Kujou?! Climb up, you dolt!¡±


    ¡°But I¡¯m¡­¡±


    ¡°Stop talking and start climbing. You stupid, mediocre, lousy, foul, tone-deaf reaper!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯m foul¡­¡±


    ¡°Move!¡±


    Kazuya regarded Victorique very curiously. He wondered why she was trying so hard. Then it came to him.


    ¡°Victorique¡­¡±


    ¡°What?!¡±


    ¡°Your hands hurt, don¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°No.


    ¡°You¡¯re lying.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t hurt.¡±


    ¡°But¡ª¡±


    ¡°I said: it doesn¡¯t hurt!¡±


    Kazuya studied her face.


    Ah! There¡¯s no way it doesn¡¯t hurt. She¡¯s sensitive to pain. She¡¯s lying. It¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve seen her lying. What a weird face.


    Her cheeks were more puffed out than usual, and her emerald green eyes were moist.


    ¡°Hurry up, Kujou! What are you smiling at?! I said move it!¡¯


    Kazuya snapped back to his senses. Victorique¡¯s tiny feet were slowly nearing the edge. If she kept this up, she would fall with him, but she never let go of his hand.


    ¡°I told you the other day. We¡¯re going home together.¡±


    ¡°¡­You did.¡±


    ¡°Hurry up, you stupid, foul, tone-deaf reaper!¡±


    ¡°Sorry. You¡¯re right, Victorique.¡±


    ¡°Right about what?!¡± she snapped.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Kazuya said quietly.


    ¡°You moroooon!¡±


    Kazuya chuckled in response.


    He grabbed a tree root sticking out of the ground. With a lot of effort, he managed to pull himself up a little bit.


    Slowly and steadily, he moved upwards. He could hear Victorique¡¯s small breaths. The crackling of the flames in the distance, too. Finally, he made it above ground.


    He took a breath. He was so exhausted, he just wanted to fall asleep.


    Kazuya took a deep breath. As he exhaled, the sorrow that had overtaken him moments ago seemed to leave his body.


    He kneeled down and breathed in and out. He lifted his head and looked at Victorique, who was hunched over beside him.


    She was sitting on the ground with her small hands open. She studied her palms curiously.


    Kazuya also peered into her palms. Her hands were red and swollen as if burned. Never having held anything heavy, her skin was very fragile.


    ¡°Victorique.¡±


    When she noticed Kazuya¡¯s gaze, she quickly put her hands behind her back. She observed the bleeding wound on Kazuya¡¯s arm inquisitively.


    ¡°Uhm¡­ I¡­¡±


    Victorique snorted, then turned her back to Kazuya. ¡°You thought it would be fine if you fell, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­¡±


    She was furious. Kazuya scratched his head. He didn¡¯t know what to say.


    ¡°You¡¯re not allowed to fall.¡±


    ¡°¡­Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Idiot,¡± Victorique mumbled in a barely audible voice.


    By the time the curtain of night fell, the flames roaring in the village had died out. A short time later, a carriage arrived from Horovitz to pick them up. It was dark, and the old man seemed unaware of the strange events that had befallen the nameless village. He eyed everyone¡ªKazuya, Victorique, Inspector Blois, Derek, Mildred, and Ambrose.


    ¡°I was supposed to pick up six passengers,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m not sure it¡¯s the right faces, though.¡±


    Before he climbed into the carriage, Ambrose looked back at the basin where the village was located. Wrapped in the darkness of night, the valley seemed uninhabited. Like a stubborn old man, it was just there, unmoving.


    ¡°I was watching the bridge burn, and I found myself running across it,¡± he muttered to no one in particular. ¡°I¡¯ve always wanted to cross that bridge. Ever since Brian Roscoe told me about the outside world, when I learned that there was more to the world than just our nameless village. I was the only one who couldn¡¯t see it as my resting place.¡±


    Ambrose climbed into the carriage with confidence. He reached for the linen string tying his hair, unraveled it, and tossed it out the window. His elegant, golden hair billowed and fell in front of his handsome, feminine face.


    ¡°It¡¯s nice outside,¡± Victorique mumbled.


    Kazuya swallowed, and gently squeezed her hand.


    Feigning ignorance, Inspector Blois glanced over at his half-sister. ¡°After all this mess, you might never step outside again.¡±


    ¡°Still, I¡¯m happy.¡±


    Kazuya was taken aback. This was the first time these strangely-distant siblings had ever had anything resembling a proper conversation, albeit a rather sinister one.


    ¡°I have proved Cordelia¡¯s innocence,¡± Victorique said. ¡°A daughter must defend her mother¡¯s honor.¡±


    Inspector Blois snorted. ¡°Even if Cordelia Gallo was wrongfully banished from her village, it doesn¡¯t change the fact that that woman was responsible for a lot of things in the last Great War. It also won¡¯t change the fact that her daughter will never be granted freedom.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re just parroting father¡¯s words, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Inspector Blois grunted and glowered at his little half-sister. Victorique returned his gaze quietly, without a hint of fear.


    There was silence.


    The carriage began descending the steep road, rocking as violently as it did on their way to the village.


    ¡°What¡¯s gonna happen to that village now?¡± Kazuya said to no one in particular.


    ¡°Who knows?¡± Ambrose, sitting across him, answered. ¡°I¡¯m sure it will take a while to build another drawbridge. But they will probably continue living the same lifestyle.¡± His face was pale and haggard.


    ¡°What about you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve always longed to see the outside world. I don¡¯t know what will happen from here on out, but I want to live outside.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s so good about the outside?¡± Derek interjected bitterly in his high-pitched voice. ¡°You people don¡¯t understand the value of those antiques. It¡¯s unfortunate that a lot of them turned to ashes.¡±


    Mildred sighed. ¡°Right. That means money going up in flames. Ah, how my heart aches¡­¡±


    Inspector Blois poked Derek in the head. ¡°Derek, you were about to be judged by the laws of that village. A brutal punishment was clearly waiting for you, worse than what Sauville¡¯s laws could hand down. Did you see the axe? Imagine getting beheaded by that blunt, rusty thing. Doesn¡¯t it make you shudder? I¡¯d bet you wouldn¡¯t get decapitated right away. You¡¯d suffer for a while, the executioner swinging the axe over and over, until you¡¯re finally dead.¡± He fell silent, as though horrified by his own words.


    Silence reigned in the carriage for a while.


    The horses¡¯ hooves clopped rhythmically down the road. The carriage rocked wildly.


    Inspector Blois broke the silence. ¡°What did he mean by the Kingdom of Saillune anyway?¡±


    ¡°Saillune?¡± Victorique asked.

 Volume 2 - CH 6.6

    The inspector turned to Kazuya. He didn¡¯t want to talk to his sister any longer. Like he always did, he started talking to Kazuya instead.


    ¡°While I was arguing with the village chief about how to deal with Derek, he said something strange. ¡®This is not the Kingdom of Sauville. This is not a village.¡¯ And then he proudly declared, ¡±This is the Kingdom of Saillune, and I am the king.''¡±


    The inspector shrugged. ¡°Just because you live deep in the mountains, you can¡¯t just call your village a nation and give it a name. This land is within Sauville territory. What a bunch of weirdos.¡± Noticing Ambrose¡¯s gaze, he added, ¡°My apologies.¡±


    Victorique breathed a deep sigh. ¡°I see. I get it now.¡±


    All eyes turned to her. Wearily, she brushed her long, golden hair, then narrowed her eyes a little and glanced at Kazuya, who was sitting next to her.


    ¡°Kujou, do you remember what I told you about the special race of people?¡±


    ¡°Ah, yeah.¡± Kazuya nodded. ¡°You mentioned Greek gods, Norse giants, and Chinese heavenly beings¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes. While I was reading those books, I learned that there are many historical accounts¡ªmostly ancient¡ªthat talk about god-like people.¡± She sighed. ¡°Long ago, there were forest folks that ruled the lands of Eastern Europe. Legends about them still remain to this day. The Baltic Sea coast was exposed to countless invaders, but the forest people always came out victorious. They had neither height nor physical strength, but their extraordinary intelligence allowed them to defeat the foreign invaders. They defeated the Khazars in the ninth century, the Pechenegs in the tenth to eleventh centuries, and the Polovets in the twelfth century. In the thirteenth century, they also defeated the Mongols. Many of their enemies were large horsemen who attacked from the plains. They enjoyed a period of prosperity, but after the fifteenth century, they disappeared without a trace. Not because of war. One day, they suddenly vanished from history. Where did they go?¡±


    The carriage was quiet.


    ¡°They were called the Saillune people.¡±


    ¡°Ah!¡± Ambrose gasped. ¡°I don¡¯t know much about history, but in our village, kids are taught that we¡¯re the people of Saillune. That the village was in fact, a kingdom, and we were not in Sauville. But we¡¯re not allowed to mention it. We were forbidden to speak the name either, because we¡¯d be persecuted and burned to death.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, they were a persecuted people.¡± Victorique said, nodding. ¡°What comes to mind when you think of the fifteenth century? It was the time of the Inquisition and witch hunts. The petite, clever, and enigmatic Saillune people were caught in the wave and labeled heretics. Shortly after, they could no longer sustain their small kingdom on the Baltic Sea coast. They were driven out, not by war, but by persecution. Legends of the Gray Wolves spread rapidly in Sauville after the fifteenth century. Legends about silent, talking wolves dwelling deep in the forests, and smart kids being called spawns of Gray Wolves. I believe the legends were born from the fact that the Saillune people fled deep into the mountains of Sauville and lived there in seclusion. The reason why they were called Gray Wolves may be because of the wolves that used to live in abundance in the forests of Eastern Europe, their former home. However, after fleeing to Sauville, their settlement was burned to the ground whenever they were found, forcing them to move further into the forest. Eventually, their numbers dwindled, and only tradition and an old village remained. I believe that is the true nature of that village.¡±


    ¡°Do you guys remember the festival?¡± Victorique continued in a low voice. ¡°The battle between the Summer Army and the Winter Army. It was a ritual to pray for a good harvest, and there are similar customs all over Europe. But why did only the Winter Army ride horses? I offer a hypothesis. It may be because throughout their history, all their enemies rode in horsebacks. The ritual was intended to drive both winter and the large horsemen, who attacked season after season, back from the fertile forests to the dry plains.¡±


    The carriage rumbled down the mountain, rocking hard. Victorique¡¯s face brightened and dimmed repeatedly under the lamplight. No one said anything.


    ¡°Either way, that was a long time ago,¡± Victorique said in her husky voice. ¡°We are living in the present moment. In the now.¡±


    The carriage shook, presumably from running over a rock or a large root. The lamp briefly illuminated Ambrose¡¯s face.


    ¡°The present?¡± he muttered.


    Victorique nodded.


    ¡°I see¡­ In that case, I can live on.¡±


    He seemed to smile faintly, but it was too dark to see.


    Mildred yawned loudly. ¡°All this difficult stuff is beyond me. As long as you¡¯re healthy and have money, you¡¯re good. What I would give for a lot more money, though!¡±


    Ambrose chuckled. Kazuya smiled as well. Mildred yawned again and closed her eyes wearily.


    The carriage continued lumbering down the mountain, the horses¡¯ hooves clopping on the winding road.


    Victorique gave a small yawn.


    ¡°Tired? Do you wanna sleep?¡±


    She nodded silently, then whispered, ¡°Sing for me, Kujou.¡±


    ¡°Me? Sing?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Why? Fine¡­¡± Kazuya sighed.


    Then, in a hushed tone, he began humming his signature nursery rhyme. As he sang, he thought he heard Victorique laugh.


    ¡°Wh-What?¡± he asked.


    ¡°You suck.¡±


    ¡°Back at you.¡±


    Victorique continued chuckling.


    The carriage still had a long way to go.


    It was deep into the night when they finally arrived at the town at the foot of the mountain. The group decided to stay at the only inn available and leave the next morning. When the innkeeper saw Ambrose¡¯s golden hair, feminine features, and medieval attire, he looked horrified.


    ¡°A Gray Wolf¡­!¡±


    But the fear from his face gradually faded as Ambrose, not caring about his remark, bombarded him with questions¡ªquestions about running an inn, how the phone worked, the dead bird hanging on the front door. In fact, he got fed up with the young man.


    ¡°Stop asking me questions! What are you, five?!¡± He then stormed off somewhere.


    It was a beautiful day the next morning. They boarded a train down the mountain, then switched to a different train, before finally arriving back at their village, where St. Marguerite Academy was located, around noon.


    Mildred had put on her stuffy habit over her summer dress and headed back to the church. ¡°Ah, back to a boring life,¡± she had grumbled. But when she closed her mouth, her crimson, curly hair tucked inside her robe, her face tightened slightly, she looked just like a normal nun. She left with loud footsteps.


    Inspector Blois hailed a carriage and took Derek to the police station.


    ¡°Return to the academy for now,¡± he said, looking out the window. ¡°I will contact the academy for further instructions.¡±


    His grim tone made Kazuya uneasy, but right now he had no idea what was going to happen in the future.


    The carriage carrying Inspector Blois and Derek lumbered away. Mildred was no longer in sight.


    Everyone returned to the place where they belonged.


    The journey had ended.


    As they walked out of the station onto the village¡¯s main street, a pleasant, early summer breeze blew. Many people milled about on the main street. The stores lining the street were busy, customers coming and going frequently.


    A horse-drawn carriage passed by, and on the other side, a state-of-the-art automobile zipped past, rattling.


    Ambrose observed the streets curiously. ¡°So this is the present¡­¡± He started walking somewhere, his face a mixture of anxiety and delight. Kazuya and Victorique watched him go.


    A gentle breeze whistled, carrying the sweet smell of fruit and warm earth from the vineyards. In the distant train station came the whistling of the oncoming train.


    Everything was as it was supposed to be.


    Ambrose came running back, suddenly remembering something. He grabbed Kazuya and whispered in his ear.


    ¡°I almost forgot to tell you something about the divination,¡± the young man said.


    ¡°You mean the one at the festival?¡±


    ¡°Yes. You and your friend¡­¡±


    ¡°Me and Victorique?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Ambrose shook his head. ¡°Why did you two ask the same question?¡±


    ¡°The same¡­ question?¡± Kazuya looked puzzled.


    Back then, Victorique came out of the cathedral, looking upset, tears in her eyes.


    He thought she must have been told something very shocking. She said she asked if she would grow taller.


    Same question? I didn¡¯t ask about my height.


    Kazuya ruminated on it for a while. When he finally realized the truth, his breath caught.


    It¡¯s the other way around! Victorique asked the same thing I did. It wasn¡¯t about her height at all¡­


    She asked if she and Kazuya Kujou would be together forever.


    And the answer she received was the same as Kazuya¡¯s.


    That¡¯s why she was on the verge of tears.


    ¡°I just thought that if you two had asked different questions, I¡¯d hear two different futures. But I guess she really wanted to know.¡± With that, he wandered off casually.


    Kazuya returned to stand next to Victorique. As he stared at her face, Victorique grimaced.


    ¡°What are you looking at?¡±


    ¡°N-Nothing.¡±


    ¡°Then stop staring at me.


    ¡°Why, I oughta¡­¡±


    His forgotten rage resurfaced.


    Victorique really pissed him off. She was smart, had a sharp tongue, and was such a handful. He strongly believed that there was something wrong with her, not him. She always made fun of him, worked him like a slave, and then treated him like a nuisance. And then¡­


    And then¡­


    I¡¯m glad we made it back safely.


    Kazuya watched Ambrose receding into the distance.


    When he first met the young man in the nameless village, he looked like the typical resident, with his old-fashioned clothes and polite attitude. Only the sparkle in his eyes betrayed his spirited side. But now, as Ambrose walked down the modern main street, his hands in his pockets, whistling and walking slowly, he quickly integrated with the surroundings, becoming part of the scene on the main street. His clothes, too, looked less strange, now, as his demeanor changed. A village girl passing Ambrose turned and stared at him intently in admiration. When he noticed, he gave a cordial nod, a little embarrassed.


    He had adapted very quickly.


    A warm breeze blew, and his long, silky blonde hair hanging behind him stirred. When the wind died down, Ambrose was already gone. He must have taken a turn somewhere.


    ¡°What¡¯s he gonna do now?¡± Kazuya murmured worriedly.


    Victorique was silent for a while. Her eyes were filled with a curious light¡ªa yearning of some sorts. She seemed to envy Ambrose¡¯s freedom, but she did not say anything. She only answered Kazuya¡¯s question curtly.


    ¡°He will live on. Just like Cordelia Gallo.¡±


    And thus, their journey came to an end.

 Volume 3 - CH 1.1

    Prologue: Through the Looking Glass


    Nighttime.


    Stars twinkled in the dark canvas high above.


    A palace built of glass and jet-black iron, a huge train station, and blackened brick buildings stood like structures in a detailed miniature city, gleaming under the moonlight.


    In a corner of the city, a girl stood alone.


    Her long sand-colored hair hung down her back, and her eyes, like jewels, shone a deep purple. An intense beam of light that seemed to cut through the night was pouring in front of her.


    A slender mannequin, illuminated by the blinding light, was looking down at the girl from behind a thin glass partition.


    The girl was wearing a worn-out, out-of-fashion dress and leather shoes with holes in them. Once fine pieces of clothing, they had long exceeded their useful life.


    The mannequin was wearing a sparkling dress, a hat, and a bag embroidered with beads.


    The girl let out a soft breath. My¡­ how lovely!


    The mannequin opened its mouth. ¡°Lovely?¡±


    Surprised, the girl looked at the mannequin¡¯s mouth. It was smiling. ¡°Come,¡± it said. ¡°I¡¯ll let you wear them.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡±


    ¡°Just enter the fitting room and try them on inside. You don¡¯t have to pay anything.¡±


    ¡°¡­Really?¡±


    The mannequin smiled. ¡°Really.¡±


    The girl entered the building. Surrounded by gorgeous products, she was handed a dress. She tottered onward. The door to the fitting room slowly opened. Clutching the dress, the girl ambled on, as though sleepwalking.


    She entered the fitting room.


    The door slowly closed behind her.


    The girl continued walking.


    Her sand-colored hair swayed.


    A mirror inside the fitting room reflected the girl¡¯s shabby dress. The girl continued walking. The mirror rippled like water, engulfing the girl.


    A salestaff in a purple uniform opened the door to the fitting room.


    The inside was empty. There was only a dress.


    The staff picked up the dress and smiled thinly.


    Nighttime.


    Outside the building, stars twinkled in the dark canvas high above.


    Chapter 1: Magic Ring


    Summer was fast approaching.


    It was late in the afternoon, but the sun was still bright and intense. Horse-drawn wagons rolled along the village street, kicking up dust, and leaving behind the sweet smell of straw that heralded the coming of summer.


    Kazuya Kujou, walking at a brisk pace along the village road back to St. Marguerite Academy, suddenly stopped when he noticed the smell. He turned around, squinting.


    The big old wagon shook wildly from side to side as it moved farther and farther away on the bumpy road. With each rocking motion, little bundles of straw fell. On either side of the village road were rolling vineyards, their bright green vines swaying in the wind.


    Kazuya Kujou resumed walking, this time with leisurely steps. He didn¡¯t have to walk so fast. There was still plenty of time before curfew, when the main gate of the academy would be closed.


    He was a small, rather slim boy. His short black hair had grown a little longer and hung halfway over his jet-black eyes. Wearing a schoolcap on his head, he was dressed in the uniform of St. Marguerite Academy, a prestigious school with a vast campus at the foot of the mountains.


    On his hand was a brown unsealed parcel.


    Kazuya ambled along, running his eyes on a letter. His face gradually turned grim.


    Dear Kazuya,


    How are you? It¡¯s your sister! Get this. Father is so mean. And your brothers as well. How are they mean, you ask?


    Kazuya leafed through the pages.


    His sister¡¯s explanation covered about ten pages. He had reached the end of the village road and could see the main gate of the academy in the distance now.


    Rattle. Rattle.


    Kazuya jumped. Distracted by the letter, his cheek was almost grazed by a wagon that passed by.


    The letter was from his two-year-older sister. She might seem like a fragile woman, akin to a delicate flower dancing in the wind, but deep inside she was bold and determined. She was quiet, but she could say what she wanted to say clearly, which sometimes led to fights with their stubborn father and older brothers. Kazuya often wondered if his father¡¯s rigid nature went to her instead of him.


    His older sister was graduating from an all-girls¡¯ school this year and had decided to become a teacher at her current school instead of marrying a square-jawed, imperial soldier who was ten years older than her as their father had suggested. She had been arguing with her father and brothers about the matter day in and day out.


    I wish you were here to take my side, Kazuya.


    When he read those words on the eleventh page, he felt, from the bottom of his heart, that he was glad to be in Sauville right now. As the youngest, Kazuya was too soft to argue with his father and brothers, and his mother had always been quick to take the favorable side with a smile. She was a kind and graceful woman, his mother, but surprisingly, not at all reliable.


    Kazuya was nearing the gate of St. Marguerite Academy. Its high iron fence, worked with an intricate, abaresque-like design, bore golden ornaments here and there.


    Reading the letter, he passed through the gate and onto the campus grounds. Suddenly, he saw a list of unfamiliar words on the letter.


    I want three blouses made of white cotton. With cute collars. And a tartan collar. Leather shoes, dark brown, with accessories on the tips. Socks with embroidery and a glass pen. And ink, of course. And, uh¡­


    His sister was asking him to buy some things she would need as a teacher from Sauville and send them to her. The shopping list went on and on.


    Kazuya stopped, flabbergasted. He had no idea where or how to buy the items on her list, or what they even were. He heaved a sigh and looked up at the sky.


    ¡°Ah, there he is! He¡¯s the culprit!¡±


    The word culprit made him turn around.


    Whenever he came across an unusual incident or a crime wrapped in mystery, he would immediately pick it up¡ªunconsciously, at this point¡ªsummarize it succintly, run up a labyrinthine set of stairs, and bring it to his odd, but beautiful friend, who constantly complained about being bored and pestered him for mysteries.


    The person shouting about a culprit turned out to be someone he knew¡ªhis homeroom teacher, Ms. Cecile. She wore big, round glasses and had shoulder-length brunette hair that fluffed up in the wind. She reminded him of a cute puppy.


    For some reason, Ms. Cecile was pointing at him.


    ¡°The culprit? Where?¡± Kazuya looked behind him.


    A breeze whistled past. There was no one there.


    He turned back to Ms. Cecile. She was definitely pointing at his direction. Curiously, he studied the teacher and her finger.


    The hedge beside her shook, as if a large beast was lurking in there. Kazuya took a step back.


    A muscular old man with a bearded face emerged from the hedge. He was holding a pair of gardening shears in one hand.


    ¡°Mr. Gardener!¡± Cecile said. ¡°That boy right there. He¡¯s the culprit. He stepped on the violets and made a hole in the hedge.¡±


    Kazuya¡¯s breath seized. A few weeks ago, he needed to get out of the academy way past curfew, and he had done so through a hole in the hedge. When Ms. Cecile found out, she reprimanded him severely.


    The gardener, his face tanned like leather, frowned at Kazuya. He must have been called to fix the hole in the hedge.


    ¡°So you¡¯re the one who did this!¡± the gardener barked. ¡°Do you have any idea how much effort I put into growing these things?! Come over here for a sec. I¡¯ll cut off that mischievous arms of yours with this!¡± He swung his huge gardening shears around.


    The man was threatening Kazuya so he wouldn¡¯t escape. But Kazuya only turned pale as a ghost.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry!¡± Kazuya bowed his head.


    Taken aback, the gardener regarded the back of Kazuya¡¯s head with a puzzled expression. He chuckled. ¡°Ah, it¡¯s fine. You probably got an earful from Ms. Cecile anyway. Just don¡¯t do it again.¡± He returned inside the hedge.


    Ms. Cecile was chuckling.


    Kazuya was about to walk away, when he remembered something and came back. ¡°¡®Scuse me, Teach. I have a question.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    Kazuya pointed to the letter in his hand. ¡°What¡¯s a Blue Rose?¡±

 Volume 3 - CH 1.2

    The year 1924.


    The Kingdom of Sauville, a small nation in Europe.


    Like a narrow, secret corridor, it stretched from the Gulf of Lyon, a summer resort for the aristocracy along the Mediterranean Sea, through inland Europe, and up toward the high Alps. Its border with Switzerland lay deep in the mountains, the border with Italy in the gorgeous region near the sea, and the border with France in an inland city where the royal palace was located. Surrounded by great powers, Sauville boasted a long and grand history, surviving even the Great War. It was called the little giant of Western Europe.


    At the foot of the Alps was St. Marguerite Academy, a school with a long and grand history, though not as long as the kingdom itself. Known throughout the kingdom as the educational institution for the aristocracy, it stood grandly in a quiet environment. The majestic school building, shaped like a U when viewed from above, was surrounded by a vast garden and high hedges. Only students and staff were allowed entry to this secretive academy.


    But after the end of the Great War, St. Marguerite Academy began accepting promising youth from allied nations as exchange students.


    Fifteen-year-old Kazuya Kujou was a student with excellent grades and good conduct. He received a recommendation to attend St. Marguerite Academy partly because of his family background¡ªhis father, an Imperial soldier, and his two outstanding older brothers.


    However, what awaited the thrilled Kazuya was the prejudice of the noble children, the language and cultural barriers, the mysterious horror stories that were rampant throughout the academy¡­


    ¡­and Victorique de Blois, a beautiful but strange and somewhat ruthless girl.


    After a few months of studying abroad, Kazuya was finally getting used to life in Sauville, despite the difficulties he continued to face.


    ¡°Blue Rose?¡± Ms. Cecile inclined her head.


    Kazuya nodded and sat down with his teacher on a wooden bench in a corner of the lawn.


    The academy campus housed a huge U-shaped school building, a lavish dormitory for students, a grand library, and a chapel, and all around the paths connecting each facility were intricately-landscaped gardens that were a sight to behold. Fountains. Trimmed flowerbeds. Pleasant lawns.


    Kazuya showed the letter he received from his sister. ¡°My sisters wants me to buy her some things here in Sauville. Clothes, shoes, stationery.¡± At the end of the letter, it said, ¡®and one Blue Rose. Thanks!¡¯ Kazuya had no idea what she meant. ¡°I thought a woman might know,¡± he added.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know about it?¡± Ms. Cecile gave him a look of astonishment.


    ¡°I-I have no idea what it is. Is it supposed to be well-known?¡±


    ¡°Boys really are clueless about these things, huh?¡±


    ¡°Sorry¡­¡±


    Because of Victorique and Avril, it had become a habit of his to apologize at the littlest of things. But he never really thought he was to blame.


    ¡°The Blue Rose is one of the largest blue diamonds in the world.¡±


    ¡°A diamond?¡±


    ¡°Yup. It¡¯s about this big. It¡¯s called the Blue Rose because it¡¯s shaped like a rose. It¡¯s the royal family¡¯s national treasure and integrated into its emblem. Didn¡¯t you see a picture of it in the textbooks?¡±


    Kazuya nodded, remembering a picture of a blue diamond in his art textbook. But a moment later, he frowned. ¡°Sending that to my sister will cause an international problem.¡±


    Ms. Cecile laughed. ¡°Oh, Kujou. Your sister is talking about a glass replica of the Blue Rose. It¡¯s used as paperweight. They¡¯re very popular among women right now. I believe they¡¯re only sold at Jeantan.¡±


    ¡°Jeantan?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a big department store in Saubreme.¡±


    Kazuya¡¯s brows furrowed.


    Saubreme was the name of the capital of the Kingdom of Sauville. A city located on the plains near the border with France, it was far from the village where St. Marguerite Academy stood. He had passed through it once when he first arrived in Sauville, but he had never been there since, because it was too far and he had no business there.


    ¡°I see. So I have to go to Saubreme to buy one.¡±


    ¡°Why not just tell your sister that it¡¯s too far?¡±


    ¡°Hmm. I think she¡¯s really looking forward to it, though,¡± he said, wearing a thoughtful look.


    Staring at his face, Ms. Cecile reached her hand out and stroke Kazuya¡¯s head.


    ¡°Wh-What are you doing?!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re such a good little brother!¡±


    ¡°Stop it!¡± Kazuya backed away. ¡°Anyway, I was scared there for a second. I thought she meant a real blue diamond.¡±


    ¡°Actually, the real blue diamond is gone.¡±


    ¡°What? Gone?¡±


    ¡°It disappeared from the royal treasury during the Great War, along with countless works of art. I¡¯m sure it¡¯s been taken out of the kingdom and put on display in the mansion of some collector from the New World.¡± Ms. Cecile looked a little dejected.


    ¡°The Blue Rose has been a very important symbol of this kingdom. It¡¯s been on the throne for generations. Apparently, the royal family suffered a great loss when it disappeared. There¡¯s also a story about a past beautiful queen that involved the diamond. That¡¯s why girls in this kingdom love it. It has a beautiful color and it¡¯s shaped like a flower. Such a shame. I wonder where it is now.¡± She got up and turned to leave, but then remembered something. ¡°Oh, Kujou!¡±


    ¡°Yes, Ma¡¯am?¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re going to go to Jeantan to buy a Blue Rose¡­¡±


    ¡°I know. I need to apply for a permission to go out on the weekend, and I¡¯ll make sure to be back before nighttime.¡±


    ¡°Can you buy one for me as well?¡±


    ¡°¡­What?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve always wanted one,¡± she said happily. ¡°But Saubreme¡¯s too far.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not an errand boy.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m counting on you. And don¡¯t slack off in your studies.¡±


    Ignoring Kazuya¡¯s grumbling, Ms. Cecile walked away with a smile on her face.


    ¡°Ever since coming to Sauville, women have been playing me left and right. I gotta show them a man¡¯s true worth one of these days.¡±


    ¡°Kujou, get one for me too!¡±


    Kazuya screamed and jumped up from the bench. Trembling, he turned around and saw a familiar girl¡¯s face behind.


    Short blonde hair that dazzled in the sunlight. Bright blue eyes always sparkling with joy. Slender arms and legs. The perfect example of a blooming and energetic girl.


    Avril Bradley, a foreign exchange student from England. She joined Kazuya¡¯s class about three months ago, and they became friends after an incident involving a purple book.


    For some reason, she was creeping along the grass. Her skirt was slightly pulled up, revealing her long, radiant legs.


    Kazuya blushed a little. ¡°Wh-What are you doing?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Get one for me too, Kujou.¡±


    ¡°Get you what?¡±


    ¡°A Blue Rose paperweight.¡±


    Kazuya sighed and sat back down on the bench. Avril peeked her head out from behind, wearing a big smile on her face.


    ¡°How long have you been there?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I was lazing around on the lawn over there. Summer¡¯s close, and the weather¡¯s nice and sunny.¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­¡±


    ¡°Then you and Ms. Cecile came. I could sense the good vibes, so I thought I¡¯d disturb you.¡±


    ¡°Good vibes how? First, the gardener threatened me with his gardening shears, and then Ms. Cecile asked me to do some shopping for her.¡±


    Avril cackled. ¡°You¡¯re such a wimp.¡±


    Her casual remark hurt Kazuya deeply. He looked the other way, pretending to be fine. He felt taps on his shoulder. He looked over, pouting, and Avril¡¯s forefinger poked him on the cheek.


    She laughed. ¡°I got you! You fell for it!¡±


    ¡°What were you doing on the lawn?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yeah.¡± Avril pulled her finger away from Kazuya¡¯s cheek and stood up. She scuttled to the other side of the lawn, her skirt fluttering, then came back clutching something to her chest. She was as quick on her feet as ever.


    ¡°Here!¡± She sat down next to Kazuya. ¡°Ta-da!¡±


    It was a book. It had many illustrations and large, easy-to-read characters. It looked like a book for children.


    ¡°I ordered it from the village bookstore,¡± she said proudly. ¡°It finally arrived, and I¡¯ve been reading it since last night. So I¡¯m lacking some sleep. See these red eyes?¡± She pulled her lower eyelid.


    Kazuya could find no hint of tiredness from the healthy-looking Avril.


    He took the book. The title was straight to the point¡ªHorror Stories. Kazuya tried to return it, but Avril put her hands behind her back.


    ¡°It¡¯s an interesting book. You should read it too!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not really a fan of this kind of stuff,¡± he said. ¡°Besides, this is a children¡¯s book.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a pretty difficult book, you know.¡± Avril took the book from Kazuya and flipped through the pages, explaining the stories. ¡°A noblewoman enters a fitting room in a department store. But when the clerk opens the door, all that¡¯s left is a bloody head. Kyaaaah!¡±


    ¡°I told you I¡¯m not falling for that anymore.¡±


    ¡°Also, there¡¯s a story about a beautifully-dressed little girl crying. People call out to her, thinking she¡¯s lost, and then disappear. When they turn a corner, they¡¯re gone, and only their clothes are left. A ghost in the form of a little girl takes them away to the underworld!¡±


    Not paying any attention to Avril, Kazuya turned his eyes to his sister¡¯s letter.


    Hmm?


    He¡¯d been thinking that the mail was quite heavy. It turned out there was something else in it besides the letter. He glimpsed what looked like a light blue cloth.


    ¡°There¡¯s also a murderer who dresses as a hobo. He hangs dead children¡¯s bodies inside his old clothes. The hobo is actually an evil devil-worshiper from some colonial nation. Dried corpses sway inside his clothes as he walks! Hmm? What¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°Uhm, well. I found it in the parcel.¡±


    Kazuya unfolded the light blue cloth from the mail with both hands. He breathed a sigh of admiration. Avril gasped as well.


    It was a silk fabric. It looked somewhat familiar to Kazuya. A small, soft, light-blue kimono with thin, white lines depicting fresh water lilies floating in the water.


    It was his sister¡¯s old kimono that she treasured as a child. She used to wear it when going out.


    A note fell onto Kazuya¡¯s lap, and he picked it up.


    ¡°Compensation for the shopping trip. You mentioned making a friend. A small girl, you said. Please give this to her. From Your Sister.¡±


    A small girl? Kazuya narrowed his eyes.


    He had once written in a letter to his family that he had made a friend. A little girl. Apparently, his sister mistook her for an actual child. The kimono was indeed breathtaking. Avril¡¯s breath even caught in her throat. But it was child-sized.


    Victorique¡¯s the same age as me, though.


    It occurred to Kazuya, then, that the kimono might be the perfect size for Victorique¡¯s smaller body. Although she had a big brain that even a bunch of adults could not match, her figure was as tiny as that of a child. If she removed all the layers of frills and laces wrapped around her, there wouldn¡¯t be a lot of her left.


    Smiling, Kazuya immediately got up, intent on showing the kimono to Victorique.


    ¡°Kujou?¡± Avril called curiously.


    She almost got up to follow him, but she was still sleepy. She rolled over on the bench and watched Kazuya as he walked away.


    ¡°You¡¯re probably headed there again,¡± she mumbled. ¡°I know all about it.¡± She rubbed her blue eyes and slowly closed them. ¡°You always end up in that place.¡±


    An early summer breeze blew past, flipping the pages of the children¡¯s book.

 Volume 3 - CH 1.3

    St. Marguerite¡¯s Grand Library.


    At the back of the academy¡¯s spacious, gently-sloping campus, stood one of Europe¡¯s most prestigious halls of knowledge, with more than three hundred years of history behind it. The stone tower, shaped like a polygonal tube, its color faded by the elements, looked like a silent giant from its lofty perch, looking down on the entire campus.


    The tower was of such a simple construction that one would wonder where the entrance was, but as you approached it, you would notice a leather door with brass rivets.


    It was hollow inside, with a ceiling of dizzying height. Every wall was lined with bookshelves, filled with tens of thousands of thick, leather-bound books.


    Solemn religious paintings covered the ceiling, but what really arrested attention was the wooden staircase, narrow and oddly-shaped.


    A maze of stairs.


    According to one theory, this place was a labyrinth that led to the heavens, built with precise calculations at the beginning of the 17th century by the then King of Sauville. A henpecked husband, he built a small room at the top of the tower to keep his clandestine meetings with his young and beautiful mistress from being discovered. He also built a maze of stairs so that no one but themselves could ascend to the top.


    Today, a hydraulic elevator, installed during a partial restoration, sat at the end of the hall. But only faculty and one special student were allowed to use it.


    Victorique de Blois, the special student, was reading from the top of the library again today, her long, golden hair hanging down like Rapunzel.


    The topmost room, which was once a bedroom where the king and his mistress indulged in each other¡¯s company, had now been completely remodeled and turned into a small, pleasant conservatory. Tropical trees and large, garish flowers glittered under the light streaming in through the skylight.


    Between the conservatory and the landing of the stairs lay an extravagant porcelain doll of a young girl. Nearly life-size, it was about 140 centimeters tall, garbed in a satin aqua-blue dress overlaid with a bouquet of dainty laces. Her long, magnificent, golden hair, like an untied turban, cascaded down the floor. Her tiny feet were wrapped in boots embossed with rose patterns.


    Her face, looking slightly downward, was impassive. Her bright, emerald eyes seemed to stare wistfully into some distant shore. A beautiful face wearing a ruthless expression.


    The small, porcelain doll¡ªno, the girl who looked like a doll herself¡ªbrought a ceramic pipe to her mouth and smoked it.


    A wisp of white smoke drifted toward the skylight, rippled by the occasional gust of wind.


    Victorique de Blois¡ªSt. Marguerite Academy¡¯s Princess Locked in a Tower.


    For reasons unknown, she was not allowed to leave the academy, and perhaps as a way of protesting, she never attended any classes. She was a very beautiful and very mysterious creature who spent most of her time reading in this conservatory.


    As always, several thick books were laid out in a circle in front of her. Smoking her pipe, Victorique read at a rapid pace.


    It was like a scene straight out of a painting, seemingly unreal, as though she had been there for a hundred years. Whenever Victorique reached out to turn a page of the book, there was a faint rustling of her striking satin dress, the only sound in this otherwise silent sanctuary.


    But soon, an intruder disrupted her beautiful, still image.


    Noticing an approaching presence, Victorique lifted her head. It was a movement akin to a wild animal. A fish forewarning of an earthquake. A critter sniffing the scent of a predator. A migratory bird heralding the coming of winter.


    Her brows slightly furrowed.


    A loud bang came from far below, around the library hall. Someone had opened the door and entered.


    There was silence, as though whoever was down there was listening closely if anyone was around.


    ¡°Victorique?¡± a small voice called. ¡°Are you there?¡±


    The voice belonged to a boy.


    Victorique frowned a little. ¡°Of course I¡¯m here.¡±


    Her voice sounded peculiar¡ªhusky, like that of an old woman. There was a sharp glint in her eyes somehow distant from reality, like an old-timer who had already lived several decades. The impression she gave was a stark contrast to her tiny, doll-like appearance.


    The rhythmic sound of footsteps indicated that the boy¡ªKazuya Kujou¡ªhad started climbing up the stairs. Like a straight-laced, straight-A student, his footsteps were steady and constant.


    Victorique listened to the sound of his footsteps as she smoked her pipe.


    Suddenly, she heard a faint yelp, followed by the sound of something tumbling down the stairs. Startled, Victorique leaned over the railing and looked down.


    She could not see Kazuya. He seemed to have tripped on the stairs and stopped short somewhere.


    ¡°Help! Victorique!¡± he cried. ¡°Why am I even bothering? You¡¯re never going to help. I know that all too well. Just wait there for me!¡±


    Victorique shrugged and resumed reading as though nothing had happened.


    Several minutes later.


    Kazuya Kujou arrived at the conservatory, breathing hard.


    Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he trotted happily, but tiredly, toward his little friend Victorique, who was reading a book.


    ¡°I tripped on my way up,¡± he said, sitting down next to her in a familiar motion. ¡°Since I always climb these stairs, I got distracted. Gotta stay alert at all times. I bet you¡¯d die if you fall from somewhere high up.¡±


    Victorique snorted loudly.


    For a while, Kazuya just stared at his friend¡¯s cold face with a grin.


    ¡°Oh, by the way,¡± he said finally.


    He got up and started collecting the candy wrappers that Victorique had left scattered on the floor. Victorique lifted her head for a moment and watched Kazuya, then turned her gaze back to her book.


    ¡°Did you receive a letter from your sister?¡± she asked.


    Kazuya tucked the wrappers into his uniform¡¯s pocket. ¡°I did. I went to the post office and got one. But it was a very long letter¡­ Wait a sec. How¡¯d you know?¡±


    ¡°The same as always. Through the Wellspring of Wisdom,¡± Victorique replied wearily. She was about to flip through the book, when she pulled her hand back and balled both hands into fists. ¡°Nothing is impossible to my Wellspring of Wisdom. Even if I am simply sitting here, I know everything. My heightened senses gather fragments of chaos from the world around me. The Wellspring of Wisdom then toys with them to stave off my boredom, reconstructing them, leaving only hard facts. The process brings me pleasure on the daily, and sometimes, if I feel like it, I may even verbalize them so that a simpleton like you can understand. It¡¯s often too much trouble, though.¡±


    Kazuya clicked his tongue in response.


    ¡°It¡¯s elementary. I can tell by the package you¡¯re carrying that you went to the post office. If it were a letter from your father or brothers, you would be miserable right now, but today you look happy. Thus one can assume that the letter is not from them.¡±


    ¡°Well, when you put it like that, I guess it¡¯s simple.¡±


    Kazuya sighed and hugged his knees. He picked up one of the candies lying on the floor, peeled off the polka-dot wrapper, and tossed it into his mouth. The candy was bigger than he had expected. Chewing, he glanced at his little friends¡¯ face.


    Victorique de Blois. A mysterious girl, who called Kazuya Kujou¡ªa foreign student from an island country in the Orient, recognized as a brilliant student by academy staff¡ªa simpleton.


    Normally, Kazuya would never allow any other student to insult him. He had come to Sauville as a student representing his own country, and he had excellent grades to back it up.


    But for some reason, when this little girl who had never attended class¡ªyet somehow able to skim through difficult books with ease¡ªsaid it, he couldn¡¯t refute her.


    This was partly due to the fact that when he first met Victorique, she was able to get to the bottom of an incident in which he was involved. In all of their subsequent adventures, she was logical and articulate, and her Wellspring of Wisdom quickly reconstructed fragments of chaos and verbalized them.


    And yet, Victorique had a helpless side to her. She had to exert all her strength just to lift even a small chair.


    Kazuya found himself stunned by Victorique¡¯s mysterious mind, and deeply hurt by her insults, but rushed to her aid when she needed it.


    Kazuya¡¯s pride, his common sense, and his hidden kindness had all been running at full tilt in the months since he had met her. Even now, he could not decide whether to get angry at Victorique for her blunt attitude, or stay around. He just stared at her cold little face, chewing on a big piece of candy.

 Volume 3 - CH 1.4

    ¡°I think horror stories are just one huge collective illusion,¡± Victorique said all of a sudden.


    Kazuya, debating whether to crush or continue licking the candy, raised his head, surprised. ¡°Wh-What?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m talking about the horror stories that are popular in this academy.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because I¡¯m bored.¡±


    Kazuya frowned.


    Victorique removed the pipe from her mouth and glared at Kazuya resentfully. Her emerald eyes glowed.


    ¡°Since you haven¡¯t brought me any mysteries from down the surface, I¡¯ve been completely and utterly bored. I¡¯ve been telling you constantly that I¡¯m bored to death, but you have not found a single mysterious case, and you don¡¯t have the heart to create one yourself.¡±


    ¡°If I created one myself, I¡¯d be the culprit. They¡¯ll put me on a ship and deport me immediately. You can be unreasonable sometimes, you know that?¡±


    Victorique raised her head. ¡°Princess¡¯s orders, Kujou. Get yourself involved in some incident by tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°No way. Why would I do that?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I will solve the case once I feel like it.¡±


    ¡°What happens if you don¡¯t feel like it?!¡± He turned his back on her.


    Victorique scoffed. She moved to flip through the book, but yelped and pulled her hand back quickly. She clenched her hands into fists again and glanced at Kazuya, wondering if he saw anything.


    She felt relieved when she saw he wasn¡¯t looking.


    She stretched in the manner of cats. Her small body extended surprisingly long. Her blue satin dress and layers of black lace made a shuffling sound.


    ¡°So..?¡± Kazuya said.


    ¡°Hmm?¡±


    ¡°What was that about horror stories?¡±


    ¡°Oh, that.¡± Victorique finished stretching and brought her pipe close to her mouth again. Puffing out smoke, she said, ¡°Did you know that we are in the midst of an unprecedented horror story boom? Books compiling supernatural stories are selling like hotcakes, and tourists are flocking to mansions that are reputed to be haunted.¡±


    ¡°I had no idea. There¡¯s one student in my class who loves horror stories. I¡¯m not really interested, though.¡±


    ¡°Have you noticed that this trend is centered in urban areas?¡±


    Kazuya shook his head. ¡°Not at all.¡± Then he recalled the stories he heard from Avril earlier. They were all set in urban department stores, or city streets. He nodded to himself.


    ¡°This has been going on since the end of the last century. Rapid modernization is driving the darkness away. Mysterious phenomena that couldn¡¯t be explained by logic are being debunked by science. Mysteries cease to become mysteries. But people don¡¯t live only by what they can see and understand. This is where the supernatural story boom comes in. It¡¯s simple desire.¡±


    ¡°Desire?¡±


    ¡°Yes. The desire for the unseen and the incomprehensible to exist. Some look to religion, because they have not yet seen God. Some look to love, because they had not felt it. And some began looking to the supernatural.¡±


    ¡°Religion and love is one thing, but the supernatural is just weird.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s weird is the souvenirs you sometimes bring.¡±


    ¡°Ugh¡­ right. Sorry about that.¡±


    He glanced at the candy container on the floor beside Victorique. Once a curious hat, it had been flipped upside down and turned into a candy jar. Even Kazuya himself had no idea what the fist-sized golden skull inside was used for.


    Kazuya popped a second piece of candy in his mouth. ¡°But I don¡¯t believe in supernatural tales. They¡¯re all just made-up. There¡¯s nothing in this world that can¡¯t be explained by logic. There are even countless theories about God, love, and so on. Anyway, I will never, ever believe in any kind of supernatural phenomena.¡±


    Victorique snorted. ¡°People who say such things tend to have cold feet when something inexplicable happens.¡±


    ¡°Th-That¡¯s not true¡­¡± Kazuya went silent.


    Victorique looked up and regarded his face curiously. ¡°Why the stupid look on your face?¡±


    ¡°Sue me, okay? I was born with this face.¡±


    ¡°I see you¡¯re confident that you won¡¯t fall for any lies. Allow me to show you, then, that you are a fool, a rascal, and a brute.¡± She sounded oddly cheerful. She faced Kazuya directly and stared at him, which was very unusual for her.


    Kazuya shot her an uneasy look. Studying her from up front reminded him just how small she really was. It looked as though an intricate doll had been placed on the floor. The hand holding her pipe sometimes moved slowly like a puppet, but it was the enigmatic glint in her deep green eyes that proved that this was no doll, but a being with a will.


    ¡°What is it?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Take a gander.¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡± Kazuya leaned forward.


    Victorique held out a clenched fist. It was surprisingly small. There was something shining on her right hand. A ring. A dull, olive-colored stone inlaid on a golden, serpent-shaped base.


    ¡°This is a magic ring,¡± she said.


    Kazuya stared at Victorique with a puzzled look on his face.


    She was serious. She didn¡¯t seem to be joking, but she was certainly up to something. Her eyes were smiling.


    ¡°It¡¯s a magic ring,¡± she repeated in a childish tone.


    Kazuya scratched his head. ¡°You can be so childish sometimes!¡±


    ¡°Shut up. How is this ring magic, you ask? It has the power to see through your lies.¡±


    ¡°Oh, just drop it already. There¡¯s no way.¡±


    ¡°It can see through your lies. Scary, huh?¡±


    ¡°N-No, it¡¯s not!¡±


    ¡°Then clean out those silly ears of yours and listen carefully. This ring glows red when you tell the truth. But it glows green when you lie. It¡¯s a magic ring, after all. Do you understand? Nod even if you don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°¡­Okay.¡±


    ¡°Very well. I will now start asking questions.¡± She gave an affected nod.


    She looked just like a child, her usual sagacious side nowhere to be found. Kazuya was confused, but he could not think of any way to escape from this situation, so he reluctantly decided to play along with her.


    Right when I managed to escape from Avril and her ramblings about the supernatural¡­ He sighed.


    ¡°Are you ready?¡± Victorique asked.


    ¡°¡­I am.¡±


    ¡°Kazuya Kujou is an idiot.¡±


    ¡°What was that?!¡±


    ¡°Give me your answer.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not an idiot. I¡¯m average,¡± he snapped. ¡°No, wait. I¡¯m a little smarter than average.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re lying.¡±


    ¡°Why, you¡­!¡±


    Victorique¡¯s smug look baffled him. He glanced at Victorique¡¯s hand. The color of the ring had changed to a dark green.


    Kazuya looked baffled. ¡°You secretly switched the ring with a different one, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°I did no such thing. If you¡¯re in doubt, keep your eyes on the ring.¡±


    ¡°O-Okay¡­¡± He stared at the ring.


    ¡°Kujou is a womanizer.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°A philanderer.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s too far.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s a bloodthirsty, lecherous, good-for-nothing.¡±


    ¡°Now you¡¯re just being mean. More than usual¡­¡±


    ¡°Kujou.¡±


    ¡°Then answer is no! Listen here¡­ Huh?¡±


    Kazuya cocked his head. The ring had once again changed to a dark green. He watched it with bated breath.


    Victorique cackled. ¡°I told you. This is a magic ring.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah. I¡¯m just a bloodthirsty, good-for-nothing. Fine. You jerk.¡±


    ¡°Be quiet. One last question. Kujou, you are a boring simpleton.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah. I get it. I¡¯m a boring simpleton.¡±


    With a big smile on her face, Victorique held up her hand toward him.


    The ring had changed to an ominous dark red, the color of blood.

 Volume 3 - CH 1.5

    The dry wind of early summer that blew in through the skylight ruffled Kazuya¡¯s forelocks. He was gaping at the red ring, his mouth hanging open. The tropical trees and the garish flowers stirred.


    Victorique had turned her back on Kazuya and returned to her world of books. Kazuya waited for a while, but when she did not say anything, he reluctantly called to her.


    ¡°Then what?¡±


    No answer.


    ¡°How does it work? You made such a big deal out of it, so there must be something. Come on, tell me.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Victorique. Can you tell me¡ª¡±


    Victorique raised her head and looked over her shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re still here?¡±


    ¡°Yes! I was waiting for your explanation.¡±


    Victorique stared at him blankly, confused. ¡°I¡¯m reading a book. Could you please be quiet?¡±


    ¡°Victorique!¡± Kazuya suddenly shouted.


    Victorique¡¯s eyes widened in surprise. Her cheeks puffed. ¡°Keep it down, Kujou.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just curious.¡±


    ¡°But I¡¯ve grown tired of poking fun at you.¡±


    ¡°You little¡­ Why?!¡±


    ¡°Because you are a simpleton, I imagine.¡± She turned her back again.


    ¡°I¡¯m warning you. I¡¯ll get mad. Sometimes your insults are just too much. Some nights I wonder that maybe you actually hate me.¡±


    Kazuya thought he saw a slight change in the expression on Victorique¡¯s face. Was she perhaps concerned that she went too far? He couldn¡¯t really see her face from where he was.


    Victorique, however, pursed her lips tight. ¡°Stop bothering me,¡± she snorted. ¡°I¡¯m reading a book.¡±


    Kazuya went silent, miffed.


    Another wind blew. The dazzling sunlight of early summer was pouring in through the skylight. Victorique¡¯s golden hair, hanging like an untied velvet turban, glistened.


    A wisp of white pipe smoke rose toward the ceiling.


    ¡°Kujou,¡± Victorique finally said without looking up. ¡°Left bookshelf, seventeenth from the top, twentieth from the left.¡±


    ¡°¡­What?¡±


    ¡°A book. Just bring it to me.¡±


    Irritated, Kazuya silently got up his feet. With rhythmic footsteps, he descended the narrow wooden stairs, grabbed the book Victorique asked for, and came back.


    ¡°Seventh line from the top of the seven hundredth page,¡± Victorique said curtly.


    ¡°¡­Hmm?¡± Kazuya sat down beside her and began flipping through the thick book.


    It was a book about rare gemstones. On the seventh line from the top of the 700th page, there was a description of a gemstone called an alexandrite.


    ¡°Ah¡­¡± Kazuya nodded.


    Alexandrite was a gemstone that magically changed color to dark red when exposed to artificial light and to dark green when exposed to natural light. Since ancient times, fortune-tellers and the like had used its unique characteristic for magic. And there was a time when it was misused as a stone that held evil powers by colonials who spread their native religions, such as devil worship that swept Europe at the end of the last century.


    Now that he thought about it, when the gem turned dark green, Victorique was holding it toward the sunlight streaming in through the skylight, and toward the bright lamps in the conservatory when it turned dark red.


    ¡°I see.¡± Kazuya nodded. ¡°The gemstone on your ring is an alexandrite.¡±


    ¡°You thought it was magic, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°N-No way! I admit, I was a little, no, very freaked out. But¡­¡±


    Victorique regarded Kazuya with a devilish grin on her face. ¡°When I was young,¡± she said, ¡°I used this ring a lot to threaten Grevil.¡±


    ¡°You mean Inspector Blois?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I was locked up in the tower, and for some odd reason Grevil came to see me every day and silently observed me, which I found quite creepy. I would use the ring to guess things that I had already learned from the Wellspring of Wisdom, and he would get so scared, tears would well up in his eyes.¡±


    ¡°Poor guy¡­¡±


    Victorique frowned a little, and then leaned forward. ¡°That¡¯s not all. I had glowing messengers from hell run around the room. The fool thought I was a real demon. That¡¯s how I managed to get rid of him.¡±


    ¡°Messengers from hell?¡±


    ¡°Glowing rats.¡±


    ¡°What are those?¡±


    ¡°Why do you care about every little detail?!¡±


    Kazuya went quiet. Victorique didn¡¯t seem to care.


    In a weary tone, she added, ¡°While you¡¯re at it, open the same book to page one thousand two. It¡¯s the fifth line from the bottom.¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡±


    Kazuya opened the book to the page she indicated.


    There was an entry about a rare fluorite called a Blue John. It was a kind of crystallized mineral collected in limestone caves in England. Because of its blue-white phosphorescence, it had been used since ancient times for drinking cups and buildings. Apparently, since the last century mediums had been using it in their seances to make it seem like spirits were appearing.


    ¡°So you used this Blue John thing?¡± Kazuya asked.


    Victorique nodded languidly. ¡°Ahuh. I turned it into powder and put it on rats. Grevil was so terrified, he kept glaring at me.¡±


    ¡°But didn¡¯t he get mad when you revealed the trick?¡±


    ¡°Reveal the trick?¡± Victorique asked curiously.


    A wind blew once more. Bells from the campus chapel rang in the distance.


    The sun was slowly setting, and the conservatory was filled with the humid evening air.


    Victorique stared at Kazuya vacantly for a while, then in a surprised tone said, ¡°I didn¡¯t reveal anything.¡±


    ¡°What?! Why not?!¡±


    ¡°B-Because he ran away before I could say anything. And¡­¡± She pouted a little. ¡°It was too much trouble.¡±


    Kazuya didn¡¯t know what to say.


    Victorique was always ruthless and devious, yet also childish and weak. Kazuya would actually be furious at her sometimes for being incredibly mean. Still, the reason why he could not fully hate Victorique was because he had come to realize that she treated people other than him differently.


    Victorique did not shower others with insults as much as she did to Kazuya. It had nothing to do with manners or friendship. She simply did not care.


    Kazuya still remembered the words that Grevil de Blois said to him.


    ¡°You don¡¯t realize it yourself, Kujou, but the privilege you enjoy is so odd, it¡¯s like getting free money from an unscrupulous loan shark.¡±


    Even now, Victorique hesitantly explained the magic ring to him, but if it had been anyone else, she would not have told them because it would have been too much trouble.


    Taking all this into consideration, he couldn¡¯t really fully hate Victorique.


    Kazuya was about to get up and leave, when he remembered something. ¡°Oh, by the way.¡±


    Victorique was still clenching her fists and reading a book.


    Not caring if Victorique was listening or not, Kazuya opened the parcel and showed it to her. There was a rustling sound as a light-blue silk kimono unrolled.


    Victorique glanced at it. The light-blue kimono and the soft pink obi spread out on the floor like a blooming flower. She ignored it.


    ¡°My sister sent this,¡± Kazuya said. ¡°I know my gifts are weird, but this one should be fine. I thought you might like it as a nightwear. Do you want it?¡±


    There was no answer.


    ¡°Okay, then. If you don¡¯t want it, I¡¯ll just take it back with me,¡± he said, crestfallen.


    ¡°I want it!¡±


    ¡°Really? So you like it, then?¡± He beamed. ¡°Man, why do you have to be so confusing? So anyway, you tie the obi like this, and this¡­ Hey, look at me.¡±


    Victorique turned her back to Kazuya and said, ¡°With my Wellspring of Wisdom, nothing is impossible.¡±


    ¡°What now?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need you to teach me,¡± she snapped. ¡°You just don¡¯t know how to keep your mouth shut. We¡¯re done here.¡±


    ¡°Now, listen here¡­¡±


    Frowning, Kazuya untied the obi from his waist and set it on top of the kimono.


    Victorique was still ignoring him.


    Kazuya sighed. ¡°See you later, then.¡±


    When he received no reply, he hung his head and slowly descended the wooden stairs.

 Volume 3 - CH 1.6

    Smoking her pipe, Victorique listened to Kazuya¡¯s rhythmic footsteps as they receded further and further away.


    The footsteps eventually faded, and after a while there was a sound of the library door opening. After Kazuya had left and the library closed again, the air in the library stopped, leaving only profound silence, as there had been for hundreds of years.


    The ceiling-high walls of bookshelves, the majestic religious paintings far above, the long, meandering stairs¡ªeverything in the tower was wrapped in stillness. The only thing that moved was the pipe held by the girl in a lavish dress, sitting alone in the conservatory.


    She brought the pipe to her mouth and smoked a puff.


    Now alone, Victorique¡¯s face clouded with a tinge of loneliness. She opened the fist that she had kept clenched the whole time.


    Her palms were small, like that of an elaborate doll. Her fingernails were as small as a child¡¯s, her fingers surprisingly thin. Both of her palms were red and swollen.


    A few weeks back, Victorique de Blois had snuck out of St. Marguerite Academy and had gone to a secluded village deep in the mountains. Kazuya, finding out about her trip, tagged along and actually helped her a great deal. But she almost lost him in the process. Desperately, she saved him with her tiny hands. She could not lift heavy things, and she had not once exerted so much strength before that.


    The skin on Victorique¡¯s palms was so fragile that even now they were red and swollen to the point of being painful to the touch.


    Of course, Kazuya had no way of knowing about the injured palms she kept hidden.


    For a while, Victorique stared at her swollen palms as if she were looking at something bizarre. She looked puzzled, as though she couldn¡¯t understand what had happened to her hands.


    Eventually, she lowered her palms to her knees with a frown.


    She turned to the beautiful kimono on the floor.


    Although she had to control herself when Kazuya was present, Victorique was actually completely captivated by the refreshing light-blue color of the oriental garment. She had never seen such a design before. The negative emotions¡ªweariness, boredom, sadness, anger¡ªthat had filled her heart until moments ago had vanished. Cautiously, she reached for the curious garment.


    The silk was much rougher to the touch than the Western-style dresses Victorique was accustomed to wearing. The water lilies, which looked like they had been quickly painted with a white brush, were flowers she had never seen before. Victorique gently reached for the obi. The fluffy pink cloth was stiff and surprisingly hard. Caressing the beautiful kimono and obi, Victorique let out a faint gasp.


    ¡°Ah, how pretty!¡± she breathed.


    With a smile of innocence and happiness that she had never shown to anyone, Victorique repeatedly rubbed her cheeks against the kimono.


    The sun was slowly sinking below the horizon.


    The red light of the setting sun shone all over the spacious campus of St. Marguerite Academy. Dusk was creeping in on the fountain, on the bridge over a stream, the high hedges.


    The riveted library door opened quietly, and Victorique stepped out. With both hands in front of her chest, she walked carefully and slowly, carrying her kimono and obi.


    She walked on for a while. She passed by the fountain, crossed a small bridge, and ambled along a white gravel path.


    In one corner of the campus, opposite from the library, was a labyrinth of hedges. Large flower beds, about the height of a person, built in the form of a maze. A curious kind of garden loved by the nobility in the Middle Ages.


    Gold, light purple, and crimson flowers were blooming in every corner of the square-cut flowerbeds.


    Victorique entered the maze in a familiar manner, and like a young ghost sucked into the evening darkness, she completely disappeared from sight.


    She walked straight through the flowers that lined both sides of her familiar path, navigating through the maze without trouble. Anyone else would¡¯ve been lost if it were their first time.


    She made it through the maze and onto a clearing. A modest front yard. A cozy two-story house, too small for humans. Outside, an iron spiral staircase connected the first and second floors.


    Victorique strode swiftly into the small, colorful, candy-like house.


    The inside was like a dollhouse. It was lavish, but each piece of furniture was small, as if custom-made, and looked more like colorful toys. In the bedroom was a lovely canopied bed and a mirror stand made of brass. A tiny rocking chair for children sat by the window of the small living room. On a chest of drawers was a pretty plate with a strawberry motif and a picture embroidered with beads.


    Thick books were piled high from the floor to the ceiling.


    Victorique entered the room with a yawn, but when she carefully placed the kimono and obi on the miniature table, she smiled broadly, caressing the cloth over and over again with her tiny hands.


    ¡°Kimono, kimono! Kujou gave me a kimono!¡± she hummed in her low, husky voice.


    She twirled around, and almost fell, but managed to return to her original spot. She gleefully rubbed the kimono again.


    She opened the door of a large wardrobe and was about to hang the kimono when she stopped.


    ¡°That rascal said to use it as a nightwear,¡± Victorique mumbled.


    She then began taking off her own lavish dress of aqua-blue satin and black lace.


    She untied the layers of thin ribbons around her chest, one at a time, from top to bottom.


    Still untying¡­


    A little more to go¡­


    Once she was done with the ribbons, she undid the buttons underneath, one by one.


    Still undoing them¡­


    A little more to go¡­


    When that was done, she moved to the ribbon and the buttons on her sleeves.


    When she finally finished removing all the ribbons and buttons, she took a deep breath, and took off her dress. She removed the pannier¡ªan undergarment like an open umbrella with laces that was attached to the waist to make the skirt of the dress wider¡ªwith both arms, sat down on the floor, and took off her rose-stamped boots one foot at a time. She also removed her silk, embroidered socks and put on her soft, ballet slippers.


    ¡°Phew¡­¡± Victorique stood up.


    Without her heels, she looked even much smaller than before. Although her laced camisole, her three-tiered frilled petticoat, and her embroidered drawers gave her more volume, she was still much smaller than when she was wearing the dress.


    Stretching as high as she could, she managed to put the blue satin dress back in the wardrobe.


    She turned to the kimono spread out on the table. Her face was as cool and expressionless as usual. But there was a hint of joy in her eyes.


    Slowly, she reached for the kimono and wore it.


    First, the right sleeve.


    Then the left.


    The kimono slowly wrapped around her small body.


    The corners of her mouth loosened.


    But as she grabbed the obi, she frowned. ¡°A belt?¡± she wondered. ¡°There¡¯s no buckle. A ribbon, then? It¡¯s awfully long for a ribbon.¡±


    For a while, she fiddled with the belt like a cat playing with catnip.


    ¡°I sense chaos,¡± she murmured.


    Too bothered to figure it out, Victorique began twirling the sash around her fragile, thin waist. She tied it in a ribbon and nodded.


    Having grown weary of thinking, she yawned loudly and sat down on the rocking chair. Swaying back and forth, she picked up a nearby book and began flipping through its pages. She lit up a pipe and smoked a puff. She immersed herself in the world of books, leafing through pages endlessly.


    Night had fallen. The moon was shining all over the vast campus of St. Marguerite Academy.


    The U-shaped school building was empty, and silence reigned in the student dormitory. Apart from the footsteps of the dormitory head on patrol and the faint light from the lamp on their hand, nothing could be seen, and nothing moved.


    In the quiet darkness of the campus, a figure walked slowly. She was petite, with shoulder-length dark-brown hair and large round glasses that always seemed a little crooked. Ms. Cecile.


    The lamp in her hand glowed orange. Wearing a thin coat over her light-gray nightgown and a round light-gray hat, she ambled along the gravel road.


    When she reached the flowerbed maze, she sighed and ventured in. She, too, vanished like a ghost.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure she¡¯s around, but considering what happened, I have to make my nightly rounds to make sure Victorique is staying put,¡± she muttered. ¡°There would be trouble if she and Kujou went off somewhere again.¡±


    With familiar steps, she made it through the maze. She crossed the modest front yard and entered the dollhouse.


    The lights were out. Ms. Cecile slowly entered the dark bedroom and directed the light of her lamp toward the canopied bed.


    A large frilly pillow. On top of it was Victorique¡¯s little face.


    Her long golden hair lay spread out on the sheets. Victorique was asleep, her small hands clasped around her head like a child.


    ¡°Nothing unusual here,¡± Ms. Cecile said, relieved.


    Then noticing something off, she held up the light over the bed.


    Victorique was wearing an unfamiliar nightgown. It was light-blue and oddly-shaped, tied with what looked like a large, pink ribbon that had almost completely unraveled.


    Ms. Cecile tilted her head in thought. It was very unusual for Victorique to do something different. She always went to the library at the same time, came back at the same time, and wore the same nightwear.


    Once again, Ms. Cecile shined the lamp on the bed.


    ¡°Oh¡­?¡±


    The oriental nightgown was quite revealing, perhaps due to Victorique¡¯s sleeping position as well. Her little navel peered out from the top of her pretty embroidered undergarment.


    The lamplight shone dimly on her pure white belly.


    Ms. Cecile giggled. ¡°You¡¯re going to catch a cold like this.¡±


    She set the lamp down and fixed Victorique¡¯s nightclothes.


    With a chuckle, Ms. Cecile left the bedroom.


    Victorique groaned and turned in her sleep.


    The nightwear that Ms. Cecile had fixed for her had loosened again. She was breathing softly like an adorable little critter.


    The night wore on¡­


    Around the same time, Kazuya was at his desk in the boys¡¯ dormitory.


    Thick Gobelin curtains hung over the French windows. A mahogany desk stood by the window, with textbooks and dictionaries arranged neatly on top of it. The wall-mounted gas lamp flickered silently.


    Kazuya opened the letter from her sister and read it over and over again.


    ¡°A Blue Rose paperweight, white cotton blouse. What else, uhh¡­ What¡¯s a tartan collar again? Shoes, socks, pen and ink¡­¡±


    Kazuya set the letter down and heaved a deep sigh.


    Then, pulling himself together, he put a map of Sauville that he had brought with him when he left the country, an itinerary, and a brochure with information on department stores on the table.


    He opened the brochure. ¡°Hmm¡­ First the station, which is here. And the department store Jeantan is over here. It¡¯s within walking distance. Where else do I have to go?¡±


    Troubled, he pulled out another document and pondered things over.


    Even as the night deepened, Kazuya continued to plan his trip, taking serious notes.

 Volume 3 - CH 1.7

    ¡°Achoo!¡±


    As it always did, the dark, silent night gave way to dawn, and a bright morning greeted the quiet grounds of St. Marguerite Academy.


    As the morning sun lit up the gardens, Kazuya, who woke up earlier than usual, went down to the dormitory dining hall. He greeted the red-haired dorm mother, asked for breakfast, and ate quickly.


    He then got up, thanked the lady, and left the dormitory. In his hand was a bag containing a notebook in which he had jotted down his shopping plans.


    As Kazuya started walking straight toward the main gate, he heard light footsteps coming from a distance. He wondered who it could be. It was the weekend and still early in the morning. Curious, Kazuya turned around, and the person also stopped and stared at him in surprise.


    She was squinting, dazzled perhaps by the morning sun. It was Ms. Cecile.


    ¡°Good morning,¡± Kazuya greeted.


    ¡°Ah, Kujou¡­¡± Ms. Cecile looked oddly flustered. She tottered up to Kazuya.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Kazuya asked.


    ¡°A cold,¡± she replied.


    ¡°Really? You look fine to me.¡±


    ¡°N-Not me.¡± Ms. Cecile flapped her plump arms up and down. She was clearly rattled. ¡°It¡¯s Victorique. Victorique caught a cold.¡±


    ¡°She did?¡± Kazuya was stunned. Ms. Cecile was staring back at Kazuya with a look of disbelief.


    It was hard to believe that the quiet Victorique, who was always at the conservatory, would catch a cold. Kazuya couldn¡¯t wrap his head around it.


    Ms. Cecile cocked her head. ¡°She was wearing a different nightwear last night,¡± she said. ¡°This big, hard ribbon had come undone, and her belly button was showing, so I fixed it for her. But this morning, she was wobbly with a severe cold.¡±


    Kazuya¡¯s breath caught. He had a good idea what she was talking about.


    Ms. Cecile noticed his outdoor jacket and bag. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re going shopping in Saubreme, right? You asked for a permit. Sorry for keeping you. See you around, then.¡±


    ¡°The nightwear you were talking about.¡± Kazuya quickly stopped Ms. Cecile before she could walk away. ¡°I think it¡¯s the one I gave her. The way to tie the obi is complicated. I¡¯m sure she couldn¡¯t do it properly. I¡¯ll write down how to tie it.¡±


    ¡°Oh!¡± Ms. Cecile had a terrifying look on her face. Kazuya backed away. ¡°Silly Kujou. If you give someone something unique, you have to teach them how to wear it properly.¡±


    ¡°Well, I tried to teach her.¡±


    ¡°No excuses. Now say you¡¯re sorry.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    Kazuya stared at Ms. Cecile for a moment, but after only a few seconds, he lost the staring contest and hung his head. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Write a letter to Victorique, then,¡± the teacher said with a smile.


    Kazuya ran back to his dorm room. He pulled out his writing pad and pen and sat down at his mahogany desk. He wrote down an explanation on how to tie the obi, complete with illustrations. He was about to fold it when a flash of inspiration struck him. He opened a drawer and found a colored pen that he had not used for a while. He then colored the illustrations, light blue for the kimono and pink for the obi, turning it into a beautiful letter that Victorique would be pleased with.


    Victorique herself told him that she liked beautiful things. If he made sure the letter looked pretty, he was sure she would like it.


    Kazuya folded the letter and put it in the Japanese paper envelope that he had brought from his country. He also put a small golden flower he found from the flowerbed a short distance away from the dorm in the envelope.


    ¡°All good.¡± He nodded with confidence.


    He headed to the place where Ms. Cecile said Victorique¡¯s special residence was located. It was hard to imagine Victorique being anywhere else but the library. When Kazuya finally found the place, he studied the labyrinth of huge flowerbeds with a dumbfounded look.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡±


    He stayed there for a while, then without much of a choice, stepped inside.


    After a few steps, he turned back. Not only would he get lost inside, he might even forget where the entrance was.


    As he stared at the flowerbeds in wonder, Ms. Cecile arrived. Seeing Kazuya having trouble, she took the envelope from him and said she would bring the letter to Victorique herself. With familiar steps, she disappeared into the labyrinth.


    Watching her made Kazuya feel strange, some mixture of sadness and frustration. Unsure what it was, Kazuya frowned and waited for Ms. Cecile to come back out.


    ¡°Achoo! Achoo! Achoo!¡±


    Victorique¡¯s head rocked back and forth as she sneezed.


    When she woke up, she wondered why the ceiling was spinning, why her face was hot, and why her body felt sluggish. For the first time in her life, Victorique had caught a cold.


    She was small and weak, and her body was in no way robust. Since she was a child, she had been leading a methodical and ascetic life, either in her room on top of a tower or in her special residence at St. Marguerite Academy, without going anywhere else.


    ¡°Achoo!¡±


    Her long, golden hair bounced up and fell back onto the silk sheets. Victorique was silent for a bit, wearing a pitiful look.


    Then slowly, she reached for a tissue paper, and blew her nose.


    Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes. She had blown too hard, it seemed. She held her nose with both hands, her shoulders shaking in pain, and stayed still.


    The door opened quietly to admit Ms. Cecile.


    Victorique turned to the door. ¡°Oh, Cecile.¡±


    Her voice was more raspy and strained than usual. Her cheeks, which had turned crimson, were plumper and seemed a little swollen.


    Ms. Cecile entered and placed a pitcher of water, a packet of medicine, and a small glass of milk on the bedside table.


    ¡°Oh, I saw Kujou, by the way,¡± she said.


    ¡°Hmm?¡±


    ¡°When I told him you caught a cold, he was so worried. He really likes you, doesn¡¯t he?¡± She chuckled, then remembered something. ¡°Here¡¯s a letter.¡±


    ¡°A letter?¡±


    ¡°I saw him standing around in front of the flower beds, so I took it. He seems to be in a hurry, so write him back a reply right away.¡±


    ¡°Why is he in a hurry? Achoo!¡± Head jerking as she sneezed, Victorique regarded Ms. Cecile curiously.


    The teacher smiled. ¡°He¡¯s going shopping in Saubreme. His family asked him to. He looked a little excited.¡±


    ¡°Kujou? Excited? The nerve¡­ Achoo!¡±


    Ms. Cecile left the bedroom to tidy up.


    Victorique studied the Japanese envelope with some glee. The envelope had a similar rough texture to the kimono she had rubbed her cheeks on last night. After enjoying the feel of the envelope for a bit, Victorique opened it happily. She became even happier as a golden flower spilled out.


    With a smile on her red face, Victorique opened the envelope. She was impressed by the beautifully-colored kimono and obi, but then her emerald eyes flashed with anger at the first line of the letter.


    It read: ¡°Victorique, are you all right? Teach told me you were sleeping with your stomach out like an idiot. Man, you¡¯re such a dummy. So, this is how you tie the obi¡­¡±


    Victorique crumpled the letter in her tiny hands.


    ¡°Achoo!¡±


    She used the letter to blow the snot off her nose. Then she rolled her small, pearly arms around and threw the crumpled piece of paper against the wall.


    ¡°Victorique,¡± Ms. Cecile called from the next room. ¡°Don¡¯t forget to write a reply for Kujou. He was very worried about you.¡±


    Victorique¡¯s green eyes narrowed in rage.


    Kazuya, who had been waiting anxiously, immediately called to Ms. Cecile when she came trotting out of the flower beds.


    ¡°How is she feeling?¡± he asked.


    ¡°She can¡¯t stop sneezing. And her face is red.¡±


    Ms. Cecile produced a folded paper from her pocket. It was a pretty piece of stationery paper with a faint image of roses in a birdcage. It smelled sweet, as if it had been soaked in flower-scented perfume.


    It was the first time he had received a letter from Victorique. Kazuya waited patiently for Ms. Cecile to leave. Once he was alone, he quickly opened the letter.


    It contained one word, written in huge letters.


    ¡°Idiot.¡±


    Kazuya¡¯s head dropped.


    He felt like an idiot for feeling excited. For a while, he just stood there with his head low, but when he realized that the train was arriving, he turned to leave.


    After a few steps, he turned to the direction of Victorique¡¯s special residence, supposedly located on the other side of the overgrown flowers.


    ¡°You¡¯re the idiot!¡± he shouted. There was no reply. He grew more and more pissed. ¡°I got no souvenirs to give to a meanie! You hear me?!¡±


    Kazuya¡¯s loud voice echoed hopelessly.


    He thought he heard a faint sneeze coming from inside, but there was only cruel silence afterwards.


    Looking over his shoulder several times, Kazuya walked away.

 Volume 3 - CH 2.1

    ¡ªBedroom 1¡ª


    The warm morning sun shone through the closed French windows of the bedroom. The bobbin lace curtains were half open, bringing light into the small room.


    ¡°Achoo!¡±


    Victorique was sleeping face down on a canopied bed. Her face was pressed against a large, frilled pillow, and her little head rocked with each occasional sneeze.


    Her long, golden hair spread loosely on the silk sheets. It shifted a little every time she sneezed.


    Victorique slowly lifted her head.


    Her cheeks were red, and her emerald eyes, usually ruthless, were moist as wet jewels.


    ¡°Achoo! Achoo! Achoo!¡±


    After sneezing in succession, her head plopped back down on the pillow.


    A flicker of what seemed like anger crossed her face.


    Her little lips, red like ripe cherries, parted. ¡°Kujou¡¯s gone out, huh?¡± she mumbled.


    The bedroom was quiet once more.


    Victorique¡¯s moist eyes again flashed with anger.


    ¡°The nerve of him¡­ Going out all excited¡­¡±


    She rolled over on her back and stared blankly at the mosaic glass lamp hanging from the ceiling. The heat blurred her vision, and she blinked repeatedly.


    Unable to take the heat, she closed her eyes. ¡°He went out alone¡­¡±


    Sulking, she pulled the feather comforter and slipped deeper into the bed, her tiny body disappearing under the covers. The luxurious but tiny bedroom appeared to be empty now.


    ¡°Achoo!¡± The comforter shook. ¡°Achoo! Achooooo!¡±


    After a series of sneezes, silence came.


    Then, an odd sound came from under the sheets. She was either crying, or her nose itched.


    Outside the window, a small bird perched on the flower bed chirped.


    Chapter 2: The Blue Rose


    The whistle blew.


    With his bag in hand, Kazuya scurried into the small station, the only one in the village, and hurried down the platform, which shook to the roar of the train that had arrived. It being the weekend, the train was packed with people traveling from the boondocks to the city. Villagers dressed in fashionable clothes raced to be the first on the train. Kazuya got in line and boarded through the big iron door.


    He walked down a narrow corridor and peered into the small glass windows of each compartment, but there were already three or four people sitting. Some were flipping through books, some were opening lunch boxes filled with roasted chicken and bread, and some were simply making themselves at home. Every section was crowded, so Kazuya changed his mind about finding a seat. And if he, a rare oriental boy, joined a lady with a child, he would be asked about his name, age, the school he was going to, among others. He had already experienced this on the first train ride to St. Marguerite Academy after arriving in Sauville.


    When Kazuya found a compartment with only one young man, who was looking out of the window with his chin in his hand, he decided to enter.


    He gently opened the metal door. ¡°May I?¡± he asked.


    Looking out the window, the man said coolly, ¡°Feel free.¡±


    Kazuya closed the door and took a seat across from the man. He looked like a noble, dressed in a very expensive-looking silk shirt, silver cuffs, and shiny boots. He looked more fashionable than some women. He was looking out the window in a grandiose pose, his legs crossed and his chin resting in his hand.


    The man sighed and turned his face to Kazuya.


    Kazuya gasped and half-rose to his feet.


    On the man¡¯s head was a shiny and pointy, golden drill-shaped hair. It was Inspector Grevil de Blois.


    When the inspector realized that it was Kazuya who entered the compartment, at first his mouth dropped open in surprise, then he frowned deeply.


    ¡°Tch. It¡¯s just you.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s my line! I think I¡¯ll just find a different compartment.¡±


    ¡°Everywhere else is full.¡±


    ¡°Right¡­¡±


    Kazuya reluctantly sat back down.


    Both he and the inspector seemed disheartened.


    After a few moments of silence, the inspector expressed what they both felt.


    ¡°To think we would run into each other here. How laughable.¡±


    ¡°You can say that again.¡±


    They remained silent for a while, looking out the window, checking their shopping list. After about thirty minutes, boredom struck.


    ¡°How about a chat, Kujou?¡± the inspector said.


    ¡°A chat? Us?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no one else here, unfortunately.¡±


    When Kazuya reluctantly nodded, the inspector turned to him with a serious face.


    The question was: what would they chat about? At first, they talked about world affairs and the recent Great War, but the inspector, who belonged to the aristocracy of Sauville, a powerful nation in Western Europe, and Kazuya, a bright young man from an island county in the Far East, had very different ways of thinking about everything. When Kazuya was about to win an argument, Inspector Blois quickly changed the subject.


    ¡°By the way, Kujou.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡± Kazuya scoffed. It had been a while since he beat someone in an argument, so he was all fired up.


    ¡°Speaking of the Great War, do you know why I¡¯m on my way to Saubreme right now?¡±


    ¡°How should I know? I¡¯m not Victorique. I don¡¯t know unless you tell me.¡± He snorted. ¡°I¡¯m just a simpleton, after all.¡± The sudden change in subject left him a little bemused.


    ¡°What are you getting all worked up about?¡± Inspector looked dumbfounded. ¡°Anyway, I¡¯m going to Saubreme because I¡¯ve been summoned by the Sauville police department. The current Superintendent-General, Mr. Signore, had climbed the ranks at a young age, but he¡¯s awfully dull. They are counting on me, a famed inspector, to solve a case that¡¯s giving them a headache.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re okay on your own?¡± Kazuya asked.


    Inspector Blois ignored his snide remark. ¡°What do you think Sauville lost during the Great War?¡±


    ¡°Lost? Well, we won the war, so I guess young soldiers¡¯ lives, historic buildings, and¡­¡±


    ¡°A royal treasure.¡± The inspector clicked his tongue bitterly. ¡°Sauville¡¯s royal treasury was ransacked during the height of the war. Countless works of art of historical value disappeared. It was long thought that they had since been bought by some nouveau riche from the New World, but it seems they have been in this kingdom all along.¡±


    Kazuya thought he had heard the same story recently from someone.


    ¡°Said artworks have been appearing on Sauville¡¯s black market over the last few years. And that¡¯s not all. Treasures of the Romanov family, which were supposedly brought to Europe just before the Russian Revolution in 1917 and then vanished, and treasures of ancient civilizations from the colonies have been appearing on the European black market. What¡¯s more, the black market is apparently located in Saubreme. There have been reports recently of Western European collectors visiting Sauville secretly. But they¡¯re elusive. That¡¯s why headquarters called me, a man with a brilliant mind, for help. How¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°How¡¯s what?¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it great?¡±


    ¡°Uh, I guess.¡± Kazuya nodded.


    The inspector shook his head with a sigh, then began carefully fixing his pointy, drill-shaped hair. He watched Kazuya, looking bored. He then pulled a pocket watch from his pocket and opened it.


    ¡°Still an hour to go,¡± he said gravely.


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡±


    ¡°Your turn, Kujou. Share something interesting.¡±


    ¡°No way!¡± Kazuya turned away. He shifted his attention to the scenery outside the window.


    The train had left the lush greenery of the mountains and was gradually approaching the city. There were less greens now and more flatlands. Cars and horse-drawn carriages rolled past rows of houses.


    Shopping alone is kinda lonely, Kazuya thought.


    Then he remembered the time he went out on a trip with his little friend Victorique.


    Strangely enough, the irritation he felt earlier when he read Victorique¡¯s reply had vanished. He recalled the first time he went out with Victorique and her bizarre behavior back then.


    She didn¡¯t know how to buy a ticket, didn¡¯t know how much money she needed, and kept wandering left and right. While on the train, she looked out the window in wonder, and when they arrived at the city station, she would point at all sorts of things and ask him what they were. She was shocked when he whistled to hail a carriage.


    At that time, Kazuya did not know anything about Victorique¡¯s situation, so he asked her if she didn¡¯t go out much. Immediately after, Victorique¡¯s mood turned sour and she fell silent. But he found her pouty face adorable too.


    The second time they went out, Victorique was in an awful mood from the beginning, ignoring Kazuya on the way. But in the end, Victorique told him that they would go back together.


    That was enough for Kazuya. He would get mad at her mean and sharp tongue, but a single word from her would magically make his anger go away.


    Sensing a gaze, Kazuya raised his head and found Inspector Blois staring at him.


    ¡°Why are you the one who¡¯s here with me?¡± Kazuya mumbled.


    ¡°That¡¯s my line.¡±


    Sad thoughts seemed to be running through the inspector¡¯s head; his eyes, the same green as his half-sister¡¯s, were slightly moist.


    He shot Kazuya a resentful glare. ¡°Your presence really pisses me off,¡± he said.


    ¡°The feeling¡¯s mutual.¡±


    ¡°You look so dull.¡±


    ¡°Right back at you.¡±


    Carrying two grumpy men, the train rattled along.


    An hour later, the train finally arrived at its destination¡ªSaubreme station.

 Volume 3 - CH 2.2

    Named Charles de Gilet Station after the then King of Sauville who built it in the middle of the previous century, the station in Saubreme was an extravagant and gigantic structure that showed how powerful this small kingdom was.


    Ceilings fitted with glass. Magnificent pillars made of black bricks. Light from the bright, early-summer sun fell onto the whole station. A large round clock sat above the steel overpass connecting the platforms.


    People looked as small as peas, constantly streaming across. When a train arrived, countless passengers disembarked and crossed the platform all at once. Porters in red uniforms carried passengers¡¯ travel bags. A feathered bonnet on the head of a female passenger wobbled. A noble gentleman passed by, his expensive-looking walking stick that resembled an animal head clicking on the floor. A child tottered along, pulled by their mother.


    A huge structure made of thick, sturdy glass and black iron. Luxurious and practical at the same time. An architectural style that had gained prominence in modern times. It seemed to symbolize the current state of Saubreme, a city that grew along a river. Home to the prestigious royal family, Saubreme was one of the top economic hubs in Europe, and a rapidly-developing industrial city, where the smell of iron and coal permeated the air.


    ¡°Jacqueline!¡± Inspector Blois shouted out of nowhere.


    Kazuya jumped. When he turned around, he saw the inspector calling a young woman passing by on the platform. She was wearing a fine and stylish dress, the kind that would normally be worn by a more senior woman. Her straight brown hair, which lacked a bit of luster, was tied up in a simple bun.


    The woman turned around and backed away, startled by the inspector¡¯s hairdo.


    When he got a good look on her face, Inspector Blois looked disappointed. ¡°Sorry, I got the wrong person.¡±


    The woman smiled and walked away.


    ¡°Who¡¯s Jacqueline?¡± Kazuya asked.


    The inspector pretended not to hear. He walked on, up the steel overpass and toward the big ticket gate. Walking in the same direction as him, Kazuya inclined his head, wondering what that was all about.


    The inspector looked somewhat dejected. His pointy, drill-shaped hair was a little wilted.


    As they exited Charles de Gilet Station, glaring sunlight shone on their faces, obscuring the city of Sauville for a moment. When their eyes finally adjusted, there was a huge intersection in front of the station, with horse-drawn carriages and shiny automobiles speeding around the bends without slowing down.


    Windows lined both sides of the wide sidewalks. Gentlemen with their walking sticks and gorgeous ladies with parasols in their hands walked in and out of stores. The area in front of the station was packed with streets, stores, and tall buildings.


    Kazuya¡¯s eyes were drawn to one of the windows. It was a pipe shop, its signboard barely standing out among the glamorous stores. The window was lined with ceramic and iron pipes of various sizes, as well as pipe rests. A small, glittering women¡¯s shoe, like a glass slipper, was on display. When he realized that it was a shoe-shaped pipe stand made of jade, he opened the door and asked the shopkeeper the price. It was affordable for Kazuya, who usually saved his allowance and avoided wasting money, so he bought it without hesitation.


    ¡°It¡¯s for a girl, so please put a ribbon on it,¡± he said. ¡°Oh, that red ribbon.¡±


    The clerk looked at the pipe rest. ¡°It¡¯s for a girl?¡± he asked curiously.


    Just as Kazuya happily exited the store, the door of the store next door also opened and out came Inspector Blois, who had shopped for something as well. He was in good spirits. The two looked at each other, and their faces turned grim.


    The inspector glanced at the package in Kazuya¡¯s hand, and snorted.


    Kazuya looked at the inspector¡¯s hand too. He was holding a rather expensive-looking, antique porcelain doll. It had curly blond hair and big eyes, and wrapped in a dress of laces. Kazuya frowned. The first time he went to the police station at the village, the inspector¡¯s room was full of dolls like this one. He even put one on his lap.


    ¡°Can¡¯t say I¡¯m surprised,¡± Kazuya said.


    ¡°Mind your own business, silly face.¡±


    The inspector pointed to a towering brick building on the other side of the street. Several uniformed police officers were guarding the gate.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to exhibit my brilliant intellect at the station now. See you later, Kujou.¡± Inspector Blois was about to walk away when he stopped, remembering something. He looked back at Kazuya. ¡°Be careful,¡± he said.


    ¡°Be careful of what?¡±


    ¡°As you can see, Sauville has undergone rapid modernization in recent years. Roads have been improved, the number of tall buildings has increased dramatically, and tourists are pouring in from all over the place. But a bustling city means increased criminal activity.¡±


    Kazuya looked around, and Inspector Blois frowned.


    ¡°Cities are terrifying. They can be glamorous and fascinating, but sometimes they open their big mouths and swallow up visitors. Then the city closes its mouth as if nothing happened, and those who were swallowed never come back.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m saying it¡¯s become much more dangerous here. Have you heard the rumors of those who vanished in the dark?¡±


    ¡°No¡­¡±


    ¡°Over the past few years, there has been a series of incidents in Saubreme where people suddenly disappear. Mostly young women and children. They disappear after a shopping trip to a department store, or on the way to the police station with a lost child. The pattern varies. The police department has received numerous complaints from the families of women who disappeared. I¡¯m guessing some of them just ran away from home. Still, an unusual number of people are disappearing into the darkness of the city. You best be careful.¡±


    ¡°O-Okay¡­¡±


    Kazuya suddenly remembered the book that Avril was carrying.


    ¡°A noblewoman enters a fitting room in a department store. But when the clerk opened the door, all that was left was a bloody head.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a story about a beautifully-dressed little girl crying. People call out to her, thinking she¡¯s lost, and then disappear. When they turn a corner, they¡¯re gone, and only their clothes are left.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s also a murderer who dresses as a hobo. He hangs dead children¡¯s bodies inside his old clothes.¡±


    I bet the horror stories in that book were based on actual disappearances in Saubreme.


    Inspector Blois took a pocket watch from his pocket and checked the time. ¡°I¡¯ll see you around, Kujou,¡± he said in a hurry.


    He headed toward a large building¡ªthe Sauville Metropolitan Police Department. He seemed to be used to the city; he deftly crossed the street, weaving through the stream of carriages, and disappeared into the building.


    After watching the inspector go, Kazuya started walking.


    There were many buildings, carriages, automobiles, and people in Saubreme. It was truly crowded. Everyone was going too fast. Perhaps because it was still mid-morning, the people hurrying along the sidewalks to get somewhere were all dressed in simple, practical clothing. They probably worked for companies in the area. Occasionally, a noble in an extravagant attire or three-piece suit would disembark from a carriage and disappear into an upscale tailor¡¯s shop or gallery. Tourists of various skin color passed by. They walked around with maps in their hands, pointing from place to place.


    Homeless people clothed in rags lurked around every corner, holding out dirty tin cans to passersby and begging for coins. There were old men and women. Sometimes there would be a child younger than Kazuya. Sauville, with its long history and rapid development, was a place where people from all walks of life gathered. It was as if they lived their lives at different paces.


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    Kazuya was nearing the Sauville royal palace. Only its round roof retained its medieval beauty in this modernized city.


    The flag of Sauville fluttered in the square in front of the palace. Guards in gold and red uniforms, looking like toy soldiers, strutted along systematically. A scene you¡¯d expect from Saubreme, home of the royal family and a tourist destination.


    ¡°I thought it was somewhere around here,¡± Kazuya muttered.


    He looked around, searching for the luxury department store Jeantan, his destination. It should be a large building across from the palace square. When he opened his bag to pull out a map, he accidentally dropped his wallet. He managed to pick it up before it rolled onto the street, but his coins spilled out.


    ¡°Nine five seven,¡± said a small voice.


    Kazuya, picking up the coins, looked to the direction of the voice. People passing by did not care about the coins that someone else had dropped. He frowned, wondering where the voice came from. Then in the shadows created by building decors, he saw a pair of glinting eyes.


    ¡°What is that?¡±


    Kazuya stood up. A small figure with ominous dark eyes slowly emerged from the darkness


    It was a child, only about ten years old, wearing dirty, ragged clothes. His toes stuck out of his sneakers. He had blue eyes, probably Caucasian, but he was so dirty that Kazuya could not make out the color of his hair or skin.


    ¡°The amount you dropped,¡± he said in a low voice. ¡°I was watching.¡±


    What a strange kid, Kazuya thought.


    ¡°If you were watching, you could have helped me.¡±


    ¡°If I helped out of the kindness of my heart, you would say that I pocketed some of the change and beat me up or hand me over to the cops. I vowed never to be nice to people.¡±


    His dark eyes went to Kazuya¡¯s hand. He was staring at it even when he wasn¡¯t holding anything.


    The child lifted his head. ¡°Where are you headed? You don¡¯t know the way, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m looking for Jeantan. It¡¯s supposed to be around here.¡±


    ¡°Not even close, you bumpkin. It¡¯s a long walk from here. It¡¯s kinda hard to explain. I can take you there if you want.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Give me a piece of paper.¡±


    ¡°Paper?¡±


    The child stamped his foot and pointed to Kazuya¡¯s wallet.


    ¡°The paper inside that thing. Give me one, and I¡¯ll show you the way.¡±


    ¡°Ah¡­¡±


    Kazuya hesitated at first, but decided that it would be cheaper than taking a horse-drawn carriage, so he handed the child one of the bills. With a surprisingly quick motion, the child snatched the bill and hid it somewhere in his ragged clothes like magic. He then backed away, covering his head with both arms, as though trying to block a hit, and pointed to a building on the other side of the sidewalk.


    ¡°It¡¯s over there.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s Jeantan. See you around, dumb Chinese boy.¡±


    ¡°Crap¡­ He got me. Hey, wait!¡±


    Kazuya tried to chase after him, but the child quickly retreated and disappeared behind a building. Upon checking, he saw a small hole that looked like a drainage ditch leading underground, just big enough for a small child to fit through.


    ¡°I¡¯m not Chinese!¡± Kazuya screamed.


    He pulled himself together and walked away. The building across the street was huge and made of bricks, shaped like an octagonal cylinder. He failed to notice it earlier, but it looked old and prestigious, decorated with octagonal flags that bore purple ribbons and the word Jeantan. Shoppers with shiny, purple paper bags were coming out of the building.


    As soon as Kazuya tried to cross the street, something grabbed him by the ankle. A large, cold, dry hand, like that of the dead, gripped his ankle tightly and would not let go. Startled, Kazuya looked down.


    It was an old woman dressed in layers of rags. Her hair stood back as if blown up by the wind, and her skin was dry and stained black. She was barefoot. She had black hair and black eyes.


    Holding Kazuya¡¯s ankle, the old woman cried in accented French, ¡°My daughter was eaten!¡±


    Kazuya gaped at the old woman in shock. The old woman stared back at him.


    Inside her bulging ragged clothes were three pieces of what looked like rolled cloth swaying with the old woman¡¯s movements. They all swung in different directions, and looked somewhat creepy. Kazuya suddenly recalled one of the stories that Avril had told him.


    ¡°There¡¯s also a murderer who dresses as a hobo. He hangs dead children¡¯s bodies inside his old clothes.¡±


    No way, Kazuya thought. Still, it¡¯s a stunningly accurate representation of the story.


    ¡°My daughter was eaten by that thing!¡± the woman shouted. Her trembling, blackened fingers pointed straight ahead¡ªto Jeantan.


    The octagonal building glittered under the early-summer sun.


    Kazuya regarded the old woman.


    She was about to say something else, when a young doorman at the entrance of Jeantan came running toward them. He kicked the old woman as hard as he could, cursing at her. The old woman let out a pitiful shriek and scrambled down the cobblestone street like a wild animal.


    The doorman turned to the stunned Kazuya. ¡°I apologize, sir,¡± he said. ¡°That woman does that to all our customers.¡±


    ¡°Does she always do that?¡± Kazuya asked, still shocked.


    ¡°Every day. We get rid of her when we notice.¡±


    Then that story must have been based on what¡¯s happening in Saubreme. That old woman must be the model.


    ¡°We truly apologize for the trouble.¡± The young doorman led Kazuya into the octagonal brick building and opened the double glass door. ¡°Welcome to Jeantan. There is nothing you can¡¯t get here. Please, come in.¡±

 Volume 3 - CH 2.3

    The building was high-ceilinged, spacious, and uniformly white. The vast floor was filled with piles of goods, and expensive jewelry, teddy bears, women¡¯s underwear, and other items were sold in individual stores, some of which were separated by glass doors.


    The staff were all young men and women with pleasing apperance. They were of various nationalities, including a young Scandinavian man with chiseled features and a young girl with exotic olive skin.


    Kazuya asked the young Scandinavian man about the location of the Blue Rose. In broken French, he told him that it was at the far end of the department store. Kazuya wondered why such a popular product was being sold way in the back, but he followed the directions and took the elevator to the top floor, then headed for the end of the corridor.


    The higher the floor, the more classy the stores became. The white corridor went on and on. Despite the glittering signboards, there were no customers around.


    ¡°Is this the place?¡±


    Kazuya stopped in front of a door. It was definitely the place the man told him about.


    It was a room with no signage, and the door was not made of glass, but of sturdy oak. Doubtful, Kazuya gently opened the door. It looked like a store. Checkered tiles on the floor. Brown walls. A chandelier in the shape of a flower shone in the elegant room.


    Sparkling jeweled watches, crown-shaped ornaments, and jeweled daggers were displayed inside glass cases.


    There wasn¡¯t anyone around. Puzzled, Kazuya stepped inside.


    ¡°There it is!¡±


    A Blue Rose paperweight was sitting carelessly on top of a glass case. A glass replica of the real blue diamond, it was transparent and sparkly, with a wonderful shape reminiscent of a large rose. It was just big enough to fit in the palm of Kazuya¡¯s hand. If it were a real diamond, it would cost a fortune.


    There were also porcelain plates, brooches, and finely-crafted combs. Kazuya picked them up and studied them.


    ¡°Who¡¯s there?!¡±


    Startled, Kazuya dropped all the items in his hands. He quickly grabbed the porcelain plate. The paperweight, brooch, and comb fell to the floor, but none of them broke despite the loud noise they made. He stroked his chest in relief.


    ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry!¡± Kazuya said.


    Picking up the items he dropped, he looked up to see three people standing there. One was a large man in a well-tailored suit. Seemingly in his mid-thirties, he was tanned and had a well-toned body. His gaze was sharp.


    Behind him were a man and a woman in the purple uniforms of Jeantan¡¯s sales staff. The man was staring at Kazuya, while the woman had her head inclined.


    The large man gave Kazuya a reproachful look. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°I, uh¡­ came here to buy a Blue Rose.¡±


    The two men looked at each other.


    ¡°Come back at night,¡± the older one said.


    ¡°A-At night?¡± Kazuya looked puzzled. But they¡¯re open the whole day. ¡°Why?¡± he asked.


    ¡°You wanted to buy a Blue Rose, no?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Three of them.¡±


    The two men slowly exchanged glances. The female staff whispered something to them from behind. The two men nodded.


    ¡°Three Blue Rose paperweights?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Head to the stationery section on the second floor, then.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­¡±


    Kazuya left the room feeling confused.


    He was lost.


    It was not until a while after he rode the elevator down to the first floor and started walking down the dark corridor that he realized he had lost his way.


    As he hurried back down the corridor, it dawned on him. When he left the room with the glass cases, he had inadvertently taken a different elevator than the one he had taken when he came up. He wondered if that was a service elevator. The lighting was dim, the floor was covered with strange reddish-black stains, and there was an odd smell that permeated the air.


    The corridor where the elevator descended was also poorly-lit and very narrow. It felt suffocating. Simple, unadorned gas lamps hung in wide intervals from the high wall like sickles, illuminating Kazuya with a pale light. Between the lights there was a shadowy darkness, so deep that it was hard to see where wall and floor met.


    The gas lamps flickered uneasily. It looked like they would go out at any moment. Feeling scared, Kazuya hastened back the way he came.


    Then he heard a voice. He looked at his feet. The voice seemed to be coming from under the floor. He stopped in his tracks and listened closely, but he couldn¡¯t hear it anymore.


    He resumed walking, when he heard it again.


    ¡°I knew it! I hear a voice¡­ A girl.¡±


    Kazuya stopped again. He looked up at the ceiling. He thought he heard it from above this time. The ceiling was empty, of course, and the only thing he saw was some pattern made by a reddish-black stain of dirty water or something. It looked slightly like a human face.


    ¡°There are demons here!¡± someone shouted in his ear.


    Kazuya yelped and turned around. There was no one there. At the edge of the corridor, there was only a pale blue darkness, shifting under the gas lamps.


    Demons?


    The gas lamp suddenly hissed loudly. Blue flames flared up to nearly the ceiling for a moment, illuminating the far end of the dark hallway. He spotted long, white objects tangled with each other.


    Kazuya yelped. ¡°¡­People?¡±


    Several large, wide-open eyes were staring vacantly at him. The white things were limbs. Their bodies were twisted and entangled in an impossible manner, becoming one distorted mass, glaring at Kazuya resentfully with countless wide-open eyes. He cautiously approached them.


    ¡°Oh¡­¡± He stroked his chest.


    What appeared to be a pile of fresh corpses was, upon closer inspection, all mannequins. Some were lying in their storefront poses, others were missing their limbs, and some only had their torsos.


    At the far end of the pile of mannequins were a disorganized stack of crates. Through the half-open wooden boxes, Kazuya glimpsed white mannequin legs.


    There was a peculiar reddish-black stain on the floor, the same as the one on the elevator. The stain was dry, seemingly old, with cotton-like dust on top of it.


    Curious, Kazuya approached the crate with the closed lid at the far end. He opened it gently.


    Inside the crate was a mannequin, curled up in a fetal position. Its long, sand-colored hair concealed its body. Before he closed the lid, he realized something odd.


    Why was this mannequin¡¯s eyes closed?


    A chill ran down his spine.


    The mannequin¡¯s eyes snapped open.


    Kazuya jumped and shrieked. Before he could back away, the mannequin spoke.


    ¡°There are demons here!¡±


    It was a thick Russian accent. Her eyes were a deep purple, and glassy like a drop of thick milk. The girl sprang up from the crate and grabbed Kazuya¡¯s wrists with both hands as he tried to escape. She was terribly strong. So strong, in fact, that it was hard to believe she was a girl.


    But her hands were shaking violently. Her pearly teeth were chattering as she cried ¡°Demons!¡± over and over again in an accented French. She spun around in an odd manner; one would think she wasn¡¯t even human. With each twirl of her head, her sand-colored hair bounced up in the darkness and smacked Kazuya¡¯s face.


    ¡°Wh-What¡¯s¡­ What¡¯s wrong with you?!¡± Swallowing hard, Kazuya managed to ask the question.


    But the girl did not listen, and instead, in a thick Russian accent, said, ¡°Demons! There are demons here!¡± She screamed again.


    She then pulled Kazuya and opened her thin, colorless lips. Two small, but pointed canine teeth peeked out from behind her lips, glinting in the pale light of the gas lamps.


    ¡°C-Call the police,¡± she said. ¡°There are demons here. Lots of them! They¡¯re gonna kill me!¡±


    ¡°What? Did something happen here? In that case, I¡¯ll call the staff.¡±


    ¡°No. Call the police. The police!¡±


    The girl released her grip on Kazuya and grasped her own neck. She groaned loudly, as if she was having trouble breathing. Kazuya backed away from the girl.


    The gas lamps hissed again, flickered, then went out.


    ¡°H-Hello?¡± Kazuya called out to the darkness.


    There was no reply.


    Kazuya started running. He didn¡¯t know what was going on. He just wanted out of there.


    As he stumbled out of Jeantan, Kazuya whistled to hail a horse-drawn cab. The small, one-horse carriage was driven by an old man with a large scar running diagonally from right to left across his face.


    Kazuya quickly got in. ¡°To the Sauville Police Department, in front of Charles de Gilet station!¡±


    The man nodded, his scarred face contorting.


    Snap!


    A whip cracked and the horse moved.


    Kazuya looked up at the octagonal building. As he wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, he noticed two blue eyes staring at him from behind the building¡¯s exterior decorations.


    Small eyes. The eyes of a child. The one from earlier.


    The peculiar street urchin that tricked him.


    Kazuya recalled the child mumbling ¡°957¡±. For a moment he wondered what the child was talking about, but there were more pressing matters at hand.


    The child was staring at Kazuya. His lips seemed to curve into a smile.

 Volume 3 - CH 3.1

    ¡ªBedroom 2¡ª


    ¡°Achoo!¡±


    It was a beautiful sunny day outside, and the sun was beating down on the intricate gardens spread across the campus of St. Marguerite Academy. At the farthest end of the gardens, past a hidden labyrinth of flowerbeds, was a small building¡ªa candy house of some sorts, it seemed¡ªthat lay silent and still. The blinding midday sun barely penetrated through its windows.


    The bedroom was dim, bobbin lace curtains draping over the French windows.


    The feather comforter on the canopied bed was bulging. It squirmed a little. The bulge was small enough to make one wonder if it was a kitten that was hiding underneath.


    ¡°Achoo! Achoo! Achoo!¡±


    The bulge quivered with every sneeze.


    Victorique was dreaming under the covers.


    In the dream, she was in a dark, circular room, books covering the walls. A small rocking chair, a table, and a bed peeked out from between the piles of books.


    There was no exit. It was the room in Marquis de Blois¡¯ tower, where Victorique had once been locked up. The round floor seemed to float in the air. Only a precarious ladder staircase from far below connected her to the world. Three times a day, a young maid brought tea, meals, and extravagant dresses. Once a day, the old butler came with a stack of new books.


    In her dream, Victorique, who was twice as small as she was now, had her eyes downward. Wrapped in an elegant dress, she was reading a book on her lap, relying on the light shining through a square skylight far above her head.


    I¡¯m bored. Bored. Bring me more books. More.


    Fearing the wrath of the Gray Wolf, the Blois family continued carrying piles of books up the tower. Victorique, a child of only ten years old or so, kept moaning ominously, stamping her feet on the floor. Her husky voice seemed to shake the whole tower itself.


    I¡¯m bored. Bored. Give me something. Something to free me from this everlasting world of boredom. Give it to me!


    Holding their breath, the Blois family shuddered as the creepy, husky voice echoed throughout the tower, night after night.


    ¡°Achoo!¡±


    After a rather loud sneeze, the covers rustled. A small golden head peeked out from inside the comforter.


    Usually her glossy hair cascaded down her back like an untied velvet turban, but today it was such a mess that it was hard to tell which was her face and which was the back of her head. When she sneezed again, her hair bounced, revealing a little bit of Victorique¡¯s face.


    Her rosy cheeks were crimson and puffed up.


    Victorique moaned as she rolled across the bed. ¡°Pain¡­ so much pain¡­¡±


    Breathing hotly, she reached for something on the bedside table with shaky hands. Her lips, redder than usual, parted.


    ¡°I¡­ I¡­¡± Her dream¡ªno, the distant memory tugged at her. ¡°I¡¯m booooored,¡± she mumbled in her husky voice.


    She reached for the pile of thick books nearby with quivering hands. Her vision was a little blurry. When she finally managed to pull the book into her hand, a broad smile appeared on her red face, and she started flipping through the pages.


    A second later, she looked teary-eyed.


    ¡°I already¡­ read this yesterday!¡±


    She reached for a different book from the pile.


    ¡°Aaaaahh!¡±


    Her blurry vision caused the entire stack of books to collapse. There was a series of thuds as all the books fell on the carpeted floor. Victorique hurried to get up, but she had no strength to do so. She peered over the bed and stretched her trembling hand, but she couldn¡¯t reach the books.


    Victorique¡¯s face twisted in frustration. She turned over.


    ¡°Kujou,¡± she groaned. ¡°Pick them up.¡± She sniffed. ¡°I¡¯m bored. So bored.¡±


    ¡°Kujou,¡± she groaned once more, and in a voice tinged with sadness, she added, ¡°He¡¯s not here, huh?¡±


    She burrowed herself into the covers. The small, opulent bedroom was quiet now, devoid of human presence.


    Outside the window, a small bird flapped its wings.


    Ms. Cecile came through the flowerbed maze. She was carrying her teaching materials, textbooks, and a notebook.


    As she stepped into the candy house, she peered into the small bedroom with a worried frown.


    ¡°How are you feeling?¡± she asked. ¡°Oh, my.¡±


    Victorique was hunched up in the middle of the big bed, her face buried in a book, forcing herself to read. Her hot breaths brushed the pages.


    Ms. Cecile looked aghast. ¡°You have to rest.¡±


    ¡°Great timing, Cecile.¡±


    Victorique, her face crimson, rose unsteadily and pointed to the book she was reading.


    ¡°I was just reading a journal written by a certain priest in the Middle Ages,¡± she said breathily. ¡°Achoo! He was a young priest who liked keeping a diary, which has served as a good source of information about life in those days.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡±


    Victorique groaned at Ms. Cecile¡¯s lack of interest, but regained her composure and continued.


    ¡°A problem arose on the night a bishop from the capital arrived at the temple located deep in the mountains of Sauville.¡±


    ¡°Ahuh¡­¡±


    ¡°Hngh¡­ According to his journal, on such an important night, there was a theft in the village. Silverware was stolen from the house of a wealthy merchant. The merchant saw a man from his window running away.¡±


    ¡°Oh, no. Silverware is expensive.¡±


    ¡°Keep quiet and listen. A pig was also stolen from a farmhouse. The villagers were distressed. Why did these incidents have to occur the night the bishop was in the village? They wanted to show how pious they were. Outraged, the villagers immediately apprehended the likely suspects for each incident.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s great,¡± Ms. Cecile remarked.


    ¡°The men who allegedly stole the silverware were drifters. The villagers believed that they planned to sell the stolen goods in a different town. And the pig was allegedly stolen by a poor farm boy.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°They were about to be judged by the angry villagers. The young priest described what happened that terrible dark night in great detail.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Right when they were about to be judged, the bishop arrived at the village. And then¡­¡±


    Ms. Cecile took the thick book that Victorique was holding.


    Victorique stared at the teacher with surprise. ¡°What are you doing?!¡±


    ¡°Sick people should stay in bed. I¡¯m confiscating your book.¡±


    Victorique looked like she was about to cry. ¡°S-Stop. I¡¯m still in the middle of my story. You dunderhead!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a dunderhead, I¡¯m your teacher. Get some rest now.¡±


    Ms. Cecile held the book high above her head. Victorique tried to retrieve the book, but small as she was, she couldn¡¯t reach it. She bit her red lips in frustration.


    ¡°I hate you!¡± she shouted.


    ¡°And I hate sick people who don¡¯t rest.¡±


    ¡°Kujou would¡­¡± Victorique¡¯s swollen cheeks puffed up even more. ¡°Kujou would have listened,¡± she said melancholically.


    The teacher chuckled. ¡°Yes, he would have. But I¡¯m not Kujou, so I won¡¯t listen to you. Get under the covers and close your eyes. Don¡¯t move around! I¡¯ll be back later.¡±


    Ms. Cecile hurried out of the bedroom.


    Chapter 3: Those Who Vanish Into the Darkness


    ¡°What on earth are you talking about, Kujou?¡±


    Sauville Metropolitan Police Department.


    The large brick building¡¯s exterior was generously adorned, the entranceway lavishly decorated, but the interior was quite simple and practical. Footsteps echoed endlessly through the wide corridors as the staff bustled about.


    In a spacious conference room on the fifth floor, Inspector Grevil de Blois, his golden drill-shaped hair glistening, was leaning back on a chair with a laced porcelain doll at his side. He seemed to be in the middle of a speech. He was wearing a frown, irked by Kazuya¡¯s uninvited presence.


    Around him sat a group of rugged-looking men, detectives from the police department. Kazuya whispered the situation to the inspector.


    ¡°What does that even mean?¡± Inspector Blois huffed. He flipped the doll and peered inside its dress. Shocked, Kazuya watched him from a distance.


    ¡°I see she¡¯s wearing underwear.¡±


    ¡°Inspector! Listen to me!¡± Kazuya bellowed. ¡°A girl in such a place asking for the police is weird, no matter how you slice it. There¡¯s clearly something going on here!¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Inspector!¡±


    It didn¡¯t seem like Inspector Blois would budge even a little. He began pulling on the doll¡¯s undergarment.


    The door to the conference room opened, and a man entered.


    He had shaggy hair and his out-of-fashion suit said he didn¡¯t care about what he wore. It was hard to estimate his age¡ªhe seemed somewhere between early twenties to mid-forties. He was wearing a pair of oddly-shaped square glasses, but behind those glasses, Kazuya noticed, were narrow eyes that were startlingly bright.


    The moment the man stepped inside, Inspector Blois sprang up to his feet and pushed the porcelain doll to Kazuya. Astonished, Kazuya fixed the doll¡¯s undergarment.


    ¡°Superintendent General Signore!¡± one of the detectives said.


    The man of ambiguous age was apparently Mr. Signore, the Superintendent General of the Sauville Police Department. Mr. Signore looked at Inspector Blois and the oriental boy by his side, who was earnestly fiddling with a doll¡¯s underwear.


    ¡°Long time no see, Grevil,¡± the man said. ¡°Mostly because you never come to visit. Didn¡¯t you receive my invitations?¡±


    ¡°Uhm, I had a lot on my plate¡­¡±


    Kazuya was surprised. Apparently the two were longtime acquaintances. But while Mr. Signore spoke without reservation, Inspector Blois, for some odd reason, had his gaze downward the whole time.


    Come to think of it, on the train to Saubreme, he mentioned Mr. Signore being a dull man¡­


    ¡°By the way, Grevil, I¡¯ve heard about your exploits as a police officer. I look forward to what you have to offer in this case. Saubreme is quite unsafe at the moment.¡±


    ¡°Is that so? It¡¯s different from the countryside, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°That, it is. As in all of Europe, since the end of the last century, heretical practices and unfamiliar cultures from the colonies have become popular among the common folk. It has been on the wane since the Great War, but there are reports of Satanists now lurking in Saubreme, so we¡¯ve been very busy with that. But from what I¡¯ve heard from your accomplishments, crime is not limited to urban areas. It must be the times. I would like you to share your exceptional case-solving abilities with us.¡±


    Inspector Blois nodded proudly. Kazuya looked around. The other detectives in the conference room seemed to respect Inspector Blois as well. They were listening to their conversation with proper posture.


    Kazuya nudged Inspector Blois and whispered, ¡°Now, Inspector!¡±


    ¡°Now, what?¡± the inspector whispered back.


    ¡°Jeantan. There¡¯s definitely something going on there.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m busy right now.¡±


    ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll tell them about Victorique¡¯s Wellspring of Wisdom.¡±


    The inspector dragged Kazuya to the end of the room and began cursing in a whisper. Not to be outdone, Kazuya whispered back. They argued for a while, but eventually the inspector gave in.


    ¡°Fine,¡± the inspector said. ¡°We¡¯ll suspend the meeting and head to Jeantan.¡±


    Mr. Signore and the detectives¡¯ curious gazes darted between Inspector Blois as Kazuya dragged him out of the conference room, and the porcelain doll sitting on his desk.

 Volume 3 - CH 3.2

    Arriving in a horse-drawn carriage in front of the huge octagonal brick building¡ªthe department store Jeantan¡ªKazuya, Inspector Blois, and two officers pushed their way past the doorman standing upright in front of the glass door and entered.


    The purple-uniformed sales staff of various nationalities looked at them, moving only their heads in unison. It was as though a flock of birds perched on a tree was startled by a sound, all looking in the same direction. Their faces were as expressionless as Noh masks.


    Inspector Blois stood frozen for a moment, bewildered, then pulled himself together and turned to Kazuya. ¡°What now, Kujou?¡±


    Kazuya nodded and ran his eyes over the faces of the sales staff. When he spotted the good-looking Scandinavian man, he pointed at him.


    ¡°First, I asked him where the Blue Rose paperweights were sold.¡±


    The young man cocked his head. ¡°I apologize, sir, but I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve seen you before,¡± he said skeptically in broken French.


    Kazuya remembered his Scandinavian accent. He stared back at the man, confused himself. ¡°What? You just talked to me a while ago. I asked you where the Blue Rose was.¡±


    ¡°You must be mistaken. I¡¯m afraid we¡¯ve never met.¡±


    The man insisted that he didn¡¯t know the boy.


    Kazuya was perplexed.


    ¡°Is there a problem?¡± asked a low voice.


    Kazuya turned around and saw another familiar face.


    A classy suit and a tanned, well-toned body. An imposing man in his mid-thirties, he was the one who shouted at Kazuya when he wandered into the room of glass cases on the top floor.


    ¡°I¡¯m the owner,¡± he said. ¡°My name is Garnier. What can I do for you?¡±


    The name Mr. Garnier rang a bell to Kazuya. A successful young man who made his fortune after the end of the Great War, he purchased the long-established department store Jeantan a few years ago.


    ¡°We met upstairs, didn¡¯t we?¡± Kazuya said. ¡°Well, after that¡ª¡±


    ¡°I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about.¡± Mr. Garnier, too, tilted his head curiously.


    Kazuya¡¯s breath caught in his throat. The young sales staff slowly gathered behind Mr. Garnier, tilting their heads in unison. Their faces were devoid of emotion, yet somehow their expressionless features conveyed immeasurable malice.


    ¡°We met on the top floor, the room with the oak door,¡± Kazuya said, flustered. ¡°There were a lot of glass cases inside!¡±


    Perplexed, Mr. Garnier studied Kazuya curiously, then looked at Inspector Blois. ¡°What is this oriental boy saying?¡±


    ¡°I, uhh¡­¡± Panicking, Inspector Blois nudged Kazuya. ¡°Do something!¡±


    An eerie silence descended. The staff slowly surrounded Kazuya, Inspector Blois, and the two officers.


    Mr. Garnier laughed. ¡°Only staff is allowed in that room,¡± he said.


    ¡°I went in by mistake,¡± Kazuya replied. ¡°I was following that guy¡¯s directions.¡±


    Mr. Garnier turned to the young staff, but he shook his head, as though saying he had no idea what the boy was talking about.


    ¡°That can¡¯t be right,¡± Kazuya said.


    ¡°So what kind of room was it, then?¡±


    ¡°Uhm¡­¡±


    ¡°If you really entered the room, you should be able to describe it!¡± Mr. Garnier¡¯s voice rose all of a sudden.


    Kazuya flinched, but he stood his ground. ¡°Okay, then. Let¡¯s see¡­ the door was made of oak. There were many glass cases inside. The wallpaper was brown and the floor had checkered tiles. There was also a chandelier with a flower motif.¡± He turned to Inspector Blois. ¡°Let¡¯s check that room first. Then you¡¯ll know that I¡¯m telling the truth.¡±


    The inspector nodded reluctantly and gestured to his two accompanying officers.


    A flicker of unease flashed across Mr. Garnier¡¯s face.


    Kazuya took the elevator to the top floor with the inspector and the officers. Mr. Garnier and three young staff also joined them.


    After exiting the elevator, they walked down a long corridor flanked by glass doors on both sides. They then entered a room at the far end, the only one with an oak door.


    ¡°First, I entered this room,¡± Kazuya said. ¡°And then¡­¡± He froze.


    It was a completely different room from the one before.


    The wallpaper, which should have been an elegant brown, had changed to a gold one with garish patterns. The floor was covered with a crimson carpet, and the chandelier was not flower-shaped but ornamented with gold. The glass cases remained the same, but the decor was slightly different.


    Inspector Blois turned to Kazuya with a look of distrust. ¡°What happened to the brown walls, the checkered tiles, and the flower chandelier?¡±


    ¡°Th-This can¡¯t be right!¡± Kazuya exclaimed. ¡°I was just here an hour ago. And then I went to see you. I dropped a plate, a paperweight, a comb, and a bunch of other stuff, so I apologized to you. Right?¡±


    Mr. Garnier shook his head gravely.


    Kazuya was stunned. Then he pulled the inspector along the corridor. Mr. Garnier and his staff followed them, grinning.


    ¡°What is this all about?¡± the man asked.


    Kazuya found the service elevator at the same spot. It was creepy, with a sour stench and reddish-black stains.


    They got off at the first floor and walked down the eerie corridor illuminated by pale gas lamps. When Kazuya reached the area where the mannequins were stacked, he looked back at the inspector and opened the lid of a wooden crate.


    ¡°There was a girl in here,¡± he said. ¡°She had sand-colored hair, and she said there were demons in here.¡±


    Inspector Blois snorted. He shot Kazuya a dubious look and shook his head. ¡°Oh, Kujou¡­¡±


    Kazuya looked at the crate, and let out a despaired groan.


    Inside was a figure curled up in a fetal position, its neck twisted at an unnatural angle. Wide-open dark eyes, looking up into the void. Sandy-colored hair.


    A mannequin.


    ¡°No way!¡± Kazuya sank to the floor.


    The vibration caused the crate to shake wildly, and the mannequin¡¯s head snapped, rolling to Kazuya¡¯s knees. The weight and the uncanny sensation made him scream.


    Mr. Garnier held his belly and burst into laughter. The three young staff also joined him.


    ¡°Hahahaha!¡±


    ¡°Bwahahaha!¡±


    ¡°Hilarious! Ahahaha!¡±


    Various emotions¡ªfrustration at being ridiculed, confusion¡ªswirled inside Kazuya as he stared vacantly at their faces. The mannequin¡¯s head was sitting on his lap.


    Beside him, Inspector Blois looked appalled. ¡°How could you mistake a mannequin for a person?¡±


    ¡°I-I didn¡¯t,¡± Kazuya groaned.


    Inspector Blois grabbed the mannequin by the hair, lifted its head, and stared at it. ¡°Mass-produced products really lack that charm.¡± He tossed it aside.


    The mannequin¡¯s head rolled across the floor, bounced against the wall, and then stopped. Its wide-open eyes were directed upward.


    No one tried to say anything.


    Eventually, Mr. Garnier let out a sigh. ¡°Are you done now?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Inspector Blois said. ¡°Apologies for the trouble.¡± He dragged the stunned Kazuya out of there.


    Kazuya snapped back to his senses. ¡°But I¡¯m telling the truth! That room had brown walls and checkered tiles, and there was a real living girl in that crate!¡±


    Mr. Garnier turned around. His amiable face flared with rage. ¡°That¡¯s enough! Any more insult to Jeantan, and I will have you arrested! Snap out of it already. You have never been in this department store! No one remembers you!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s impossible! I¡­ I¡­ definitely came to Jeantan!¡± Kazuya returned the man¡¯s glare.


    The inspector and the two officers dragged Kazuya out of the department store.


    Just as they got outside, a familiar-looking coachman passed by with a passenger. On his face was a large scar running diagonally across from right to left. When he saw Kazuya, he quickly looked away. Kazuya whistled, but the man pretended not to hear him. Kazuya shook off Inspector Blois, jumped off the sidewalk, and stood in front of the carriage.


    The horse neighed to a halt. The driver frowned, grumbling something.


    Kazuya rushed to the man. ¡°You picked me up earlier, didn¡¯t you?¡± He turned to the dubious inspector. ¡°Inspector! This guy is not a staff at Jeantan. He¡¯ll vouch for me!¡± He turned his face back to the driver. ¡°You gave me a ride earlier, right?¡±


    The driver, puzzled, regarded Kazuya¡¯s face, and nodded. Kazuya felt relieved.


    ¡°You picked me up after I came out of Jeantan and took me to the police station, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    The driver gave him a weird look. ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t pick you up here.¡±


    ¡°What?!¡±


    Kazuya¡¯s face twisted with distress.


    The driver¡¯s scarred face stretched into a bizarre smile. ¡°I picked you up from Charles de Gilet station and dropped you off at the square in front of the royal palace. Did something happen to you?¡±

 Volume 3 - CH 3.3

    With a glance at Kazuya¡¯s face, the driver shrugged, whipped his horse, and rode away. As Kazuya watched the carriage go, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Inspector Blois was staring at him with disappointment.


    ¡°I¡¯m really telling the truth,¡± Kazuya insisted.


    ¡°I¡¯m heading back to the station.¡±


    ¡°Inspector¡­¡±


    ¡°Enough.¡± The inspector called for a carriage, then with a stern look said, ¡°Not only do you have no proof for your claims, but eyewitnesses disagree with your statements. Besides, you¡¯re dealing with Mr. Garnier, a major figure in the business world. He may not be a noble, but he¡¯s one of the most important figures in Saubreme, a rapidly-developing economic hub. He¡¯s not someone you can discredit with mere speculation.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡±


    ¡°And one more thing.¡± Inspector Blois bit his lip hard. ¡°I want to knock the wind out of Mr. Signore¡¯s sails. I don¡¯t have time for this nonsense. I must prove myself here in Saubreme. Please don¡¯t waste any more of my precious time.¡±


    Kazuya refused to back down. ¡°But Inspector. I really saw a girl asking for help!¡±


    ¡°You were daydreaming.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t,¡± he mumbled.


    He didn¡¯t know what was what anymore. He just wanted to forget all about it, call it a nightmare.


    But Kazuya could not forget the strange girl, the fear that lurked within her deep purple eyes.


    He had never seen anyone with a face like that. A look of genuine fear. If that girl was not a ghost in his daydreams, but a real person, and if she really was in deep trouble, how could he just ignore her?


    His earnest nature reared its head and refused to let him forget. But he did not know what to do. No one corroborated his statements. The room with the glass cases was different from the one in his memory, and the girl in the crate was gone.


    ¡°Just continue your shopping.¡±


    The inspector smiled dryly and rode away in the carriage with the officers.


    Hooves clattered along the old cobblestones. The glaring midday sun shone on the street and on the building glasses. Noon in an early summer was such that just standing around would make one a bit sweaty. The daylight seemed to make the nightmarish events that happened just moments earlier surreal.


    Carriages passed by in front of Kazuya, who was lost in thought as he listened to the clattering of hooves, the voices of the people of Saubreme walking past, and the trumpets coming from the square in front of the royal palace.


    ¡°My daughter was eaten!¡± He felt a sudden tug at his clothes. ¡°Eateeeen!¡±


    Kazuya turned around in surprise and saw a woman with a wrinkled face, dressed in rags. She was looking at him, the hands on his clothes quivering.


    ¡°She was eaten by the darkness!¡±


    Kazuya didn¡¯t know what to do. A small hand, stained black, came from behind him. It yanked Kazuya with incredible force, pulling him away from the wailing old lady, and took him to a dim area with a drainage ditch.


    ¡°Give me a piece of paper.¡± A whisper right at his ear.


    A pair of dark little eyes shone in the shadows, burning blue like will-o¡¯-the-wisps. Skin blackened with soot and dirt, and disheveled hair whose original color was rendered ambiguous by dirt. It was the street urchin from earlier.


    ¡°I saved you from the old lady,¡± he said. ¡°So give me paper.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not getting any,¡± Kazuya said firmly. ¡°In fact, I should be asking for my money back.¡±


    The kid snorted and gave Kazuya a dubious look. ¡°You¡¯re pretty shrewd for a Chinese.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not Chinese. Though I understand it¡¯s hard to tell the difference.¡±


    ¡°Oh, really now?¡± he said in a bored tone. He watched the street for a while with a frown. ¡°So no paper from you.¡±


    ¡°Nope.¡±


    ¡°Tsk. Fine, then. By the way, why do you keep coming to Jeantan?¡±


    The kid¡¯s words went past Kazuya¡¯s ears for a second.


    Then suddenly, Kazuya gasped and turned to the kid, the motion so quick that the kid braced and shielded his shaggy little head with his hands, expecting to get hit.


    ¡°Did I enter Jeantan?¡± Kazuya asked with a serious face.


    The kid peeked from between his arms, looking skeptical. ¡°What are you talking about? Shouldn¡¯t you know that yourself?¡±


    ¡°No, I do. But that¡¯s not the point.¡±


    The kid pointed to the clock tower in the square. Then with half-lidded eyes, he started talking rapidly in a strange inflection, as if something was controlling him.


    ¡°You entered Jeantan at 11:22. 11:46 you came out and got into a carriage. You returned at 12:09 with a nobleman with a weird hairdo and two officers. Then you came out at exactly 12:30.¡±


    ¡°Wow. You have a great memory,¡± Kazuya murmured in disbelief. The kid snorted and looked away.


    ¡°But yeah. I¡¯ve been to Jeantan, that¡¯s for sure. There¡¯s no doubt about it. But for some reason, all the sales staff said they never saw me. And the carriage driver said he gave me a ride somewhere else.¡±


    The kid¡¯s cheek tightened. He was smirking. ¡°Man, you¡¯re dumb. If they were given paper, they¡¯d easily lie. If Jeantan gave me a bunch, I would even deny meeting you. They must¡¯ve received a lot from them.¡±


    Kazuya fell silent momentarily. ¡°But the room¡¯s decor was completely different. The walls, the chandelier, the floor. They told me I must have been dreaming.¡±


    ¡°Give me some paper,¡± the kid demanded.


    Kazuya reluctantly pulled out his wallet and handed over a bill. The kid grinned, swiftly hiding the bill somewhere on his body. Then with half-lidded eyes, he entered some sort of a trance.


    ¡°11:50, a bunch of men entered through the back door. They were carrying a lot of stuff.¡±


    ¡°What kind of stuff?¡±


    ¡°Cans full of paint, brush, and something that looked like a big roll of gold paper. A rolled up carpet. They were wearing overalls with paint on them.¡±


    ¡°Must be painters, then.¡±


    ¡°They came out at 12:04 with no gold paper or carpet, then hurried away in a carriage.¡±


    ¡°The golden paper must be wallpaper. If they didn¡¯t have it when they came out, they must have used it inside. Probably in that room where the walls changed from brown to gold.¡±


    The kid opened his eyes. ¡°12:04 was five minutes before you returned,¡± he said with a yawn.


    ¡°Yeah. They must have quickly replaced the wallpaper and put down the carpet after I left. They should have plenty of chandeliers for sale, too.¡± Kazuya shrugged. ¡°If what you say is true, that is. How can you remember things so accurately?¡± He regarded the boy skeptically.


    The kid scowled at him. His cheek quivered from having his pride hurt. ¡°I don¡¯t lie. I watched from across the street the whole time. I¡¯ve seen things. But people don¡¯t believe me because of how I look. So you don¡¯t believe me either.¡±


    ¡°Actually¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been here a long time and know a lot of things. I even remember all the customers that entered Jeantan. See that woman over there?¡± He pointed to a woman carrying purple bags. ¡°She went in two hours ago and just now came out. She did a lot of shopping. She¡¯s carrying five paper bags.¡± He then pointed to an old man hurrying out the building. ¡°And that man was only inside for three minutes. I can even tell what he bought. A walking stick. It¡¯s not wrapped, but he didn¡¯t have it with him when he entered. I¡¯m guessing he didn¡¯t bother asking for a bag because he was going to use it right away, and instead just removed the price tag. I watch Jeantan¡¯s customers here every day.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just¡ª¡±


    ¡°Every month, a couple of customers don¡¯t come out.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just wondering how your memory¡¯s so¡ªwait, what do you mean they don¡¯t come out?¡±

 Volume 3 - CH 3.4

    The kid frowned, and his whole body shrank in horror. ¡°They went in and never came out the front or the back. Even after days. There are customers who enter Jeantan and disappear. All young women.¡±


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you report it to the cops?¡±


    ¡°I did tell the cops,¡± he snapped, baring his yellowish teeth. ¡°I told them about the disappearing women. But they just hit me. They thought I was lying. They beat me up and kicked me out of the station. They said there¡¯s no way I could remember that accurately. That I was lying. I never said anything after that. I just watch from here.¡±


    Kazuya stared at the kid¡¯s face the whole time. He himself could not remember exactly when he entered and exited Jeantan. There was no way this kid could remember everyone who came in and out of the department store.


    Yet strangely enough, he sensed credibility in his words. The old woman from earlier pointed to the department store and said that her daughter was eaten. Perhaps she meant that her daughter had gone inside and never came out.


    And then there was the girl in the crate¡­


    Ah! He suddenly remembered something.


    When he first met this street urchin, he mumbled, ¡°957¡±. At the time, he had no idea what it meant, but now that he thought about it, the kid said it when he spilled the coins from his wallet onto the street.


    No way¡­


    Kazuya took out his wallet and began counting the coins inside. He gave the kid and the driver bills.


    The coins amounted to a total of 957.


    Wow!


    Kazuya turned his gaze back to the kid. He was incredibly sharp, but his face was dirty, and he was covering his head to avoid getting hit.


    Bewildered, he tried to talk to the boy. ¡°Can you¡ª


    ¡°Give me back my daughter!¡±


    The old lady appeared again and grabbed Kazuya. Jet-black, animal-like eyes glinted on her dirty face. She grabbed his collar with terrifying force, staring straight at him.


    ¡°Please find my daughter!¡± she cried in accented French.


    ¡°Uhm¡­ please let me go!¡± Kazuya shouted.


    The old lady retreated. Then she looked up at Kazuya in horror, tears forming in her eyes. ¡°Please help me find my daughter!¡± Her voice faded, and she cast her gaze downward.


    Like the wind blowing the clouds away to reveal the sun, the madness vanished from her face, and reason returned to her eyes.


    ¡°She disappeared from here four years ago,¡± she said. ¡°My daughter and I were tourists. We both entered that department store, but she never came out!¡±


    ¡°Seriously?¡±


    ¡°My daughter wanted a dress. I told her I would buy it for her. She took the dress and went into the fitting room by herself. I waited for her to come out, and when I opened the door, she was gone. There was nobody there.¡± She started sobbing.


    Kazuya suddenly remembered a very similar horror story he had heard from his classmate Avril¡ªa noblewoman disappearing from a department store¡¯s fitting room. The old woman¡¯s story was very similar to a story from that book, which was a collection of rumors circulating in Saubreme.


    Inspector Blois also mentioned a case about the ones who vanished into the darkness.


    Perhaps customers really did disappear in Jeantan sometimes, and though the matter never came to light, rumors started spreading among the common folk.


    Tears streaming down the old woman¡¯s wrinkled, soot-stained face created horrifying patterns. The wrinkles that ran along her eyelids hung down to her eyes. Her ragged clothes were bulging, as if they were filled with something.


    Kazuya recalled another story that Avril shared¡ªa killer disguised as a hobo with children¡¯s corpses hanging inside his clothes.


    The old woman raised her voice, snapping Kazuya out of his reverie. ¡°All their employees are weird. They say they never saw my daughter. Even the staff who recommended the dress said I¡¯d been alone in the store the whole time. The doorman¡ªeveryone¡ªsaid they never saw my daughter. They showed her the dress, said it looked good on her, and told her to try it in the fitting room. But no one listened to me. My daughter disappeared, and I never saw her again. It¡¯s been four years now. I don¡¯t even know if she¡¯s still alive!¡±


    Kazuya thought about the second time he entered Jeantan. Everyone insisted that they had not seen him, and even the interior of the room he was supposed to have entered had completely changed. Not only that, he also saw a girl coming out of a crate, asking for help. He was sure of that.


    Kazuya pondered it over for a while.


    Slowly, he opened his eyes. He glanced at his hand. He was holding something¡ªa wrapping paper with red ribbon. It contained a pretty pipe holder in the shape of a shoe, which he had bought at a pipe shop right after arriving in Saubreme. It was a souvenir for Victorique.


    Kazuya thought about her.


    I wasn¡¯t dreaming. If she were here, she would have solved the mystery in no time, yawned, and complained that she was bored again. Yes, if only you were here¡­


    Her husky voice came to mind. ¡°It¡¯s simple desire.¡±


    A glimmer of hope returned to Kazuya¡¯s eyes.


    The small, mysterious figure of his intelligent friend appeared in his mind. She once talked about the supernatural story trend in the quiet conservatory at the top of the library. He remembered the words she uttered in her husky voice.


    ¡°The desire for the unseen and the incomprehensible to exist. Some look to religion, because they have not yet seen God. Some look to love, because they had not felt it. And some began looking to the supernatural.¡±


    When he declared that he didn¡¯t believe in the supernatural, she said, ¡°People who say such things tend to have cold feet when something inexplicable happens.¡±


    Kazuya nodded to himself. On his face was a smile of relief.


    Victorique¡­ Mean, whimsical, arrogant, and downright irritating Victorique¡­ I¡¯m sure you¡¯d believe me and listen to what I have to say. Of course, you¡¯d get mad at first, mock me, and hurl insults. But you¡¯d nevertheless uncover the truth. All that¡¯s happened earlier was not a dream. They¡¯re just fragments, nothing but a headache for me, but for Victorique, they¡¯re fragments of chaos. She would reconstruct them in no time, providing a little relief from boredom for the Princess Locked in a Tower. Besides, she was just whining to me yesterday.


    ¡°Get yourself involved in some incident by tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry.¡±


    ¡°I will solve the case once I feel like it.¡±


    The last part was slightly, or rather quite disturbing, but Kazuya tried not to think about it.


    He headed for the caf¨¦ across the street from Jeantan, with the odd street urchin following him behind.


    The relaxing caf¨¦, which opened onto the street, was crowded at lunchtime. Kazuya asked a staff if he could borrow their phone, and they gladly lent him one out front.


    Kazuya picked up the phone. He asked the operator to connect him to St. Marguerite Academy.


    ¡°Did they have Blue Roses?¡± Ms. Cecile asked in a carefree tone.


    ¡°There¡¯s more pressing matters at hand, Teach,¡± Kazuya replied. ¡°Please get me Victorique.¡±


    ¡°Did you suddenly want to hear her voice?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s just creepy. It¡¯s an emergency.¡±


    ¡°Got it. I¡¯ll tell her that you called under the pretext of an emergency just to hear her voice.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t do that! Hello?! Just give her the phone!¡±


    Ignoring Kazuya¡¯s cries, Ms. Cecile put the phone down for a moment with a chuckle, leaving him on edge. He wondered what he would do if she told Victorique exactly that. It was hard to imagine Victorique missing him or wanting to hear his voice if he was away. As a matter of fact, she might not even notice his absence. Even if Kazuya was away from school for a week or a month, Victorique would be completely unperturbed, blowing her pipe in her usual spot in the conservatory, buried in a pile of books, and when he returned one day, she would say, ¡°Oh, it¡¯s you,¡± like she always did.


    A disgruntled glance would be the best she could offer.


    Tsk.


    The thought made Kazuya feel sad. And angry, for some reason. All of Victorique¡¯s flaws flashed through his mind.


    That bossy, stubborn, little crybaby¡­!


    He felt dejected.


    Victorique was still not on the phone.


    The blinding early-summer sun shone on the cafe¡¯s storefront, reflecting off the stone pavement.

 Volume 3 - CH 4.1

    ¡ªBedroom 3¡ª


    Victorique¡¯s breath filled the dark, cramped, and humid space. Her increasing temperature made her feel like she was going to black out.


    She closed her eyes and exhaled hot breaths in the darkness. She felt dizzy. With her small hands clutching the edge of the comforter, she slowly opened her green eyes and groaned. She was weak, but there was still a fiery glint in her eyes.


    ¡°I¡¯m never getting out of here,¡± she groaned.


    A distressed sigh came from outside the darkness.


    Ms. Cecile came through the flowerbed maze to Victorique¡¯s bedroom.


    ¡°Victorique, there¡¯s a phone call for you¡­ Oh, Doctor.¡±


    Ms. Cecile stopped and glanced around.


    In a corner of the room stood a small, elderly man in a white coat, wearing a frown. A square leather bag lay open on the small table. Holding a large, translucent syringe in one hand, the old man stared at Ms. Cecile.


    Ms. Cecile looked toward the bed.


    Victorique was not there. The bulging comforter was quivering. Ms. Cecile almost burst out laughing at the thought of what was under the comforter.


    ¡°Oh, my,¡± she muttered.


    ¡°Cecile,¡± the village doctor said. ¡°As soon as I told her I¡¯d give her a shot, this happened.¡± He looked at Ms. Cecile with a deep frown.


    ¡°I hate pain! Achoo!¡± A breathless, husky voice came from under the comforter.


    ¡°It works because it hurts, Victorique,¡± Ms. Cecile said.


    ¡°Lies.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not lying.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Victorique!¡± Ms. Cecile tried to raise her voice, but her puppy-like image dampened any impact it might have had. The comforter still showed no sign of moving.


    The doctor shrugged. ¡°When I tried to remove the covers, she screamed. An otherworldly scream, that. She¡¯s your student, isn¡¯t she? Can you do something?¡±


    ¡°I-I¡¯m not sure what I can do.¡± Ms. Cecile thought it over.


    Silence filled the bedroom. There was no other sound, save for the occasional sneeze coming from under the covers. A breeze set the French windows creaking. Leaves glittered under the light of the early-summer sun.


    ¡°Ah!¡± Ms. Cecile clapped her hands together, then pointed toward the room next door. ¡°I almost forgot why I came here. You have a call from your friend, Victorique.¡±


    ¡°Y-You¡¯re lying.¡±


    ¡°H-How would I be lying?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have friends,¡± Victorique murmured sadly.


    ¡°Then what is Kujou to you?¡±


    The comforter moved a little. Then stopped again.


    Ms. Cecile glanced at the doctor.


    ¡°Kujou?¡± There was a hint of joy in Victorique¡¯s voice.


    ¡°He¡¯s calling from Saubreme. He says it¡¯s an emergency.¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­¡±


    Ms. Cecile clenched her fists. Almost there.


    ¡°He was panicking. He might end the call soon.¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­¡± The comforter shifted. ¡°Stupid Kujou. Slow as always. His dumb face must have done something dumb that got him caught in a dumb situation.¡± She rose, her voice sounding a little excited.


    Both Ms. Cecile and the doctor looked surprised. Victorique remained completely covered by the comforter as she began to move slowly, looking like a ghost. She got off the bed and headed toward the next room.


    Ms. Cecile and the old doctor exchanged glances. Nodding, the teacher put one foot out, causing Victorique to trip and fall. She sneezed as she hit the floor.


    ¡°Now!¡± Ms. Cecile shouted.


    Victorique¡¯s little face, peeking from under the cover, contorted in pain. Her green eyes widened, and she slowly turned around with a look of disbelief.


    Someone had grabbed her exposed arm. She saw the triumphant face of the doctor and the syringe stuck in her arm. Her face scrunched up, and tears fell from the corner of her eyes.


    Victorique took a deep breath and let out a mournful, unearthly scream.


    ¡°You will both pay for this,¡± Victorique mumbled as she walked to the next room, crying and sneezing. ¡°How can this bring my fever down? It just hurts.¡±


    The doctor left triumphantly, bag in hand, and Ms. Cecile, chuckling, left for class. Victorique rubbed her arm, which still ached from the numbing injection.


    She reached the next room and stood in front of the telephone. Weeping like a child, she wiped her tears repeatedly with the back of her hand. She reached for the receiver, sniffing.


    With shaky hands, she put the receiver to her ear. She heard Kazuya¡¯s frantic voice.


    ¡°Victorique? Is that you? Victorique! There¡¯s trouble. Please listen. Hello? Can you hear me? Victorique!¡±


    ¡°Idiot!¡±


    Victorique took her anger out on him. Kazuya was at a loss for words for a moment, then started grumbling furiously.


    There was a rumble, and the sound of the receiver hitting something, followed by an unfamiliar, childlike voice.


    ¡°Twelve¡­¡± the voice mumbled.


    Then a scream from Kazuya.


    The call was abruptly disconnected.


    Victorique stared at the receiver for a while. Then her cheeks bulged. She was mad.


    ¡°What in the world did you want, Kujou?! Do you know how much I sacrificed to get here?! You made me get an injection. It hurt a lot! Yet I still answered the phone!¡±


    Victorique¡¯s shoulders slumped, and she tottered back into the bedroom. With trembling hands, she picked up the feather comforter from the floor, heaving as if it weighed a ton, and somehow managed to put it back on the bed. She exhaled.


    Breathing hotly, she flopped onto the bed, her face even redder than before.


    Soon, Victorique¡¯s labored gasps turned to soft breathing.


    Silence filled the bedroom once more.


    Chapter 4: Anastasia


    ¡°Idiot?! You¡¯re the idiot, Victorique! I haven¡¯t even said anything dumb yet. Why do you always have to be so rude? For the record, I¡¯m not being bold just because I¡¯m on the phone. Anyway, I suggest you treat me better from now on. Hello? Victorique? Are you there?¡±


    There was a drumming of hooves on the cobblestones.


    Kazuya looked over and saw a carriage turning the corner at a terrific speed, coming to his direction. The carriage ran up onto the sidewalk, and the ladies on foot screamed and ran for cover.


    A pale, thin arm, with dark-purple fingernails, reminiscent of the dead, reached out from inside the carriage, stretching toward him.


    A warm wind blew.


    The street urchin stood shocked as the creepy arm grabbed Kazuya. His eyes darted to the clock tower. ¡°12:51!¡±


    Screaming, Kazuya was pulled into the speeding carriage with terrifying force. The blackish, dirty face of the kid who was just with him on the street receded into the distance.


    Kazuya tried to resist, but the pale arms gripping him tight would not let him go. The carriage accelerated. He couldn¡¯t jump off at this point. Slamming his head on the seat, he shook off the arm and turned to his captor¡¯s face.


    ¡°It¡¯s you!¡±


    Like a fishing line being reeled in, the arm retreated back swiftly, and the girl shrank back into the corner of her seat.


    Her pale arm was shaking violently, even more than the carriage running across the cobblestones at incredible speed.


    Wearing a grimy, simple white gown, she was hunched over, her scrawny kneecaps lit by the lamps swinging on the carriage walls. Her bony chest and full breasts, a discordant sight, peeked in and out of the gown¡¯s chest.


    Her ears were covered with trembling fists, and her face was half-hidden by her disheveled, sandy-colored hair. Her pale lips were parted, her mouth wide open like a gaping cave.


    The girl inhaled, and let out a piercing scream. It was the shrill cry of an animal. Her hair rustled, allowing a glimpse of the wide-open, purple eyes sitting above the pale hand that covered her mouth.


    Misty, pleading eyes, cloudy like a drop of milk in water.


    ¡°The girl in the crate?¡±


    The girl raised her head. When she saw Kazuya¡¯s face, her large, purple eyes widened. ¡°Demons!¡± she gasped. ¡°There are demons in here!¡±

 Volume 3 - CH 4.2

    The carriage slowed down, heading in some unknown direction. Hooves echoed softly on the street.


    Baffled, Kazuya calmed the girl down. ¡°Why were you in that crate?¡± he asked. ¡°Where do you usually stay? I went to get help, but when I came back, you were gone.¡±


    ¡°I-I¡¯m scared,¡± the girl mumbled, cradling her head, shaking it. She was breathing heavily. ¡°I¡¯m scared! Scared!¡±


    She looked up and reached for Kazuya¡¯s cheek. Her hand was so cold and moist that he let out a yelp. Too cold for a living being. The air inside the carriage was getting colder as well. Just one touch seemed to chill his very core.


    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± Kazuya managed.


    ¡°Name¡­ Yours?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Kujou. Kazuya Kujou. And you are?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­¡±


    The girl started spinning her head round and round. It was spinning so fast that Kazuya thought the centrifugal force would send her head flying off into the distance. Her sandy-colored hair flew up in the cold air. Kazuya distanced himself from the girl.


    Eventually, the girl calmed down, and a hint of a smile appeared on her face.


    ¡°I¡¯m Anastasia.¡±


    ¡°Anastasia?¡±


    She nodded with a smile. An adorable motion unbefitting of the current situation. She brought her face close to Kazuya¡¯s cheek. Her skin was as cold and dry as ice.


    Anastasia¡¯s cheek touched Kazuya¡¯s. ¡°I was¡­ going to¡­ be sacrificed to demons,¡± she said in broken French. Smiling, she crumpled to her seat.


    Kazuya helped her up. Every part of her scraggly body was cold, and his fingers felt numb.


    Maybe she doesn¡¯t understand? Kazuya wondered. What¡¯s this about demons?


    He managed to bring her upright. Anastasia was shivering, her eyes closed, but slowly she opened them and peered into Kazuya¡¯s face.


    ¡°I was in Jeantan.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right. You were in a crate at the end of the corridor.¡±


    ¡°We were locked up.¡±


    ¡°What?!¡±


    ¡°With other girls. In a secret room in Jeantan. It¡¯s huge. It was locked, so we couldn¡¯t escape. There was an eagle with two heads.¡±


    ¡°An eagle? What?¡±


    ¡°The room had a window, where I could see the royal palace of Saubreme. The palace looked pretty. So sparkly. But it was scary, so I ran away. People came, so I hid in the crate.¡±


    Kazuya didn¡¯t know what to say. The words of the strange old lady in front of Jeantan flashed through his mind.


    ¡°My daughter and I were tourists. We both entered that department store, but she never came out!¡±


    Avril¡¯s story about people disappearing in a department store. The peculiar street urchin¡¯s account of customers who went into Jeantan but never came out. And the frequent disappearances in Saubreme as a whole¡ªthose who vanished into the dark.


    Although confused by Anastasia¡¯s statements, Kazuya put on a serious expression, and placed his hands on her shoulders. ¡°You were locked up, yeah? Are there others still inside? If so, we have to report it to the police. The inspector wouldn¡¯t believe me earlier, but if I bring you with me.¡±


    ¡°The demons prevent escape.¡± Anastasia¡¯s cloudy, purple eyes widened, and she ruffled her dried, sandy-colored hair. ¡°Demons come and perform a ritual. They lock us up for the ritual.¡±


    ¡°I know you can¡¯t speak French well, but I need you to explain it clearly.¡±


    ¡°Demonic rituals! Demons! Demonic rituals!¡±


    Anastasia¡¯s hands balled into fists and she pounded on Kazuya¡¯s chest repeatedly.


    ¡°What do you mean?!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Strange rituals. We are sacrifices. Demons surround us and recite weird incantation. They raise their hands like this.¡± She raised her hands and waved them around. Tears streamed down her grimy, pale cheeks. ¡°Demons only talk to demons. They stare at us. One by one, we disappear and never see them again. The demons kill them. Only the cold coffin containing the bodies of those who have disappeared return.¡±


    Kazuya was perplexed. He was starting to think that this case was more than he could handle.


    First things first. I gotta take her to the station for her protection.


    Kazuya opened the small window that led to the driver¡¯s seat. He asked to be taken to Sauville¡¯s police station.


    The carriage gradually slowed down and stopped at a corner of the street where the station was located. The two disembarked. After paying the fare, Kazuya helped Anastasia walk to the station.


    ¡°It¡¯s all right now,¡± he assured. ¡°We¡¯re at the police station. Calm down, and tell them what happened.¡±


    ¡°O-Okay¡­¡± Anastasia nodded. She blinked, and tears formed in her cloudy, purple eyes.


    Meanwhile¡­


    Inspector Grevil de Blois was in Sauville Police Headquarters¡¯ conference room, surrounded by detectives.


    Inspector Blois, cradling his pointy head, stared at the lists in front of him. On his lap was an expensive porcelain doll, wobbling with his restless foot-tapping.


    A list of artworks that disappeared from Sauville¡¯s royal treasury during the height of the Great War, a list of treasures left by the Romanov dynasty in Russia and stolen goods smuggled from the colonies, a list of brokers, and a list of collectors who buy stolen goods with gold coins.


    The detectives watched Inspector Blois with bated breath. They were eager to hear the famed inspector¡¯s deduction, but the man himself was more interested in the conversation going on in the conference room next door.


    In the next room, Mr. Signore was discussing the secret Zoroastrian congregation spreading in England, murders committed by worshippers of the Indian evil goddess Kali, and the growing number of African witchcraft enthusiasts in France.


    People returning from the colonies were secretly introducing foreign cultures in their home country.


    In Sauville, police were currently investigating reports about Satanic rituals.


    Whie Inspector Blois listened to the horrifying conversation, smoking his pipe, a knock came at the door. Everyone raised their head.


    A young detective whispered something. Inspector Blois frowned and stood up.


    ¡°What in the world is this about, Kujou?¡± Inspector Blois entered a small room where Kazuya was waiting. ¡°I told you to stop¡­ wasting¡­ my time¡­¡± His eyes widened when he saw the emaciated girl slumped next to the boy.


    ¡°Who is that?¡± the inspector asked.


    ¡°Please listen to what she has to say.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m asking you who she is.¡±


    ¡°Her name is Anastasia, the girl I found inside the crate in Jeantan. She escaped on her own after that.¡±


    ¡°Not Jeantan again. I told you I have no time for that.¡±


    ¡°She says¡­¡± The door opened, and Mr. Signore appeared. Kazuya continued. ¡°She says there are others like her locked inside. If I recall correctly, there have been many disappearances in Saubreme. Those who vanished into the dark. You said that the the city¡¯s darkness swallowed them, and I think I know where its mouth is. Jeantan.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s enough!¡± the nspector snapped.


    ¡°Grevil,¡± Mr. Signore interrupted. ¡°How about listening to what she has to say?¡±


    Kazuya looked at the inspector. Fiddling with his doll, he nodded reluctantly.


    Kazuya urged Anastasia to speak. Her purple, jewel-like eyes widened, and she began talking in broken French.


    Anastasia was an immigrant from Russia. The daughter of a wealthy noble family, she was forced to flee her country during the Russian Revolution of 1917. Her father died in Russia, followed by her mother in Western Europe, where they fled. She came to Sauville alone. She supposedly had distant relatives here, but since she could barely speak French, she had difficulty seeing them.


    ¡°It was night, and I was standing on the street. I found myself in front of Jeantan. There was a mannequin in a beautiful dress in the display window. I thought it was beautiful. So beautiful that I almost cried. Then a young sales staff came out and said, ¡®Come and try it on¡¯. But I hesitated. You go to a department store to buy things. You need money, and I didn¡¯t have any. Then the staff laughed and said, ¡®You can just try it on in the fitting room. It¡¯s free.¡¯ I should have realized that something was off. But I wandered in, picked up the beautiful dress, and entered the fitting room. When the door closed, the mirror opened. The mirror was also a door. I was dragged into the mirror, blindfolded, and taken to another room. When I came to, I found many others like me, crying. And then we¡­¡± Her voice trembled. ¡°¡­we couldn¡¯t leave any more. We were trapped in the looking glass.¡±


    Kazuya¡¯s breath caught at the words ¡°fitting room¡±. Both the old woman and Avril mentioned the same thing.


    ¡°There¡¯s something about the fitting rooms in Jeantan,¡± Kazuya muttered. ¡°And there¡¯s a place in the building where they¡¯re hiding the missing people. I don¡¯t know why they¡¯re doing this, though.¡±


    Anastasia stood up. She took a deep breath, shook her head, and screamed.


    ¡°Demons. Many disappeared, devoured by the demons. There are demons in Jeantan performing demonic rituals!¡±


    Tears streamed down her face as she started sobbing. Inspector Blois stared at Anastasia with a dubious look on his face. Mr. Signore, on the other hand, looked serious.


    ¡°After the ritual, the girl with us disappeared and never came back until later that night¡­ in a coffin. Her whole body was covered in bandages. I called her name, but she wouldn¡¯t answer. I touched her, and she felt cold. She was already dead. Just moments earlier, we were cheering each other up. What did the demons do to her? Why? Why did they take us? So I ran away. I escaped from that room. And then¡­¡± She took one deep breath and fell unconscious.


    Mr. Signore rushed out into the hallway and told a young detective to call a doctor.


    Inspector Blois frowned. ¡°I¡¯m going back to the art case. Kujou, you stay here and think about what you did.¡±


    ¡°What? Why? Why do you siblings keep telling me to think about what I did? No way. I did nothing that warrants reflection. Where are you going?¡±


    ¡°Working on the case assigned to me. There¡¯s clearly something wrong with this girl. Are you sure it wasn¡¯t just all in her head? There¡¯s no evidence to prove her claims. Anyway, this is the last time I¡¯m humoring you. Besides, reflection is a sign of growth.¡±


    ¡°Look who¡¯s talking!¡±


    Ignoring the boy, Inspector Blois exited the room. Kazuya followed him to a conference room full of detectives.


    ¡°Those who vanished into the darkness disappeared somewhere in Saubreme,¡± Kazuya said. ¡°It must be in Jeantan. Girls and children that entered and never came out.¡±


    Inspector Blois turned around. ¡°But can you prove that these women actually disappeared in Jeantan?¡±


    Kazuya stood frozen. All eyes were on him, eyes that said he would not be able to do it.


    ¡°I can,¡± he declared.


    A stir ran among the detectives. Kazuya himself was surprised at what he said.


    ¡°I¡¯ll bring a kid I know. In the meantime, Inspector, I need you to gather photos of the missing people in Saubreme. And make sure you mix in photos of irrelevant people. I¡¯ll be right back!¡±


    Kazuya dashed out of the conference room, down the corridor, and out of the station.


    ¡°K-Kujou?¡± Inspector Blois mumbled in confusion.

 Volume 3 - CH 4.3

    The street in front of Jeantan was more crowded in the evening. The sound of footsteps filled the sidewalks.


    Kazuya looked around. He couldn¡¯t quite find the person he was looking for. Suddenly he remembered something. He went to the drainage and peered into the shadows.


    ¡°You there!¡±


    ¡°Hmm? Oh, it¡¯s just the dumb Chinese,¡± came a bored reply.


    Kazuya felt relieved. ¡°I could use a little help.¡±


    ¡°Will you give me paper?¡±


    Inspector Blois¡¯ face popped into his mind, and he nodded. ¡°Yes. Lots of paper.¡±


    ¡°So what do you need?¡± The street urchin stepped out of the shadows. A dirty face with glistening blue eyes looked up at Kazuya. It was hard to tell the original color of his soot-stained hair.


    ¡°You told me that every month there are a couple of customers who enter Jeantan and never come out. I need you to explain that in detail.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I think something horrible is happening in Jeantan. A girl I met asked for help. She said something about demonic rituals and people getting killed.¡±


    ¡°Demonic?¡± The kid snorted.


    Kazuya nodded. ¡°That¡¯s what she says. Anyway, just come with me to the station¡ª¡±


    ¡°The station?!¡± The kid turned around and scurried back into the ditch.


    Kazuya grabbed his arm, but he was getting pulled into the ditch as well, so he put his arm around the kid¡¯s neck. ¡°Please! People¡¯s lives are at stake. This might be a major crime!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to go to the cops!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll be fine!¡±


    ¡°No!¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°Because¡­¡± His voice weakened. ¡°I¡¯ve been to the cops before. Some girls didn¡¯t come out, so I told them about it. But they beat me up with their batons. They said I was making things up. It hurt so much.¡±


    He began sobbing. Kazuya regarded his face. The little boy stared back at him with tears in his blue eyes. Two lines of tears spilled down his dirty face, revealing fair skin underneath. He wiped the tears away with the back of his dirty hand.


    ¡°A girl who escaped asked me for help once. But there was nothing I could do. A guy chasing her caught her. I went to the police, but they wouldn¡¯t open the front door. They just wiped the dirty spot made by my fists. They didn¡¯t listen to me. I never saw the girl again. She was about the same age as me.¡± He was crying now. ¡°No one listens to me.¡±


    ¡°I will. I¡¯ll listen to you. And the cops will listen as well. I know a police inspector. I promised him I would take you with me. Right now, they¡¯re gathering lots of photos. I¡¯ll be right by your side making sure they don¡¯t hurt you.¡±


    Like an actual child, the street urchin clung to his neck. As Kazuya patted his grimy head, the kid cried louder and louder.


    People glanced at them as they hurried past.


    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± Kazuya asked.


    ¡°What¡¯s yours?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Kujou. Kazuya Kujou.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Luigi,¡± the kid said.


    They started walking down the pavement, hand in hand. The sun was slowly setting. It felt cooler now.


    Luigi was afraid of carriages, saying he had never ridden in one before, so Kazuya decided to walk to the police station. They hurried along, weaving past crowds of people.


    Kazuya stopped in front of a building on the street near the Charles de Gilet station. It was a foreign-styled yellow building shaped like a pyramid. The wide-open entrance and the ticket window marked it as a theater. Large posters of glamorous and obscene shows hung outside.


    Luigi looked at Kazuya curiously. ¡°Do you like this sort of thing?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Uh, no, not really¡­¡±


    Kazuya pointed to a poster for a show titled ¡°Phantasmagoria,¡± which humorously depicted dancing skeletons, a beautiful levitating woman, and a headless man holding his own head in his hands. It bore the words: Amputation! Mechanical Turk! Teleportation! and next to a red-haired man in a black tailcoat, it said: The Greatest Magician of the Century, Brian Roscoe, Finally Performing in this Theater!


    Wait¡­ Brian Roscoe?!


    The name sounded familiar. Was it a coincidence? Or was it the same person?


    Victorique¡¯s image popped into Kazuya¡¯s mind again. He thought about her past, her birth, how she grew up locked in a tower.


    Brian Roscoe.


    Kazuya remembered the photo of Cordelia Gallo that Victorique cherished. Cordelia, her mother who looked exactly like her, but with glossy, mature makeup. She came from a nameless village deep in the mountains where the descendants of an Eastern European tribe called the Gray Wolves lived. She was banished from the village for a crime she did not commit and eventually became a dancer in the city, but it was said that mysterious incidents occurred frequently around her. Later, Marquis de Blois, who wished to introduce the blood of the Gray Wolf into his bloodline, made her give birth to Victorique de Blois, but she was banished from the Marquis¡¯ family when the Marquis learned of her alleged crime. Her daughter Victorique, whom she left behind, grew up locked in a tower. She was now a student at St. Marguerite Academy, but an agreement between the Marquis and the academy prevented her from leaving the campus. So even if she could manage to stuck out, being ignorant of the outside world, she would be lost without Kazuya.


    Her mother, Cordelia, was said to have played some kind of role in the Great War that followed, but Kazuya did not know anything about it. But he knew that just before the Great War, a mysterious young man named Brian Roscoe visited the nameless village where Cordelia was born and raised, found something that Cordelia hid under the floor of her house, and took it.


    However, he knew not exactly who Brian Roscoe was, or what he took from that house.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with this poster?¡±


    Luigi¡¯s voice brought Kazuya back to his senses.


    I¡¯m sure it¡¯s just someone sharing the same name. Yup, that¡¯s it. Besides, now¡¯s not the time for this.


    ¡°Sorry for the hold-up. Let¡¯s go.¡± Kazuya pulled on Luigi¡¯s hand.


    A large carriage pulled up in front of the theater. A group of young men rushed out of the building and bowed gracefully in unison.


    A man with fiery red hair jumped down from the carriage.


    He had cat-like green eyes and hair the color of flames. He had handsome chiseled features reminiscent of ancient sculptures, but also a fierce nature, apparent at first glance.


    Kazuya realized that he was the Brian Roscoe depicted on the poster. Landing on the pavement, Brian extended one hand and pointed to the carriage. Four men entered the carriage and came out, carrying something unusual.


    It was a square box with a puppet attached. The puppet, as big as a child of Luigi¡¯s age, had two thin arms outstretched to a chessboard placed on top of the box. It was a bearded man with a Turkish turban.


    ¡°A Mechanical Turk!¡± Luigi exclaimed. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen one before!¡±


    ¡°A what?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s amazing. The box is empty, which the guests confirm, and it¡¯s not even big enough for an adult to fit inside. But the puppet moves on its own and plays a chess match with the audience. And it¡¯s so good that no one can beat it. The Mechanical Turk is extremely smart. It¡¯s a very popular show right now. See that guy right there? That¡¯s Brian Roscoe. It¡¯s one of his best tricks.¡±


    ¡°Really, now? Does he have any other tricks?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s teleportation¡­ But there¡¯s something off with that guy. There were a few times when it didn¡¯t seem like a trick, like he was really in two places at the same time. He would enter Jeantan, not come out, and then go back in a few minutes later. He would appear in one side of the road and the other at about the same time. He pretends to be a magician, but I think he¡¯s the real deal. Let¡¯s go, Kazuya Kujou. I¡¯m curious about the Mechanical Turk, but that guy gives me the creeps.¡±


    ¡°Uh, okay¡­¡±


    As Kazuya walked past the carriage, Brian moved his chin a little and stared at Kazuya.


    Cat-like eyes. Fiery hair. The wary look on his face sent a chill down Kazuya¡¯s spine. He couldn¡¯t look away.


    Brian Roscoe grinned and directed his attention back to the men carrying the Mechanical Turk.


    ¡°Be gentle to her, boys.¡±


    The men stared at the bearded puppet¡¯s funny face and laughed.


    ¡°She caught a cold this morning.¡±


    The men laughed again.


    Kazuya and Luigi walked away from the theater.


    ¡°Achoo!¡±


    The men exchanged glances. They all shook their heads as though to say it wasn¡¯t them. Then their gazes slowly went to the Mechanical Turk.


    The box was light and very small, not big enough to hold a person inside.


    Brian Roscoe smirked at the men, who looked uncomfortably silent. His flame-red hair danced ominously in the wind.


    ¡°I told you. She caught a cold. Carry her as gently as you can.¡±


    With frightened faces, the men carried the Mechanical Turk slowly. As they disappeared into the theater, Brian wiped out his smirk, and with dark eyes looked at Kazuya and Luigi as they receded further away.


    The pair was soon swallowed by the crowd.

 Volume 3 - CH 4.4

    Kazuya returned to the police station with Luigi.


    When he barged into the conference room, the detectives all rose to their feet, startled. They stared at the dirty street urchin, covering their noses, looking like they wanted to get out of there. Kazuya pulled Luigi to the middle of the conference room.


    Inspector Blois, too, was stunned. ¡°Who¡¯s that, Kujou?¡±


    ¡°A witness.¡±


    The detectives shared looks.


    ¡°His name¡¯s Luigi,¡± Kazuya continued. ¡°He¡¯s been in front of Jeantan for years and has seen a lot. And he has incredibly good memory. He can testify.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious.¡±


    ¡°Luigi, how many detectives are in this room?¡±


    ¡°Forty-two,¡± the kid replied boredly.


    The inspector stared at Kazuya with a puzzled expression. When Kazuya signaled with his eyes, the inspector reluctantly started counting the detectives. It was surprisingly difficult to count them all since they were sitting in different spots. Not only that, but some moved, and others came in and out.


    ¡°Line up and count off!¡± the inspector ordered.


    The detectives glanced at each other and began forming a line. ¡°One, two, three¡­¡± When there were only a few detectives left, a stir ran among them.


    ¡°Forty-two,¡± the last one mumbled.


    The detectives regarded Luigi.


    Kazuya nodded. ¡°Smart kid, huh?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t like smart kids,¡± Inspector Blois muttered.


    He sat Luigi down in a chair and showed him photos of girls. Luigi shook his head at the first few photos and brushed them aside.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen these girls before,¡± he said.


    Inspector Blois gave Kazuya a reproachful look.


    ¡°I know this lady,¡± Luigi said, pointing to a woman¡¯s photo. ¡°She comes to Jeantan three times a week and buys lots of stuff. She¡¯s still alive and kicking. Saw her yesterday.¡±


    One of the detectives looked distressed. ¡°He¡¯s right¡­!¡± he mumbled.


    Kazuya had no idea what it was about.


    ¡°We ran out of random photos to throw into the mix, so I confiscated photos of the detectives¡¯ wives and daughters that they carry around,¡± Inspector Blois whispered. ¡°The woman seems to be his wife. Must be rough having a shopaholic wife.¡±


    ¡°Ah, I see.¡±


    When Luigi saw the next photo, he suddenly took a big breath. All gazes were on him. His eyes and lips were partly open, as though in a trance.


    ¡°Last winter. February 12th. 3:05 PM. She entered Jeantan, and that¡¯s it. She never came out.¡±


    One of the detectives compared the photo with some documents. His face paled visibly, and he handed the document to Inspector Blois. The inspector¡¯s face turned red.


    ¡°This girl right here,¡± Luigi continued. ¡°Spring this year. May 3rd. 7:12 PM. She never came out.¡±


    Another document was passed around.


    ¡°Summer two years ago. August 30th. 11:02 AM. Never came out.¡±


    The detectives stared at Luigi¡¯s half-open eyes like they were looking at something horrifying. One after another, documents were handed out, and those who looked through them were rendered speechless.


    Kazuya stood up and peered into the documents.


    All the women in the photographs Luigi had selected were those who vanished in the darkness. Women who suddenly disappeared somewhere in Saubreme and have yet to be found. The time of their disappearance matched with the date and time that Luigi recounted.


    Inspector Blois groaned. ¡°So these people really did disappear in Jeantan?¡±


    The conference room was filled with a strange silence.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on, then? Why do people disappear in Jeantan? What¡¯s their purpose? We need clues.¡±


    This would be the time when the inspector would come to St. Marguerite Academy, climb to the top of the library, pretend to be talking to Kazuya, and use the Wellspring of Wisdom of the little detective, Victorique. But that wasn¡¯t possible at the moment. They were in a city far from the village, and Victorique was not around.


    Kazuya wanted to solve this mystery. But no matter how hard he tried to wrap his head around it, he didn¡¯t know what to do.


    ¡°I know!¡± Kazuya exclaimed.


    Inspector Blois turned to him. ¡°What is it, Kujou?¡±


    ¡°I called Victorique earlier. Though I wasn¡¯t really able to talk to her¡­ Let¡¯s explain everything that¡¯s happened to her and ask for her help. I¡¯m sure she can clarify things for us.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Inspector Blois¡¯ response was immediate.


    ¡°Wh-Why not?¡± Kazuya asked, confused.


    ¡°Because the price is too great.¡±


    Kazuya cocked his head. ¡°Price?¡±


    Inspector Blois did not answer. The clock ticked away.


    In the corner of the conference room, Kazuya heaved a deep sigh. ¡°Let¡¯s call Victorique, Inspector. I¡¯m sure she can help.¡±


    ¡°No! I don¡¯t wanna!¡± the inspector shouted.


    The childish remark caught Kazuya off-guard. ¡°Why are you so against it? And what exactly do you mean by price?¡±


    The inspector pouted like a child and remained silent for a while, but eventually he opened his mouth, albeit with hesitation. ¡°If you really want her help, then you ask for it. Do not mention my name.¡±


    ¡°What?!¡± Kazuya snapped.


    The inspector was doing the usual thing, and it pissed him off. He would rely on his sister¡¯s help, but when the case was solved, he would insist that he did it on his own and take all the credit. And for some reason, he was always scared of Victorique.


    ¡°Be reasonable,¡± Kazuya said. ¡°You ask for her help.¡±


    ¡°You can ask for help all you want, and you¡¯ll be fine. But not me.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t understand, Kujou. That¡­ thing is a¡­ Gray Wolf. A terrifying creature. You don¡¯t know anything yet. I¡¯ve learned the hard way that the cost of asking for help is terribly high. And I¡¯m not alone on this one. It¡¯s everyone from the Blois family.¡±


    ¡°Victorique is a terrifying creature?¡±


    Kazuya laughed a little. He remembered the time when Victorique tripped over his foot and fell flat on her face, how she looked teary-eyed when he flicked her forehead, and the way she glanced around in wonder at the things she¡¯d never seen before.


    It was, however, true that Victorique was incredibly smart and had a very complicated personality.


    ¡°You¡¯re just exaggerating,¡± Kazuya said.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know anything yet,¡± the inspector repeated.


    Kazuya chuckled. ¡°You¡¯re talking about her devilish demands, right? You pay a price for her help. I think it¡¯s adorable.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s not!¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it just bringing her some rare snacks, or finding mysterious cases? Sure, Victorique can be a little bit mean at times¡­¡±


    ¡°Snacks? Cases? Are you stupid?¡±


    ¡°What did you say?!¡±


    The inspector sighed heavily and pointed to his head. ¡°Do you know why I¡¯m wearing my hair like this?¡± he asked with a serious face.


    Kazuya had no answer. He stared at Inspector Blois¡¯s blonde hair, twisting like a drill and fixed using hair gel.


    ¡°I thought you liked the style,¡± Kazuya said.


    ¡°Of course not! Are you insane?!¡±


    ¡°Victorique said it was genetic.¡±


    ¡°That little twerp¡­¡±


    Inspector Blois stamped his feet like a child. In a way, his immature and feisty response was oddly reminiscent of Victorique.


    Yup, they¡¯re siblings all right, Kazuya thought as he watched the man.


    Eventually, Inspector Blois calmed down a bit. ¡°It happened five years ago,¡± he began. ¡°She was still in the Blois family¡¯s tower back then. I went to check on her from time to time. She was a creepy Gray Wolf, but she was my sister. I was curious how she was doing.¡±


    Kazuya recalled what Victorique had said about her brother Grevil de Blois when she showed him the ¡°magic ring¡± yesterday.


    ¡°I was locked up in the tower, and for some odd reason Grevil came to see me every day and silently observed me, which I found quite creepy.¡±


    ¡°Victorique told me just the other day about how her brother was so creepy back then because he would stare at her without saying a word.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s the creepy one! She¡¯s too smart! Apathetic, showed no interest about her family, and just indifferent. She was terrifying.¡± He breathed a deep sigh. ¡°One day, I had to ask the horrid creature¡¯s help¡­ It was for a certain lady.¡±


    Inspector Blois¡¯ face turned a little red. ¡°I really wanted to solve the case. The lady was about to be charged with a crime she did not commit. I steeled myself and climbed that dark and eerie tower to ask for her help. The mind of a Gray Wolf is a horrifying thing. The case was solved in no time at all.¡± Inspector Blois pointed to his hair. ¡°As payment, I¡¯m to forever keep this hairdo.¡±


    ¡°Did you know it was weird?¡±


    ¡°Of course I did! But I made a promise!¡± He heaved another sigh and took his pipe out from his pocket with shaky hands. He lit it, took a puff, and let out a smoky sigh. ¡°That¡¯s not all. I asked for help again two years ago. She was already in St. Marguerite Academy then. I had just become a police inspector and I really wanted to make a name for myself. The case was quickly solved with her help, of course, but ever since then, my two men have to hold hands at all times.¡±


    ¡°I thought they were just close.¡±


    ¡°That one wasn¡¯t so bad. They¡¯re childhood friends, though not close enough to walk hand in hand. I mean, we¡¯re talking about grownups here.¡±


    Kazuya could not believe it. He was finally beginning to understand what the inspector meant when he said, ¡°The privilege you enjoy is so odd, it¡¯s like getting free money from an unscrupulous loan shark.¡± At the same time, he was stunned at how childish Victorique¡¯s demands were despite her claims that they were devilish.


    Why did she help him when they first met?


    Sure, she asked him to bring her some rare delicacy, but it was not a taxing demand, and more importantly, there was nothing devilish about it at all. The spite that she usually wielded with all her might in her small hands was nowhere to be found.


    Perhaps Victorique actually treated him way nicer than most people? By her standards, of course.


    Then he remembered the reply he received before he left the academy. It contained only the word ¡°Idiot.¡± And when he called her earlier for help, she just said idiot. Anger flared within him.


    ¡°You keep pestering me for cases, saying you¡¯re bored, but when I got one for you, you¡¯re too grumpy to even listen!¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about, Kujou?¡±


    ¡°N-Nothing¡­¡±


    Kazuya sighed.


    The detectives were whispering at each other, staring in their direction. They were getting impatient.


    Kazuya stood up and asked a nearby detective if he could use the phone. ¡°I just want to call a friend,¡± he said.


    Kazuya turned to the inspector, who kept mumbling under his breath. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll ask her myself. But this is the last time I¡¯m doing this.¡±


    ¡°Remember: you¡¯re the one asking her for help.¡±


    ¡°I get it already. A man does not go back on his words. You look like you do, though.¡±


    Kazuya grabbed the receiver, and asked the operator to connect him to St. Marguerite Academy.

 Volume 3 - CH 5.1

    ¡ªBedroom 4¡ª


    St. Marguerite Academy, far from the reach of Saubreme¡¯s hubbub, lay in silence at the foot of the mountains.


    The faculty room on the first floor of the large U-shaped school building was the most modest and practical room in this otherwise luxurious school. The desks, chairs, wallpaper, and other furnishings were sparsely decorated. The whole space was brown overall.


    On the large desk in the middle sat a young, petite woman. Ms. Cecile. She was grading exams, reading the students¡¯ answers and expressing her admiration at some of them.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been at this for hours and I¡¯m still not done,¡± she grumbled. ¡°I wonder why¡­ Maybe dwarves are coming at night adding papers to the stack.¡± She looked up and sighed.


    The phone on the wall started ringing. She quickly got up and picked up the receiver.


    The operator told her that someone was calling from Saubreme¡¯s police department. For a moment Ms. Cecile was rattled, but when she heard Kazuya¡¯s voice on the other end of the phone, she calmed down.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s you,¡± she mumbled in relief. ¡°Did you want to hear Victorique¡¯s voice again?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Let¡¯s just go with that.¡± He didn¡¯t sound very genuine. Ms. Cecile smiled. ¡°I¡¯ve been away from Victorique for a day, and I¡¯m just dying to hear her voice. Happy? I¡¯m in a hurry, so please give her the phone.¡±


    ¡°Okay. I¡¯ll be back in a minute.¡±


    What¡¯s he so mad about? Ms. Cecile wondered.


    Darkness was creeping in on the huge flowerbed maze in the corner of the campus. White, and pink, and yellow petals swayed uneasily in the wind.


    Past the labyrinth, in a small bedroom of a small house, Victorique was curled up inside the comforter of her canopied bed, not moving an inch.


    Ms. Cecile opened the door softly and peered inside. Staring at the bulge on the comforter, she murmured, ¡°Is that her?¡± She poked it with her finger.


    ¡°Who is it?¡± came a husky, arrogant voice from under the covers.


    ¡°You have another call.¡±


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s you.¡± Victorique shifted.


    After the painful injection, she returned to bed and fell asleep. Either the medication proved effective, or she fainted from the shock. She felt like she just had a strange dream, but she couldn¡¯t remember what it was.


    Victorique opened her eyes, but her vision was still blurry from the fever. Her head also hurt, and she could not think straight.


    ¡°I¡¯m done with you,¡± she hissed vacantly.


    ¡°Is that so? But you¡¯re good friends with Kujou, right?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s¡­ my stupid servant, yes.¡±


    ¡°Oh, okay. If you say that to him, he¡¯ll get angry. You don¡¯t want him angry, right?¡±


    ¡°Indeed. He¡¯s so annoying when angry.¡±


    Victorique slowly rose from the bed and poked her head out from under the covers. Ms. Cecile looked surprised. Victorique brushed the long golden hair out of her face with her small hands, frowned at her sweaty nightgown, and then turned to Ms. Cecile.


    ¡°What is it?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Your face is beet red.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Was the shot not effective?¡±


    ¡°Phone¡­ phone¡­ phone¡­¡±


    Victorique rose to her feet, but staggered and fell on her buttocks. It felt as if someone had slapped her small and round bottom. She almost cried from the pain, but she held back the tears and stood back up.


    She wobbled again, so Ms. Cecile put Victorique back on the bed.


    ¡°Just stay in bed,¡± the teacher said. ¡°I¡¯ll tell Kujou myself.¡±


    Victorique frowned. ¡°I¡¯ll take the call,¡± she said stubbornly.


    ¡°No, you can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I said I¡¯m taking the call!¡±


    Hugging a large pillow, Victorique tottered to the next room.


    ¡°Victorique! Are you there? What took you so long? I bet you were reading a thick Latin book again, eating macaroons, saying ¡®Who¡¯s Kujou?¡¯. Hello?¡±


    After all that effort of picking up the phone, Victorique felt like hanging up now.


    Stupid Kujou¡­ Always with the annoying tongue. And he¡¯s even worse over the phone¡­


    Only the fever prevented her from cursing at Kazuya.


    Before she could speak, Kazuya said, ¡°We have a huge problem over here. And I mean huge. People are disappearing from a department store, a girl was rambling on about demons before she fainted, and this room in the department store changed completely. So¡ª¡±


    ¡°Kujou¡­¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on, but I¡¯m hanging up.¡±


    As she was about to put down the receiver, she heard Kazuya scream. Frowning, Victorique reluctantly brought the phone back to her red ear.


    ¡°Don¡¯t hang up, please! I need your help!¡±


    ¡°No, you don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I truly believe you¡¯re a kind girl who cares about her friends.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not fooling me.¡± She was holding the heavy receiver with shaky hands. Her legs were wobbly, and her arms were getting tired, so she sat down on the floor and leaned against the wall. ¡°Explain it to me,¡± she said in between gasps.


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I am bored. It better be an interesting case.¡±


    ¡°It is. It¡¯s a strange case, and I can¡¯t make heads or tails of it. But I don¡¯t know how you¡¯d feel about it. I still don¡¯t know what it would take to stave off your boredom. Sorry.¡±


    ¡°No need to apologize. Start from the beginning. What you said just now made zero sense.¡±


    She could hear Kazuya taking a deep breath. Breathing heavily, Victorique listened carefully.


    Kazuya began recounting everything.


    A female classmate had told him about stories set in Saubreme, the capital of the Kingdom of Sauville. A young lady entered a department store¡¯s fitting room and disappeared, leaving only a bloody head, and someone disappearing after following what seemed like a lost child. There was also a story about a killer pretending to be a hobo, walking around with children¡¯s corpses in their clothes.


    Kazuya also told her about how he met Inspector Grevil de Blois on the train to Saubreme. The inspector told him about the frequent disappearances happening in Saubreme over the last few years, a case dubbed ¡°Those Who Vanished Into the Darkness.¡± He thought that perhaps the stories were based on real incidents.


    Inspector Blois was asked by the Saubreme Metropolitan Police Department to investigate the smuggling routes of art works that disappeared during the war.


    Kazuya, upon arriving in Saubreme, got lost in Jeantan and entered a strange room. When he returned with the police, the room had changed, and a girl he saw had been replaced by a mannequin. The sales staff insisted that they had not seen him before.


    Later he met the girl again, and she was scared. She claimed she was dragged into the looking glass through the fitting room, and that others with her were being sacrificed in demonic rituals.


    ¡°Achoo!¡±


    While listening intently, Victorique sneezed.


    ¡°What was that?¡± Kazuya asked, startled.


    ¡°Achoo! Achoo! Achoo!¡±


    ¡°Are you sneezing? What a weird sneeze!¡±


    Victorique slammed down the phone, breathing hard. Her fever was rising.


    Ms. Cecile appeared. ¡°Victorique, it¡¯s Kujou again.¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s very mad. Did you have a fight?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s mad? The nerve!¡±


    Breathing hotly, Victorique took the receiver with trembling hands, then crouched down on the floor again. She shivered.


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Why did you hang up?! You idiot!¡±


    ¡°What?!¡± Victorique gave a start.


    ¡°Listen,¡± Kazuya said. ¡°If you hang up again, we¡¯re done.¡±


    Victorique was on the verge of tears. ¡°I don¡¯t want that,¡± she said shakily.


    ¡°Me neither! Wait, what?¡±


    Kazuya sensed something wrong.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± he asked, creeped out. ¡°The Victorique de Blois I know is not this meek. Are you not feeling well? Oh, right. You caught a cold this morning. Did your temperature go up?¡±


    ¡°It did,¡± she growled.


    For a while Kazuya rambled on about some incomprehensible cold remedy from his country. ¡°Sauville leeks should be fine. You stick two of those in your nose. And sour pickled fruit in your belly button. Also¡­ Hello? Are you listening? I guess you don¡¯t really care, huh? Oh, you got a shot? You should be good, then. Must¡¯ve hurt, huh? You cried from a forehead flick, after all! Hello? Are you mad at me?¡±


    ¡°I will never help you even if you were in mortal trouble.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re such a handful. If you don¡¯t help, then you¡¯re just another mean girl.¡±


    Victorique¡¯s green eyes widened and grew moist. Squeezing the receiver tight with both hands, she said, ¡°I-I¡¯m not mean¡­¡±


    ¡°Then help me!¡±


    Kazuya was bossier than usual, and a little mean. Her mind hazy from the fever, Victorique realized that he was acting brash because he was talking to her over the phone from somewhere far away. Her eyes glinted. She was thinking about how to torment Kazuya once her fever broke and he returned to the academy.


    ¡°Kujou,¡± she said. ¡°Find a paperweight.¡±


    ¡°¡­For what?¡±

 Volume 3 - CH 5.2

    Chapter 5: The Darkness of Jeantan


    ¡°A paperweight?¡± Kazuya asked.


    Inspector Grevil de Blois, who had been furiously listening to Kazuya¡¯s and Victorique¡¯s exchange, suddenly brought his ear close to the receiver. His drill-shaped hair stabbed Kazuya¡¯s cheek.


    ¡°Ouch!¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s going on there?¡±


    ¡°Your brother just came at me like a madman. Go away!¡±


    ¡°Is Grevil there?¡± Victorique¡¯s voice turned grim.


    Kazuya turned to the inspector, who instantly moved away from the phone, struck a pose, and shook his head as if to say, ¡®I¡¯m not here.¡¯


    ¡°He is. But he says not to tell you that.¡±


    Inspector Blois stared daggers at Kazuya.


    ¡°I¡¯m the one asking for help, not the inspector. If there really is someone out there kidnapping people, I have to do something. I think Inspector Blois just wants to impress or something. He¡¯s dead set on making a name for himself in Saubreme.¡±


    ¡°Ah, Jacqueline!¡± Victorique muttered.


    ¡°Jacqueline?¡± Kazuya said, glancing at Inspector Blois.


    The inspector turned away as soon as he heard the name. It was the same name that Inspector Blois blurted out when he spotted a lady down at the train station.


    Victorique gave no signs of answering Kazuya¡¯s question. She seemed to be suffering from a much worse cold than he had thought. She occasionally gasped for air and barely managed to speak.


    ¡°Did you find a glass paperweight?¡±


    ¡°Give me a sec.¡± Kazuya looked around the conference room. He spotted a rugged glass paperweight sitting on top of a stack of papers. ¡°I found one.¡±


    ¡°Take it.¡±


    ¡°Done.¡±


    ¡°Lift it up.¡±


    ¡°Okay¡­ done.¡±


    ¡°Drop it on the floor.¡±


    Kazuya fell silent.


    ¡°Just do as I say¡ªAchoo!¡±


    Kazuya looked around the conference room. The detectives were staring at him with bated breath, wondering what he was doing. Following Victorique¡¯s instructions, he dropped the paperweight to the floor.


    The hunk of glass fell slowly.


    The moment it hit the hard floor, it shattered into pieces.


    For a moment, Kazuya just stared at the smashed paperweight. ¡°It shattered,¡± he said.


    ¡°Do you get it now, you simpleton?¡± She coughed.


    ¡°G-Get what?¡±


    ¡°Why did those guys at Jeantan lie to you? The answer lies in front of you. It¡¯s why they changed the decor after you left, and why they insisted that they never saw you.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°You dropped a lot of things in that room: a metal comb, a brooch, and a Blue Rose paperweight that was supposed to be made of glass. But the paperweight didn¡¯t break. Why is that?¡±


    Kazuya¡¯s expression changed.


    ¡°Because the Blue Rose that you dropped was not made of glass.¡±


    ¡°Really?!¡±


    ¡°If it were glass, it would have shattered. But a real diamond would not break. What you saw in that room was not a paperweight¡­¡± Her voice trailed off for a moment. ¡°It was the real Blue Rose,¡± she said clearly. ¡°Stolen from the royal treasury of Sauville during the Great War. I believe the entrance to the darkness that is Jeantan is also the site of the illegal art trade that Grevil is so eager to find.¡±


    The door to the conference room opened, and the detectives assigned to the missing persons cases entered. The Superintendent-General, Mr. Signore, entered last, regarding Inspector Blois silently.


    The inspector squared his shoulders. ¡°I believe both the smuggling and the kidnapping are happening in Jeantan.¡±


    He wished to raid Jeantan and search for evidence. A few detectives agreed with him, but most were skeptical and concerned about the high social status of the owner, Mr. Garnier.


    Inspector Blois repeated his theory, and when asked if he would take responsibility, he said in a hard tone, ¡°If I¡¯m wrong, I will resign from the force.¡±


    Kazuya was taken aback by the serious expression on his face. He had never seen the man look so serious in all the cases he investigated back at the village. The inspector was so determined to pull off something big in Saubreme. Kazuya assumed that he became a police inspector for fun. He never thought he¡¯d be wanting a career at headquarters.


    Mr. Signore gave his approval to search Jeantan.


    Dusk was slowly settling on the dry streets of Saubreme.


    A hundred police officers from the police department surrounded Jeantan. The face of Inspector Blois, the man leading the charge, was full of confidence.


    ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡± Mr. Garnier, the owner of Jeantan, regarded Inspector Blois with a thin smile. When he saw Kazuya beside him, he raised an eyebrow. ¡°Is this about this morning?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± The inspector showed him a document issued by the police department and stamped by the Superintendent-General, Mr. Signore. ¡°We have a search warrant for Jeantan. We¡¯re coming in.¡±


    ¡°What are you looking for exactly?¡±


    ¡°Missing girls and the Blue Rose.¡±


    For a split-second, Mr. Garnier¡¯s expression changed. Then the next instant, he started laughing. Inspector Blois gave a start. The staff behind Mr. Garnier laughed as well.


    There was no emotion in their faces. They were as expressionless as Noh masks.


    Kazuya looked away.


    Amid the laughter, the officers entered Jeantan.


    ¡°Did you find anything?¡±


    ¡°No, sir!¡±


    ¡°Search harder! It must be here!¡±


    Shouting at each other, Inspector Blois and the officers continued examining the inside of the department store.


    Kazuya followed the inspector to the room where he had first wandered in, a room full of glass cases.


    The glass cases were full of sparkling and glamorous items, but none of them were stolen art or particularly expensive. The officers checking the storage area below also reported finding nothing.


    They couldn¡¯t find neither the artworks nor the missing girls. Only fake paperweights and jewelry in the room above, and mannequins in the storage area.


    Inspector Blois paced around irritably. ¡°That can¡¯t be right!¡± he hissed. He slammed his fist on a glass case and bit his lip. ¡°Kujou,¡± he called. ¡°The secret lies inside Jeantan. The Blue Rose you found was in a room in the department store¡ªhere. And the Russian girl you brought with you told us that they were locked in a room in Jeantan. She said she could see the royal palace from the window. And when a little girl asked Luigi for help, she came running out of here.¡± He paused, then in a frustrated tone, added, ¡°Everything should be here, inside.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Kazuya was kneeling on the floor, deep in thought.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Inspector Blois asked curiously.


    ¡°When I first entered this room and found the real Blue Rose, the wallpaper was brown and the floor was covered in black and white tiles. The chandelier was also flower-shaped. It was an elegant room. But when I returned here with you, the wallpaper had changed to gold and the chandelier had changed shape too. The items in the glass case had been replaced, and the floor was covered in a red carpet. The room was transformed into something sickening.¡±


    ¡°Yes. What about it?¡±


    Kazuya grabbed the edge of the red carpet on the floor and pulled as hard as he could.


    ¡°I see,¡± the inspector breathed.


    Black and white tiles appeared from underneath, gleaming coldly.


    ¡°Mr. Garnier tricked us!¡± Slowly, he rose to his feet.


    Kazuya and Inspector Blois stood there, staring at each other.


    Hearing shouts from the police officers, Kazuya and Inspector Blois rushed into the high-end women¡¯s clothing department on the third floor of Jeantan.


    The officers were examining one of the fitting rooms.


    The voice of the strange old lady came to Kazuya¡¯s mind.


    ¡°My daughter wanted a dress. I told her I would buy it for her. She took the dress and went into the fitting room by herself. I waited for her to come out, and when I opened the door, she was gone. There was nobody there.¡±


    Kazuya and the inspector looked in the direction the officer was pointing.


    The door to the fitting room was open. It was surrounded by walls on three sides, the furthest wall having a mirror. The mirror moved slowly. Kazuya and the inspector exchanged glances.


    ¡°I waited for her to come out¡­¡±


    Beyond the mirror was a small room that could hold three to four people.


    ¡°¡­and when I opened the door, she was gone.¡±


    ¡°There was nobody there.¡±


    Anastasia¡¯s voice sprang to mind this time.


    ¡°I entered the fitting room. When the door closed, the mirror opened.¡±


    ¡°I was dragged into the mirror.¡±


    ¡°I found many others like me, crying.¡±


    ¡°We were trapped in the looking glass.¡±


    Kazuya shuddred.


    The looking glass. This small room is the place that Anastasia was talking about!


    The officers searched the small room and found nothing.


    Mr. Garnier shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s a storage space,¡± he said. ¡°We barely use it, though.¡±


    ¡°But¡ª¡±


    Inspector Blois cut Kazuya off. He then produced a pocket watch from his pocket and glanced at it. A hint of panic flashed in his face. Kazuya bit his lip.


    ¡°I understand what you¡¯re trying to say, Kujou. There¡¯s a hidden room at the back of the fitting room. The girls who entered the department store and never came out may have been taken from here. But we have no evidence. None at all. This is not enough proof. If they insist it¡¯s just a storage space, there¡¯s nothing we can do.¡±


    ¡°But still!¡±


    ¡°Why are people disappearing? Their motives also remain a mystery.¡±


    Kazuya recalled Anastasia¡¯s voice.


    ¡°Demons come and perform a ritual. They lock us up for the ritual.¡±


    ¡°Demonic rituals! Demons! Demonic rituals!¡±


    ¡°We are sacrifices. Demons surround us and recite weird incantations. They raise their hands like this.¡±


    Kazuya shook his head. Inspector Blois also bit his lip in frustration.


    ¡°Anastasia said something about sacrifices for demonic rituals,¡± Kazuya said.


    ¡°That can¡¯t be true,¡± the inspector replied. ¡°What we need to find is the missing artworks from the royal treasury. And then the girls who disappeared from here. We need concrete evidence. It must be in this department store somewhere. We have to find it.¡±


    The inspector glanced at the pocket watch again. Kazuya looked at it as well. It was 6:30 PM. The light from the setting sun shone on them through the window.


    The police officers stared at Inspector Blois with puzzled looks. Mr. Garnier and his staff stood at a distance, grinning.


    ¡°We¡¯re gonna run out of time soon,¡± Inspector Blois mumbled.


    Kazuya sighed heavily.


    Mr. Garnier and his employees approached the officers.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s time to give up, gentlemen,¡± the man said with a small smile. ¡°It¡¯s already been an hour. I doubt you¡¯ll find anything. After all, there are no hidden rooms in Jeantan.¡±


    ¡°No¡ª¡±


    ¡°Enough!¡± Mr. Garnier roared. ¡°Now get out of here!¡±


    Kazuya stepped forward. ¡°Excuse me, can I borrow your phone?¡± Inspector Blois tried to say something, but he cut him off. ¡°I know. I¡¯m the one asking for help.¡±


    ¡°You better mean that.¡±


    Mr. Garnier regarded them quizzically, but eventually nodded. ¡°I suppose that¡¯s fine.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Kazuya gave a small nod.

 Volume 3 - CH 6.1

    ¡ªBedroom 5¡ª


    Dusk was slowly creeping in on St. Marguerite Academy, painting the vast campus a bright orange. The air, hot and humid during the day, had cooled, and a pleasant breeze whistled through the gardens occasionally.


    The office on the ground floor of the main school building was quiet.


    Ms. Cecile was standing by the wall with fear in her eyes. She was in front of the telephone, holding the receiver.


    ¡°Yes, I understand.¡± Her voice was grim, her expression dark. ¡°Our monitoring was inadequate. We are terribly sorry.¡±


    She could hear the happy chatter of students passing by outside. It was almost curfew. Students who had been spending their time all over the place were on their way back to their respective dormitories.


    ¡°Please, Marquis Blois,¡± Ms. Cecile said in a hard voice. She hesitated a little before continuing. ¡°I promise you that nothing like that will ever happen again. We have increased the number of guards and I¡¯m constantly reminding her myself. And the student who went with her is a straight-laced boy. He accompanied Victorique and made sure she got back to the academy safely. If I tell him not to do it again, he really won¡¯t do it again. He¡¯s a trustworthy student. Yes¡­¡±


    Ms. Cecile listened to the other person¡¯s voice before interrupting. ¡°If you could leave her to us a little longer. I promise we¡¯ll watch her closely. No, a monastery is too much. She won¡¯t fit in. Even now, Victorique doesn¡¯t attend classes. She¡¯s not used to people yet. Introducing her to an all-female ascetic lifestyle will not¡­ end well.¡± She muttered the last few words with a sigh.


    ¡°Please, leave her to us,¡± she repeated over and over before hanging up. She put down the receiver with a heavy sigh, and hung her head for a while.


    Then suddenly she lifted her head. She looked angry. Her eyes were wide open, and her large, round glasses were slipping off.


    ¡°A monastery? What a horrible man! Only nasty nobles would come up with that idea. Argh!¡±


    She swung her right leg up and tried to kick the back of the nearest chair, but she miscalculated and hit nothing. Her skirt flipped and her white muslin petticoat and muslin underwear billowed out. At that exact moment, an older teacher entered the office.


    ¡°What are you doing, Cecile?¡± they asked, pressing their glasses.


    ¡°Oh, uh, nothing.¡±


    ¡°You were dancing by yourself, weren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°N-No. I wouldn¡¯t do that.¡± But she couldn¡¯t tell them that she tried to kick a chair and missed.


    ¡°You should take it easy, Cecile. You¡¯re no longer a student. You¡¯re a teacher now.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± Ms. Cecile sulked and turned her back on the old teacher.


    The village doctor, the gardener, and now this nagging old teacher. There were surprisingly many people who knew about her life as a student¡ªshe wasn¡¯t particularly bright back then either¡ªin the academy. She would always get told to get her act together, which caused her stress.


    The phone in front of her started ringing, and she quickly picked it up. The operator told her that it was from Saubreme, this time from a department store called Jeantan. Ms. Cecile was a little annoyed, but relieved to hear Kazuya, a student she particularly liked.


    ¡°Hello? Kujou?¡± She sounded a little happy. ¡°You really love listening to Victorique¡¯s¡ª¡±


    ¡°No!¡± the boy snapped.


    Chapter 6: Alexandrite


    ¡°So, you see, Victorique. We almost got it, but we¡¯re kinda stuck. Inspector Blois might get fired if we don¡¯t do something. Not that I care, really. We just can¡¯t find the hidden room.¡±


    ¡°Kujou,¡± Victorique said. ¡°You sure talk a lot.¡± She sounded like she was gasping for air.


    ¡°R-Really?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re starting to piss me off.¡±


    ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯ll be quiet.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡­¡­¡±


    ¡°Victorique? Are you awake?¡±


    ¡°Shut up!¡±


    ¡°S-Sorry.¡±


    Kazuya hung his head and waited patiently. He could hear Victorique groaning on the other side.


    ¡°Kujou,¡± she said finally.


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Get some Blue John.¡±


    ¡°¡­What?¡±


    Blue John was the name of the fluorite that Victorique used to threaten Inspector Blois when she was a child.


    Victorique¡¯s cold was much worse than Kazuya had expected; she would pause occasionally to catch her breath.


    ¡°If there¡¯s a secret room where they¡¯re hiding the kidnapped girls and children¡­¡± She paused. ¡°Its window should be facing the square in front of the royal palace.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°The girl you helped said she could see the royal palace from the window, didn¡¯t she?¡±


    ¡°Oh, right!¡±


    ¡°Mark all the windows facing the royal palace with Blue John powder. Write down numbers from right to left so it will be easy to see. It will be 7 p.m. soon.¡±


    ¡°What happens at seven?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s closing time. When the store is closed and the lights are turned off, all the windows will be illuminated with blue phosphorescent numbers.¡± She paused for breath again. ¡°But there will be no number on the window of the secret room.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    Kazuya pulled his face away from the receiver and called Inspector Blois. After whispering the instructions she had given, the inspector nodded and went to give orders to the officers.


    Kazuya thanked Victorique, but before he could hang up the phone, she said, ¡°Kujou, I¡¯ve only heard the case from you, but¡­¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­¡±


    ¡°Anastasia kept talking about demons and demonic rituals. And an eagle with two heads. What do you think she meant by those? Apparently, Satanism and bizarre religious rituals from the colonies are secretly spreading in Europe.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no such thing as demons, Kujou.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I know that, but still.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not demons, but humans. The two-headed eagle she saw¡­¡± Her voice grew weaker.


    ¡°Sorry for pushing you so hard,¡± Kazuya said worriedly. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure to bring you back a souvenir.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want any. It¡¯s probably going to be something weird again.¡±


    ¡°What?!¡±


    ¡°Anyway, it¡¯s not demons.¡± Victorique¡¯s voice dropped low. ¡°Do you remember the Alexandrite ring?¡±


    Kazuya recalled the ring that Victorique had on her finger. A mysterious ring that changed color to red or green depending on the light.


    ¡°You mean the magic ring, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Victorique gasped for air. ¡°This case is just like an alexandrite. It changes color if you look at it from different angles, but it¡¯s the same stone. Do you understand?¡±


    ¡°Nope. Not at all.¡±


    An exasperated silence came from the phone. Victorique grunted, then mumbled in her husky voice, ¡°I believe something terrible is happening in the secret room.¡±


    Kazuya and Inspector Blois, along with the police officers, ran around the department store, writing numbers from right to left in all the glass windows facing the palace square.


    Fluorescent powder stuck to their hair and clothes. When they were done marking all the windows from the first to the sixth floor, Inspector Blois took out his pocket watch and checked the time. It was almost seven o¡¯clock, closing time for Jeantan.


    Kazuya and Inspector Blois nodded at each other, then frowned, realizing that they were acting like partners.


    ¡°Stop looking at me,¡± the inspector said.


    ¡°That¡¯s my line.¡±


    They exited the department store and headed toward the square.


    Despite it being early summer, the sun had already set. The square in front of the royal palace was lit by a number of dim gas lamps, but the darkness was as thick as a dark swamp. The guards, in their resplendent gold-and-red uniforms, surrounded Kazuya, the inspector, and the police officers, eyeing them suspiciously.


    The inspector ignored them and pointed at Jeantan. ¡°Look!¡±


    It was exactly 7:00 PM.


    The lights in Jeantan, the largest department store in Saubreme, filled with luxury goods and foreign staff from all over Europe, all went out at once.


    For a moment, it was completely dark. Then slowly, in the darkness, numbers written in Blue John powder began to appear.


    The guards stood frozen, regarding Jeantan curiously. Kazuya scanned the numbers on the windows, starting from the first floor.


    Second floor.


    The third floor.


    And the fourth floor.


    There was a large window on the fifth floor between windows numbered 12 and 13, with no number written on it. It was most likely covered by curtains. He could see faint light from inside that dimmed and brightened occasionally, a sign that people were passing by the window.


    Kazuya pointed at the window, and Inspector Blois nodded.


    In the dark square, the Blue John powder in Kazuya¡¯s hair and on his clothes began to sparkle. The tip of Inspector Blois¡¯s drill-shaped hair was also glistening blue. Kazuya and the inspector nodded to each other again, frowned, and took off.


    Mr. Garnier and his staff gathered on the ground floor was surprised to see the officers returning with a grim look on their faces.


    The man frowned. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°We want to check a room on the fifth floor.¡±


    Mr. Garnier swallowed, and so did his staff. He shot his employees a glance, and they charged straight at Kazuya and the others.


    The Jeantan staff grabbed them immediately, giving no time for escape. The officers fought back, brandishing their batons, but they were bit or thrown with ridiculous force. Despite having similar numbers, the officers were having trouble.


    Inspector Blois screamed as two female staff grabbed his legs.


    The most aggressive one was a blonde-haired, brown-skinned, mixed-race staff. Holding a sharp knife in one hand, he took flight, aiming at the officers¡¯ vital points. In his hand was a military knife used in the Great War. The officers covered their vitals with their arms. Blood splattered every time their arm was cut.


    Mr. Garnier shouted something to the young man, and he turned to his boss.


    ¡°Get that oriental boy!¡± Mr. Garnier ordered, pointing at Kazuya. ¡°He¡¯s the one pulling all the strings!¡±


    The young man spun. He put the knife in his mouth, and like an animal, went down on all fours and lunged at Kazuya. Kazuya was frozen for a second, but immediately leapt back the next moment.


    The young man landed on the floor and spun around to face him. Kazuya kicked him in the face with all he had. He thought about the contents of the martial arts book that his brother had sent him. The man held his bloody face, groaning, but then grabbed the knife in his mouth and charged at Kazuya.


    The tip of the blade slipped past Kazuya¡¯s nose.


    Kazuya, paying close attention on the knife coming at him from left to right, retreated. Then Inspector Blois, who had managed to escape from the female staff, tackled the young man from behind. He turned around and raised his knife at the inspector.


    Kazuya pinned the young man from behind and strangled him with his right arm. Tighter and tighter¡­


    The young man stopped moving, and Inspector Blois took his knife.


    Suddenly, the other staff grabbed him. Inspector Blois let out a shout, then signaled Kazuya with his eyes to go.


    Weaving past the officers and the salestaff, Kazuya left the first floor.

 Volume 3 - CH 6.2

    He climbed the stairs to the fifth floor and quietly made his way down the darkened hallway.


    ¡°First window¡­ Second¡­ Third¡­¡±


    He kept counting as he went along. The numbers faintly glowed bluish-white in the darkness. It looked as if letters just floated in the air. Kazuya went on.


    ¡°Eleven¡­ twelve¡­¡±


    He stopped.


    There was a wall between the twelfth and thirteenth windows. It was hard to grasp the space inside the store, cluttered with shelves of merchandise, small aisles, mannequins. Kazuya walked around the wall.


    He could hear the footsteps of officers climbing up the stairs.


    It¡¯s very thick for a wall¡­


    The wall was crammed with expensive tapestries and Persian carpets.


    There¡¯s definitely another room here. A room with a large window and a view of the Royal Square. It has to be behind this wall.


    Kazuya flipped through the carpets and tapestries one by one.


    ¡°Kujou!¡±


    The footsteps were coming closer. He could also hear Inspector Blois calling to him. Kazuya was between the wall and the carpets. Suddenly he was struck by an odd feeling. He thought that if he continued on, he would be sucked into a bizarre space inside the wall and dragged into another world, and Inspector Blois would never find him. His head would remain, but his body would be gone.


    There were killers lurking in the department store.


    No, demons.


    Crazy people who devoted themselves to devil worship.


    The looking glass.


    Kazuya found a door.


    It was hidden by a piece of tapestry hanging on the wall. A small door. He thought it was locked, but when he gently grabbed the doorknob, it turned to the right.


    Kazuya slowly opened the door and peeked inside.


    The room was surprisingly crowded. It was much larger than it seemed from the outside, and it was darkly lit. Paintings hung on the walls, and glass cases containing glittering jewelry sat on what seemed like a small stage.


    About ten children stood on the platform, their faces contorted with fear.


    Around them stood a few salestaff from Jeantan, dressed in purple uniforms. The people crowding around them were customers. Dozens of people stood there in the darkness, staring coldly at the podium.


    Kazuya¡¯s breath seized. Anastasia¡¯s voice rang in his ears.


    ¡°Demonic rituals! Demons! Demonic rituals!¡±


    ¡°Strange rituals. We are sacrifices. Demons surround us and recite weird incantations. They raise their hands like this.¡±


    Right now, in this very room, the demonic ritual that Anastasia described was about to begin.


    One of the staff stepped forward and pushed a small child to their feet. A sacrifice. Then they smiled at the demons¡ªthe customers.


    ¡°The bidding starts at thirty thousand.¡±


    A customer quickly raised their hand. Just like what Anastasia said.


    ¡°Thirty-five thousand. Any others?¡±


    Another customer raised their hand.


    The staff nodded. ¡°Thirty-seven thousand. Forty thousand. Forty-two thousand. Fifty thousand! I have fifty thousand. Do I hear a fifty-one? Fifty-one thousand. Fifty-two thousand!¡±


    The weird incantation continued.


    It¡¯s an auction! It¡¯s not some demonic ritual. It¡¯s an auction for the stolen artworks and the girls who disappeared. Anastasia doesn¡¯t understand French, so it sounded like some strange ritual to her.


    Victorique¡¯s voice replayed in his mind.


    ¡°I believe something terrible is happening in the secret room.¡±


    ¡°This case is just like an alexandrite.¡±


    ¡°It changes color if you look at it from different angles.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s the same stone. Do you understand?¡±


    The long-established department store Jeantan was showing a different color. Kazuya recalled vividly the moment when Victorique¡¯s magic ring changed from red to green.


    The darkness of the city, opening its mouth wide and swallowing people, which in turn was swallowed by horror stories, human desires given form.


    Darkness.


    ¡°This case is an Alexandrite, Kujou.¡±


    ¡°Kujou!¡± The inspector grabbed him by the shoulder.


    Startled by the man¡¯s voice, the dark room became silent. The staff and customers turned around slowly at the same time. Their faces were devoid of emotions, expressionless as Noh masks.


    Outside the window, the moon turned brighter. The wind had blown away the clouds that were covering it. Moonlight shone on all their faces.


    Cold, expressionless faces that did not seem human. A crowd of ghosts wrapped in darkness.


    The silence only lasted a moment. The staff screamed, and the customers scrambled in all directions, trying to escape.


    ¡°Round them all up!¡±


    The police officers surrounded them.


    One by one, the staff and customers were arrested, handcuffed, and taken away. There were glass cases in one corner of the room, filled with works of art. A necklace inlaid with a huge gem, a crown, a black-and-white pearl pendant¡ªitems Kazuya had seen in art textbooks at least once.


    Kazuya reached for the glass case in the middle with shaky hands. Inside was a rare blue diamond, shaped like a large rose in bloom.


    Sauville¡¯s national treasure¡ªthe Blue Rose.


    Kazuya took the Blue Rose in his hand. It was much heavier than it looked. He raised his arm and slammed it down.


    The Blue Rose fell and caused a scratch on the floor. There was no scratch on the glowing diamond. A police officer picked it up and confiscated it as evidence along with the other artifacts.


    Inspector Blois nodded in satisfaction. ¡°I have solved both the art theft and the missing persons cases. Gentlemen, go report to Mr. Signore.¡± He then turned toward the door.


    The door slowly opened, admitting Mr. Garnier. He looked at Inspector Blois with a soft smile of resignation. His lips curved cynically. ¡°End of the line, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°It would seem so,¡± the inspector replied.


    ¡°Wealth and status built up over six years since the end of the Great War, gone in the blink of an eye.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll hear what you have to say down at the station.¡± Inspector Blois puffed out his chest and cuffed Mr. Garnier¡¯s hands. There was a loud clatter. ¡°Take him away.¡±


    The officers nodded and left the room with Mr. Garnier.


    The next morning.


    Kazuya was summoned by Inspector Blois to the Sauville police department.


    In the brick building across the Charles de Gilet train station, countless police officers milled about, apparently busy with last night¡¯s incident.


    Mr. Garnier and his gang, who were arrested last night, were being questioned by the police.


    Mr. Garnier was surprisingly quick to confess to his crimes. He was part of the gang that raided the Sauville royal treasury during the Great War, and with the money he made from the looting, he bought the long-established department store Jeantan. The store became the base of his operations, and Mr. Garnier¡¯s business grew rapidly in just six years after the end of the war.


    Meanwhile, the rescued kids were confined to the hospital. They would be asked questions once they had recovered.


    Kazuya met the Russian girl, Anastasia, in a room at the station. She seemed to be in remarkably good health, and when she noticed Kazuya, she smiled.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said. ¡°When you opened the crate and I saw your face, you seemed kind-hearted. I thought you might be able to help me, so I asked for help. Thank you so much.¡± The terrified look she had on her face was gone, replaced with the carefree smile typical of a girl her age.


    Kazuya was relieved. Apparently, Anastasia had contacted her relatives in the suburbs of Saubreme, and they were taking her in.


    ¡°I¡¯ll write you,¡± she said with a smile, and Kazuya left the room.


    The old lady in front of Jeantan was also taken into custody because of her connection to the case. The police asked her to testify about her missing daughter and said they would search for her daughter along with the other missing people.


    The old woman was sitting meekly on a chair. She wasn¡¯t wearing her coat this time, so Kazuya could finally see what was swaying eerily inside her clothes. A girly hat with a ribbon, a rolled-up dress, and a bag, all tied together with a string, hanging from her neck. The officers said that they probably belonged to her missing daughter. That was what was actually hidden inside her ragged clothes, and what inspired the horror story.


    Inspector Blois disappeared in a hurry when he was told by an officer that the Superintendent-General Mr. Signore and other bigshots wanted a report. Kazuya was sitting in the small room with nothing to do, when he noticed an officer standing in the hallway.


    ¡°Can I borrow your phone?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Sure, but who are you calling?¡±


    ¡°Um, a friend of mine.¡±


    The officer nodded and led Kazuya to the room with a phone.


    Kazuya thanked him, picked up the receiver, and asked the operator to connect him to St. Marguerite Academy. He explained the situation to Ms. Cecile and asked her to reroute the call to Victorique¡¯s dorm.


    Victorique seemed to have recovered from her cold overnight, but she was in a terrible mood. Or maybe she was just skittish because of her cold yesterday, and now she had reverted back to her usual self.


    ¡°I¡¯m not talking to you!¡± she snapped.


    ¡°Why not? Anyway, forget that. Listen.¡±


    ¡°Forget?!¡±


    Kazuya, perhaps because they were talking over the phone, was speaking with the same bold attitude as yesterday. A new discovery¡ªVictorique de Blois was not as scary over the phone.


    ¡°You had a fever yesterday, didn¡¯t you? If you¡¯re feeling a little better now, I need to know something.¡±


    ¡°You want me to explain the mystery to you?¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Kazuya nodded.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°No?! Why not?¡±


    ¡°I hate boredom, you see,¡± she said. ¡°So when I find chaos, I gather up the fragments and reconstruct them, and that way, for a brief moment, I am free from boredom. It¡¯s comforting to the soul. But only for a short while.¡±


    ¡°And¡­?¡±


    ¡°However, whether or not I will further verbalize what I have reconstructed for a helpless simpleton like you depends largely on my mood. What I¡¯m saying is, I¡¯m not in the mood for it right now. Bye.¡±


    ¡°No!¡±


    ¡°No?!¡± Victorique sounded shocked.


    After a brief back-and-forth, Victorique sighed in resignation. ¡°Fine,¡± she said, and reluctantly started explaining.

 Volume 3 - CH 6.3

    ¡°I was suffering from fever and dying of boredom,¡± Victorique said.


    ¡°I think you got it switched. Don¡¯t you mean you were dying from the fever?¡±


    ¡°Silence. So you see, I was reading a young priest¡¯s journal about an incident that took place in a medieval temple.¡±


    Kazuya frowned. He had no idea what she was talking about, but he was afraid that Victorique would get mad, so he kept quiet.


    ¡°A bishop from Saubreme was scheduled to arrive one night. Just as the villagers were thinking of showing their piety, two incidents occurred. One was the theft of silverware from a wealthy merchant¡¯s house. The other was the theft of a pig from a farmhouse on the outskirts of the village. The villagers were outraged and quickly captured those who they believed were responsible for each incident before the bishop arrived. The men accused of stealing the silverware were drifters. A poor farm boy was accused of stealing the pig. Each of them claimed they were innocent, but the angry villagers refused to listen. Now, just as they were about to be tried for their supposed crimes, the bishop arrived.¡±


    ¡°Okay¡­¡±


    ¡°The bishop learned about the incidents. He told the villagers to forgive them. He also muttered cryptic words to the priests: ¡®You are also forgiven.¡¯ The written account ends there. The monks who stole the silverware and the pig¡ª¡±


    ¡°Wait, the monks stole the silverware and the pig? Why?¡±


    ¡°Were you even listening?¡± Victorique hissed. ¡°I just told you.¡±


    ¡°But you didn¡¯t though.¡±


    ¡°Is that so? Then take a guess.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t!¡± Kazuya snapped.


    Victorique was silent for a moment, flabbergasted. Then, with a sigh, she said, ¡°The monks were the culprits. The villagers saw the incidents as two unrelated cases, found the likely culprits, and tried to forcefully bring them to justice. But think about it. Two incidents on the same night. In a village where such things rarely happen. Wouldn¡¯t it be safer to assume that the two incidents were caused by the same culprit with the same purpose? In other words, there were people who needed silverware and a pig that night. They were the culprits.¡±


    ¡°Why would they need silverware and a pig?¡±


    ¡°To serve the bishop, what else?¡±


    ¡°Oh!¡±


    ¡°Their temple was poor. But they didn¡¯t want the bishop to know that. Perhaps they feared that the temple itself would be closed. The monks could have begged the villagers and asked them to lend them silverware and give them meat. But they couldn¡¯t do that, and had to watch as innocent people were arrested for their crimes. The young monk who wrote the journal was not a part of it, though, and was absolutely clueless until the end. According to him, prayers filled the temple. He assumed it was because of the incidents. And there was also a horrible smell of raw blood. It should be obvious if you think about it for a bit. It was not the smell of sin. Someone was chopping a pig.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s forget about the dumb young monk. The bishop, who arrived late, immediately realized what was going on. He helped the arrested people and forgave the monks. The young monk didn¡¯t seem to see the connection, but when the bishop returned to the capital, he reviewed the temple¡¯s operating expenses. Do you get it now?¡±


    She was about to hang up the phone, when Kazuya said, ¡°Get what now?¡±


    A puzzled silence followed on the other end of the receiver.


    ¡°It¡¯s the same with this case,¡± Victorique continued with hesitation. ¡°Two different things were stolen, but the culprit and the purpose were the same. It was the temple that took the silverware and the pig. It was Jeantan who took the artifacts and the missing people. Your account of what happened contained the fragments of chaos that needed to be reconstructed. For example, the stolen goods brought from the colonies and the treasures of the Romanov dynasty.¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­?¡±


    ¡°Anastasia said that after the demonic ritual, a girl disappeared. She was auctioned. That same night, she came back cold, bandaged in a coffin. Anastasia thought that it was the same girl¡¯s dead body, but it wasn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°What was it?¡±


    ¡°Stolen goods brought in from the colonies. The kind of thing that collectors fight to get their hands on. It was probably a mummy from colonial Egypt.¡±


    Kazuya gasped.


    Anastasia¡¯s words came to his mind.


    ¡°Never came back until later that night¡­ in a coffin.¡±


    ¡°Her whole body was covered in bandages. I called her name, but she wouldn¡¯t answer.¡±


    ¡°I touched her, and she felt cold. She was already dead.¡±


    ¡°Ah, I get it. Anastasia mistook the mummy for the girl.¡±


    ¡°Yes, she did,¡± Victorique said. ¡°There were also treasures of the Romanov dynasty in that room, which were brought to Europe just before the Russian Revolution and supposedly disappeared.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Do you remember what Anastasia said about the two-headed eagle?¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡±


    ¡°The two-headed eagle is the emblem of the Romanov family.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I see¡­¡±


    ¡°The Romanov family¡¯s treasures were probably among the artifacts in the secret room. Do you understand, Kujou?¡±


    Kazuya nodded. ¡°Y-Yeah¡­¡±


    ¡°Do you understand, Kujou, the pathetic halfwit who doesn¡¯t understand anything unless I verbalize it for him?¡±


    ¡°Say that again, and I¡¯ll really¡ª¡±


    Before he could say any more, the door opened, and Inspector Blois entered.


    ¡°Later, Victorique,¡± Kazuya said. Before he could hang up the phone, he realized that Victorique already ended the call before him. He stared at the receiver for a moment, his face a mixture of emptiness and fury. ¡°Victorique, you little¡­¡± he mumbled with a sigh, then gently put down the phone.


    Superintendent-General Mr. Signore entered the room along with Inspector Blois.


    ¡°Grevil, the king is very pleased with your finding the Blue Rose,¡± Mr. Signore said. He shrugged, and his voice took on a bemused tone. ¡°But he says it¡¯s a bit ironic that Marquis de Blois¡¯ eldest son should find the Blue Rose for the king.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡±


    ¡°Yes. The king has not forgotten the incident with the alchemist Leviathan, who once tried to seize the kingdom, and the subsequent plotting of the Marquis during the Great War.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all in the past,¡± Inspector Blois said.


    Mr. Signoret smiled thinly in silent rebuttal. Then he shrugged again. ¡°Come to my office later. I¡¯m not there, but there¡¯s someone who wants to see you.¡± He looked at Kazuya. ¡°Oh, you come too, young man.¡± He then left in a hurry.


    Inspector Blois and Kazuya headed to Mr. Signore¡¯s reception office located on the fourth floor.


    Kazuya was calm, but Inspector Blois was coughing repeatedly. He tugged at his suit, fixed his hair, and then sighed. Kazuya glanced at him uncomfortably.


    They reached the fourth floor, and the elevator¡¯s steel cage rattled open. Inspector Blois stepped out quickly, but suddenly tripped over nothing. In his panic, he grabbed Kazuya¡¯s clothes, bringing him down with him, and the two of them tumbled down the hallway.


    ¡°Ouch!¡±


    ¡°S-Sorry¡­¡±


    Inspector Blois rushed to his feet and fixed his hair.


    What is wrong with him?


    Watching the inspector suspiciously, Kazuya followed behind.


    When he opened the door to the reception office, the sound of laughter rolled out. A blue-eyed, good-looking boy of about ten years was rolling with laughter. The person making him laugh was a lady standing across from him. Wearing an elegant brown dress with few ornaments, she appeared to be in her early twenties. Her straight brown hair didn¡¯t receive that much care, it seemed; it was dry and lacked the shine.


    ¡°Is it funny? Is it funny?¡±


    ¡°Wahahaha!¡±


    The boy laughed again. Kazuya glanced at the lady¡¯s face, and burst out laughing.


    The lady was squishing her face with her hands. Every time she moved her hands, her face would magically change, which was even funnier than the previous one. Kazuya couldn¡¯t help but laugh as he glanced at Inspector Blois.


    Huh?


    Inspector Blois had a deep frown on his face. He cast the lady a glance and sighed.


    The lady seemed to be the type to get carried away; when she saw that her clown act was well-received by Kazuya, she made even more ridiculous faces. But when she noticed Inspector Blois¡¯ displeasure, she pulled her hands away from her face.


    She was surprisingly quite pretty, possessing the beauty typical of the nobility. If she put more effort into buying dresses and fixing her hair than making funny faces, she¡¯d be captivating.


    Who¡¯s this lady? Kazuya wondered. I¡¯m pretty sure this is Mr. Signore¡¯s reception office, but the only people here are this weird lady and the boy.


    The blue-eyed boy wiped the tears in his eyes with the back of his hand. ¡°Sup!¡± he greeted.


    ¡°Huh?¡± Kazuya stared at the boy¡¯s face.


    Blue eyes and milky skin. He seemed quite the clever boy. He only reached Kazuya¡¯s chest in terms of height, so he was a little shorter than Victorique. Kazuya didn¡¯t think he knew a boy like him.


    ¡°You have the memory of a goldfish or something, you dumb Chinese?¡±


    Kazuya cocked his head. ¡°Oh!¡±


    ¡°Finally remembered, huh?¡±


    ¡°Luigi?!¡±


    It was Luigi, the street urchin with the sharp memory. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. ¡°I¡¯m going to school,¡± he said proudly. ¡°Mrs. Signore here does volunteer work. She¡¯s helping send smart kids to school. I¡¯m going to boarding school.¡±


    Luigi told him the name of a school by the sea. He kept proudly repeating that he was going to school.


    Kazuya rubbed Luigi¡¯s head, then turned to the lady¡ªMrs. Signore.


    Mrs. Signore took on a serious look and nodded. ¡°I heard about the incident from my husband last night,¡± she said. ¡°I told him that I would do what I could for those poor girls and then I would take care of this child who was instrumental in solving the case.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    Kazuya studied Mrs. Signore¡¯s face. She had that dignified demeanor befitting of the wife of the Superintendent-General, but for some reason, Kazuya thought that she looked like a precocious young girl trying her best to pretend to be an adult. Unable to contain himself, Kazuya chuckled.


    ¡°Huh? Why are you laughing?¡± She turned to the inspector. ¡°Tell me, Grevil!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Kazuya said. ¡°I just remembered the face you were making.¡±


    ¡°I-It¡¯s my special skill since I was young. Right, Grevil?¡±


    Kazuya¡¯s eyes darted between Mrs. Signore and Inspector Blois. The inspector was scowling at the floor.


    Mrs. Signore took out a handkerchief and wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes. ¡°It¡¯s been a long time, Grevil. I see you¡¯re still sporting the same weird hairdo.¡±


    ¡°Your face is much weirder, Jacqueline.¡±


    Kazuya stopped laughing. Jacqueline? He glanced at them both again.


    Jacqueline was the name that Inspector Blois had blurted out at the Charles de Gilet station yesterday. The inspector looked, as he recalled, a little agitated and sad at the same time, and when he realized that he had mistaken the lady for someone else, he was clearly dejected.


    ¡°Um, so your name is Jacqueline?¡± Kazuya asked.


    ¡°Yup. Why?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s your relationship with the inspector?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re childhood friends. He didn¡¯t always have this hairdo. He was fashionable and handsome, and every girl wanted him. And now he looks like this. What happened?¡±


    ¡°A lot,¡± Inspector Blois said curtly. ¡°A lot has happened.¡± His face turned grimmer.


    ¡°So right now¡­¡±


    ¡°My husband has been promoted to Superintendent-General, and as his wife, I do a lot of volunteer work, such as helping child victims of crimes. I was surprised to learn yesterday that Grevil was in Saubreme for work. Since when were you interested in police work? Doesn¡¯t really suit you, does it?¡±


    Inspector Blois was silent, then said in a low voice, ¡°Is that why you called us here? To give us an update on this boy?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I thought you might be a little worried. And I also wanted to see you, Grevil.¡±


    ¡°Well, if that¡¯s all¡­¡± Inspector Blois turned and headed for the door. Kazuya quickly went after him.


    Mrs. Signore and Luigi watched them go with smiles.


    ¡°Ah, yes! Grevil.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°I heard you played a huge part in this case. Congratulations. That¡¯s amazing. I was bragging about you to others, telling them we¡¯re childhood friends. So don¡¯t tell me we¡¯re not friends anymore. Although we¡¯ve grown apart since I got married.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    The inspector opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. Before he left, he peered back into the room and mumbled, ¡°It was nice seeing you, Jacqueline.¡±


    ¡°Same here. See you later.¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡±


    Inspector Blois closed the door.


    The inspector walked down the hallway with Kazuya by his side. He had a strange look on his face¡ªa mix of frustration and sadness, like a child who had his toy taken away from him.


    Kazuya studied his expression.


    The inspector ignored him for a while, until eventually he couldn¡¯t take it anymore.


    ¡°Stop staring at me with your dumb face!¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Eyes front and walk straight! Right. Left. Right. Left!¡±


    ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry¡­?¡±


    Kazuya wasn¡¯t sure why he was apologizing, but the inspector¡¯s menacing look gave him no choice but to quietly obey.

 Volume 4 - CH 1.1

    Prologue: The Illusion of the Black Tower


    A monochrome world, black and white as day and night.


    Atop a hill on the outskirts of the village, a black tower stood in the darkness of night, illuminated by the faint, pale light of the hazy moon.


    The black tower¡¯s pointed roof seemed to pierce the night sky. A huge round clock on the tower indicated the time with its two jet-black, sickle-shaped hands.


    There was not a soul around.


    It was a silent, ominous night.


    A black carriage came up the hill, disturbing the darkness. The horses neighed as thunder rumbled in the night sky.


    The carriage stopped, and a woman in black disembarked. She tried to say something, but the driver paid no attention and wheeled the carriage back down the hill.


    The woman stood alone, bewildered. After another thunderous roar, cold rain pelted down on her like arrows, and she took off.


    To the black tower.


    Two square windows, like eyes, gazed coldly at the woman. White flashes inside made it seem like a monster blinking.


    The woman let herself get sucked into the black tower.


    The interior was like a manufacturing plant straight out of a nightmare.


    A dark room cloaked in gray, it had the same round shape as the tower itself.


    It was hollow above, the ceiling shrouded in pitch-black darkness. Looking up was like staring into a bottomless abyss. It was hard to tell which way was up or down.


    Like a sword cutting through darkness, something was slowly moving from right to left. The air shook. A huge pendulum was swinging back and forth, whistling ominously.


    In the corner of the room, four huge mechanisms made odd grating noises. Gears turned endlessly.


    The woman in black slowly entered the room and looked around in horror.


    She removed her black veil, revealing a young face. She had hair and eyes of an indiscernible color. Underneath her thick cloak was a pure-white dress.


    She surveyed the room fearfully, frowned at the clock and pendulum. When she spotted the ebony table, she rushed toward it.


    The table was littered with books and laboratory equipment. Just as the woman picked them up and began searching for something, a puff of white smoke rose in the middle of the room.


    The woman failed to notice it. The smoke took on a human shape.


    When she finally turned around, she saw a monster standing there, wearing an eerie mask and a robe.


    The woman screamed. Her lips moved to form words.


    Forgive me, Master of the Black Clocktower!


    I desperately need your help.


    My father is sick and dying.


    The masked man stepped closer.


    The woman¡¯s frail figure trembled with fear.


    Slowly, the man raised one gloved hand, grabbed his mask, and spoke.


    O¡¯ fair maiden!


    Lay your eyes upon my curse.


    Behold the wretched face of an immortal man!


    The man¡¯s mask slowly peeled away and fell from his hands to the dark floor, swallowed by the shadow of the giant pendulum.


    The woman¡¯s beautiful face contorted in shock and horror.


    This is the truth of immortality!


    The woman¡¯s eyes widened. She brought her snow-white palm to her face and groaned. The man¡¯s hand moved to her throat. She started choking.


    The woman staggered and fell on the floor. Her bare shoulders quivered. The man stood there, shrouded by the shadow of the pendulum, looking down at her.


    The shadow shifted, and white light shone on the man.


    The woman cried out in horror.


    What horrible secret your mask hides!


    Chapter 1: Memoirs of an Alchemist


    In a dark room, villagers in their chairs watched with bated breath at the black-and-white images projected on the screen.


    The monster in the black tower was about to take off its mask and reveal its terrifying face.


    The music swelled.


    People had gathered today in the village¡¯s small movie theater¡ªa small abandoned theater that the young villagers renovated¡ªto watch a horror movie titled ¡®The Illusion of the Black Tower¡¯. Among the villagers dressed in their cotton outfits was a girl in stylish clothing and her companion, an oriental boy. They were students of St. Marguerite Academy, a school for children of aristocrats located on the outskirts of the village.


    The girl, slender with short blond hair, had been glued to the screen for some time. The boy, on the other hand, had been sitting with his back straight like a warrior for nearly an hour, his eyes tightly closed¡­ sleeping quietly.


    When the woman¡¯s words appeared on the screen, the villagers stirred.


    ¡°What horrible secret your mask hides!¡±


    The blonde girl¡ªAvril Bradley¡ªswallowed.


    With a loud sound effect, the monster¡¯s face finally appeared on the screen.


    Avril screamed and threw the brown box she was holding. Chocolate chip cookies flew toward the ceiling. Avril strangled the sleeping Kazuya.


    ¡°A skeletooooon!!!¡±


    Kazuya jumped awake. The people behind yelled at them to sit down. Some commented about the falling cookies. Kazuya bowed deeply, apologized, picked up the cookies, and sat back down again. He glanced at Avril.


    She was staring at the screen with her mouth open and eyes twinkling. Kazuya stared at her childish face for a while, then smiled, fixed his posture, and softly closed his eyes.


    The year was 1924.


    The Kingdom of Sauville, a small nation in Europe.


    Lush green mountains, lakes, and vast forests marked its border with Switzerland. An endless expanse of vineyards sprawled on its border with France. A beautiful summer resort facing the Mediterranean Sea separated it from Italy. Surrounded by powers, this small kingdom survived the last Great War and was called the little giant of Western Europe because of its long and grand history, power, and its influence on the great nations.


    If the Gulf of Lyon was the grand entrance to the kingdom, the Alps were the secret attic hidden in the deepest part of the country. At the foot of the mountains lay a small village, a beautiful and peaceful place known for its wine and fruits. On the outskirts of the village was a mysterious school that had stood since the Middle Ages.


    St. Marguerite Academy.


    Known as the educational institution for the children of aristocracy, it held many a mysteries. Some believed that secrets of the small, mysterious, and powerful kingdom were hidden in this school. After the end of the war, the secretive academy began accepting gifted students from allied countries as international students.


    Kazuya Kujou was an international student from one of these allied countries, an island nation in the Orient. He had been selected for his excellent grades and good conduct. Excited about his new life, he crossed the sea to this kingdom, leaving his family and some part of him behind.


    Kazuya¡¯s life as an exchange student was filled with the prejudices of the nobility, the peculiar horror stories that pervaded the academy, language and cultural barriers, his meeting with a strange and beautiful girl, Victorique de Blois, and their adventures together.

 Volume 4 - CH 1.2

    ¡°That was a loud scream,¡± Avril said gleefully as she opened the theater¡¯s swinging door. ¡°You¡¯re such a scaredy-cat, Kujou.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t scream because of the skeleton,¡± Kazuya denied.


    ¡°Of course you didn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m telling the truth. I was asleep the whole time.¡±


    ¡°Or you were so scared that you couldn¡¯t keep your eyes open. I know you. Besides, if you were asleep, you couldn¡¯t have screamed at that moment, could you?¡±


    ¡°Well, you were choking me.¡±


    ¡°Kujou.¡± Avril turned around with a serious face.


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°No excuses,¡± she said.


    ¡°What?!¡±


    ¡°Even if you¡¯re a scaredy, pathetic wimp who fails at exams, I will still be your friend.¡±


    Kazuya gave up trying to say anything.


    Sure, I¡¯m a little pathetic at times, but I¡¯m definitely not a scaredy-cat, and I get the highest scores in class.


    Paying no attention to Kazuya¡¯s brooding, Avril walked out of the movie theater with a spring in her steps.


    The busy street was bathed in the light of the early-summer sun. A passing shower had drenched the street, but the skies had cleared up now, and the wooden signboards and the trees lining the street sparkled from the droplets. Triangular roofs, the bright green vines hanging from the windows, and the blooming geranium flowers were dazzling under the sun.


    It was a Sunday afternoon.


    The two-month-long summer break was just a few days away. With exams over, the days seemed to pass by slowly. Kazuya and Avril were hanging out in the village, not in their uniforms, but casual attire.


    Kazuya was wearing a cotton shirt and a leather vest, while Avril had a simple white muslin blouse and a pretty polka-dotted, flared skirt. She walked energetically, swinging her arms around.


    ¡°Hmm?¡± Avril suddenly stopped in her tracks, looking thoughtful.


    Kazuya stopped as well. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just, I think I¡¯ve heard that story somewhere before. A masked monster lurking in a black tower, and a woman dying inside.¡±


    Kazuya just nodded, seemingly uninterested. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if you did. You read every horror story there is.¡±


    ¡°I suppose.¡± Avril mulled it over for a bit, then resumed walking. ¡°Hold on a second.¡± She stopped in front of the post office and went inside.


    Kazuya waited patiently for her.


    Two tall men came strolling in his direction. One of them had flaming red hair peeking from under his hat, while the other was an oriental man, like Kazuya, with handsome features and a cold look in his eyes.


    Girls walking past them looked back at the unfamiliar men, wondering who they were. Noticing their gaze, the men stopped and winked at the girls, who walked away, blushing.


    Kazuya watched the men go.


    ¡°I¡¯m back!¡± Avril popped out of the post office, holding a parcel. ¡°I did some mail order shopping. You can send money to some of the bigger stores in Saubreme, and they will deliver the goods you want by mail.¡±


    ¡°Really? I didn¡¯t know that.¡± Kazuya was impressed.


    As they started walking again, Avril said, ¡°I swear I¡¯ve heard of it before.¡±


    ¡°Heard what? Oh, you mean the movie¡¯s plot.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m serious.¡±


    Avril was unusually quiet as they ambled along the road back to the academy.


    Houses became fewer now, replaced by sprawling vineyards on both sides. Grape vines glittered under the summer sun. A wagon slowly rolled past.


    The main gate of the school came into sight. When they reached the iron fence, worked in gold and intricate scroll-leaf design, Avril suddenly exclaimed, ¡°Ah!¡±


    ¡°Wh-What is it?¡±


    ¡°I remember now! Over here, Kujou!¡±


    Avril grabbed Kazuya¡¯s hand and pulled him away, through the main gate and into the school grounds.


    The campus, modeled after a French-style garden, was more crowded than usual on weekends. Summer vacation was just around the corner, and students were lounging on the benches, gazebos, and the lawn, or laughing as they strolled along the pathwalks. The crystal fountain, wet from the shower earlier, glistened.


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Kazuya asked as they ran across the gardens.


    ¡°The black tower from the story! I remember where I heard it from!¡±


    Avril stopped. Her blue eyes twinkled like she was really enjoying herself.


    Kazuya hesitated for a moment before asking, ¡°Heard where?¡±


    ¡°Here!¡± Avril exclaimed. ¡°Right here at St. Marguerite Academy. I knew I¡¯d seen that clock tower design somewhere. Look. There it is!¡± She pointed to the sky.


    Kazuya followed her finger and saw a large, old clock tower looming up ahead.


    The tower was dark gray, its roof of a pointy, complex shape. Far above, a huge round clock with jet-black hands showed the time.


    Kazuya studied the pointed roof. It looked very similar to the black tower in the horror movie. It was too much of a coincidence.


    Kazuya and Avril exchanged glances.


    ¡°What does this mean?¡± Kazuya wondered. ¡°Why does our school have the same tower as the one in the movie?¡±


    ¡°Who knows? Maybe it¡¯s some kind of a curse.¡±


    ¡°A curse? Why do you always have to link everything to the occult? Hey, wait. Where are you going?¡±


    Avril approached the clock tower, and Kazuya quickly followed after. Avril slipped through the eerie, dead breech branches that surrounded the tower and stood in front of the door.


    Kazuya stopped. A wind blew, sending the dead branches scraping against the stone walls like a sinister whisper. The old, rotting wooden door was covered in layers of cobwebs. He looked up and saw two small windows staring down at them like the eyes of a monster.


    ¡°Avril¡­?¡±


    Avril pulled on the doorknob, but it was locked. Her shoulders slumped in disappointment.


    ¡°Looks like we can¡¯t get in,¡± Kazuya said, relieved.


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡±


    ¡°Well, I have to go to the library, so¡­¡±


    As soon as she heard the word ¡®library,¡¯ Avril abruptly raised her head and grabbed Kazuya¡¯s hand. ¡°Wait, don¡¯t go. A-All you have to do is this!¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°U-Uh¡­ this!¡±


    Avril swung her long and slender leg. Her polka-dot flared skirt billowed, and her silky-smooth leg went up in the air for a moment.


    She then kicked the door. It fell silent, as though stunned, then slowly creaked open.


    Avril frowned in pain and hopped around, moaning. She then forced on a smile. ¡°It¡¯s open!¡±


    ¡°More like broken!¡±


    ¡°S-Same thing. Let¡¯s go check it out!¡±


    Avril pulled on Kazuya¡¯s arm. Despite his protests, Kazuya stepped inside the clock tower.


    The inside was darkly-lit and wrapped in dreary silence.


    There was a long corridor, followed by a long, narrow staircase. Dust rose as they walked.


    Coughing profusely, Avril grabbed Kazuya¡¯s arm. ¡°Weird. I¡¯m getting dizzy.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, me too.¡±


    As they wandered the tower, Kazuya also began to feel a strange discomfort, as though someone was shaking his head.


    Avril climbed up the stairs first. A few steps and she tripped and fell on top of Kazuya, screaming, sending them both rolling down the stairs. Coughing, they rose back to their feet.


    ¡°Let¡¯s head back,¡± Kazuya said. ¡°I gotta go to the library.¡±


    ¡°No!¡±


    ¡°¡­Why not?¡±


    Avril turned around. ¡°Uhm¡­ I think the room in the last scene of that movie is in this tower.¡±


    Kazuya slept through most of the movie, but he remembered the scene she was referring to when he opened his eyes after being strangled by Avril. An eerie room with huge clockworks and a metal pendulum that made a grating noise. It was the room that the masked monster lurking in the Black Tower used as a laboratory for his bizarre experiments.


    ¡°I doubt it,¡± Kazuya said.


    Ignoring him, Avril proceeded onward. Both of them were pressing their forefingers to their temples. Their heads hurt for some reason.


    Avril eventually found a door. Not paying heed to Kazuya¡¯s protests, she kicked the door open.


    She hopped around in pain. ¡°There it is!¡± Her face lit up.


    Kazuya peered into the room too.


    It was an eerie gray room, similar to the one in the horror movie The Illusion of the Black Tower, slowly shifting as if it were some creature forgotten in time.


    A dim, vast space.


    It was hollow all the way above to the dark, high ceiling. The pendulum of the giant clock swung idly from side to side, cutting through the dusty air.


    Four huge clockworks whirred, intertwining with the cogs. They made low, bizarre sounds. It was as if they had entered a hellish manufacturing plant. It was both suffocating and horrifying.


    Kazuya clenched his fists. Once he had calmed down a little, he surveyed the room.


    There was a large ebony table where a variety of laboratory equipment of different sizes lay scattered, like someone had just been here moments ago, except they were all covered in dust and wrapped in the same gray hue that enveloped the entire room.


    Kazuya studied one wall. Only a large stained glass window, depicting a flower garden¡ªone red flower blooming amid purple and yellow ones¡ªgave off vivid colors in the otherwise gray workshop.


    A dark and sinister room of pendulum and clockworks.


    Kazuya swallowed and looked around.


    The room was eerily similar to the movie they had just seen.


    What does this mean, he wondered. He looked to his side.


    Avril was deep in thought. ¡°Maybe¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­Maybe what?¡±


    ¡°I told you the film¡¯s story sounded familiar, right? I remember now. It¡¯s very similar to one of the stories about this school.¡±

 Volume 4 - CH 1.3

    ¡°What kind of story?¡±


    ¡°First of all, this is a historical fact. Around twenty or thirty years ago, there was a very famous magician, or alchemist, or whatever you want to call him, in Sauville. He wore a mask, a robe, and thick gloves. The queen took a great liking to him, to the point that he eventually became involved in politics.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± Kazuya nodded with great interest.


    Avril¡¯s face lit up. ¡°The alchemist built a workshop in the academy¡¯s clock tower, holed himself up there, and continued using his terrifying power. Soon, no one could oppose him, but he also gained a lot of political enemies.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know that. So this used to be his workshop?¡±


    ¡°Probably. And this is where the story begins. One day, the king, fearing the alchemist¡¯s power, dispatched the Royal Knights to this academy to assassinate him. But despite being riddled with poisoned arrows, the alchemist just wouldn¡¯t die. And then he disappeared. The knights searched frantically, but they couldn¡¯t find him. Rumors said that he was immortal. That¡¯s why he hid his never-aging body behind a mask and robe.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­¡±


    ¡°Ever since then, it¡¯s said that a monster lurks in the clock tower, prowling¡­ Kyaaaaah!¡±


    ¡°Can you please keep it down?¡± Kazuya said with a straight face. ¡°Anyway, I think the explanation is simple.¡±


    Avril pouted. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°If it¡¯s based on a true story, it would explain why this clock tower looks so much like the one in the movie.¡±


    ¡°Wha¡ª¡±


    ¡°To summarize, there used to be a weirdo living in this clock tower, giving birth to the story that a monster lurks inside. The movie was made by someone who knew the story. That¡¯s why the design of the building, the workshop, and the story are very similar. Now, let¡¯s get out of here.¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Avril scowled. ¡°That¡¯s just boring.¡±


    ¡°Yes, the truth is often boring.¡±


    ¡°Tsk. You¡¯re such a jerk.¡±


    ¡°What? Wh-Why?¡±


    ¡°¡­You just are!¡± Avril looked away.


    ¡°Okay. Anyway, I gotta go to the library, so¡­¡± Sighing, Kazuya was about to leave the workshop when he heard a strange noise behind him and turned around.


    Avril was opening the package she got from the post office¡ªa mail order from a store in Saubreme¡ªright here and now.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I thought I¡¯d ask about the monster in this tower.¡±


    ¡°Ask who?¡±


    ¡°This thing right here!¡± With a smug look, Avril showed Kazuya what was in the package.


    It was a square wooden board with the letters of the alphabet marked on its surface. It came with a heart-shaped black stone.


    Kazuya studied it for a while. ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s called a Ouija board. It¡¯s used with a planchette. Wanna try it?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s a planchette?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a tool to talk to spirits. You place the stone here and touch it with your index finger. Then you ask a question.¡±


    ¡°What? That sounds dumb. I¡¯m leaving.¡±


    ¡°Wait.¡± Avril quickly stopped him. ¡°Please stay for a bit. At least two people are required for this.¡±


    ¡°I really gotta go, though.¡± Kazuya hesitated for a moment, before giving up and sitting down next to Avril. He did as she said, placing his index finger on the stone.


    Avril stroked her chest in relief, then closed her eyes. ¡°O¡¯ spirit, if you¡¯re here, I have a question,¡± she muttered.


    Kazuya snickered, and Avril pinched his cheek.


    ¡°O¡¯ spirit, did an alchemist live here?¡± Avril opened her eyes.


    The black stone moved slowly, to the letters O, U, and I¡ªmeaning yes.


    Kazuya frowned. ¡°Pfft. You¡¯re moving it yourself.¡±


    ¡°Quiet!¡±


    ¡°¡­Sorry.¡±


    Avril closed her eyes again. ¡°O¡¯ spirit, is the alchemist here right now?¡±


    ¡°Of course not. Let¡¯s just go already. I gotta go to the library.¡±


    ¡°Shh!¡±


    ¡°Sorry¡­ Man, there¡¯s you, Victorique, and Ms. Cecile. I¡¯ve done nothing but apologize to women. I think I¡¯ve said a lifetime¡¯s worth of apology since coming to Sauville. That¡¯s it. I will never again apologize for the rest of my life.¡±


    ¡°I said be quiet.¡±


    ¡°Sorry¡­¡± Kazuya looked at the Ouija board.


    Avril¡¯s fingers were shaking. Surprised, he glanced at her face. She was looking pale, and there were beads of sweat on her forehead.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Kazuya asked.


    ¡°Kujou¡­ It¡¯s not me that¡¯s moving the stone¡­¡± Avril slowly pulled her hand away.


    The stone was at the letter U now. Confused, Kazuya removed his finger too. Then the stone moved, despite no one touching it, and abruptly stopped at the letter I.


    ¡°OUI. That¡¯s a yes. The alchemist¡¯s soul is still in this tower.¡± When Avril realized that they had both removed their fingers, she let out a yelp. ¡°Oh, no! The manual says we can¡¯t stop halfway, or something evil will show up. What do we do?!¡±


    The Ouija board slid across the floor, as if someone was dragging it. It moved about two meters, before slowly coming to a stop.


    They looked at each other. There was a faint noise from somewhere. The floor creaked as though someone invisible was passing right in front of them.


    The door opened silently. Avril shrieked and clung to Kazuya.


    A set of footsteps faded, and another set was coming closer. Soft, surreptitious footsteps, climbing up the stairs, in front of the workshop, and then stepped through the open door.


    Avril screamed again.


    The person who entered shrieked in response and jumped.


    It was a petite woman wearing a simple beige dress. She had shoulder-length, fluffy brown hair and large round glasses. She jumped, quite literally, then removed her glasses, and put them back on again.


    Her big, droopy brown eyes widened. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s just you two.¡±


    It was Ms. Cecile.


    Kazuya and Avril relaxed. They stared at the teacher for a while with their mouths hanging open.


    Ms. Cecile looked unusually stern. ¡°What on earth are you two doing here? This place is off-limits to students. I saw signs of someone kicking down the door, so I came in. Now, tell me the truth. Which one of you did it? Kujou? Or Avril?¡±


    Avril awkwardly cast her eyes down, and Kazuya shifted uncomfortably.


    ¡°Whoever did it is grounded for a month,¡± Ms. Cecile said with amusement.


    Avril looked dejected, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. When Kazuya noticed her expression, he thought about his options.


    ¡°Close your eyes,¡± Ms. Cecile said, and they did as told. ¡°Raise your hand if you did it.¡±


    Neither of them moved. After a while, Kazuya raised his hand reluctantly, a glum look on his face, but with back straight regardless.


    Avril also raised her hand, slowly, not to admit that she did it, but to point at Kazuya, putting the blame on him.


    Ms. Cecile chuckled. ¡°You can put your hands back down and open your eyes. Avril, next time make sure you open the door with your hands, not your feet. And Kujou¡­¡± She shooed them out. ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­ I think you have trouble with women. I¡¯m getting a little worried.¡±


    As soon as they stepped outside, Kazuya and Avril breathed sighs of relief. The dizziness they felt while inside also vanished. They took several deep breaths.


    ¡°Don¡¯t ever come near this place again. Do you understand?¡± Ms. Cecile warned. ¡°Just because there¡¯s only three days left until summer break doesn¡¯t mean you can just let loose. I will change the lock by the end of the day. Anyway, stay away from the tower. Got it?¡± she repeated. She looked more serious than usual.


    ¡°Why?¡± Kazuya asked.


    Ms. Cecile just shook her head over and over. ¡°You just can¡¯t come here. Ever.¡±


    The sky around the tower was dark and cloudy, as though a thick gray sheet had been plastered above it. Insects chirped in the garden.


    Ms. Cecile hastened away, leaving Kazuya and Avril in the corner of a verdant green lawn a short distance away from the tower.


    ¡°Did you sense something off with her?¡± Avril said, looking thoughtful. ¡°Maybe there¡¯s something about the clock tower. What do you think, Kujou?¡±


    There was no reply. She looked around and spotted Kazuya already far in the distance.


    She scowled. ¡°Argh, I let him get away! I thought for sure I could stop him from going to the library today.¡± She let out a sigh and started walking.


    The wind blew. A drop of water fell from a leaf onto Avril¡¯s nape, trickling down her neck.


    ¡°Darn it,¡± she mumbled. ¡°This was supposed to be a date. I mean, I invited him to the movies, so it could only mean a date. I was so looking forward to it, got dressed in my cutest outfit, but he was sleeping soundly next to me!¡± She scowled. ¡°I know you¡¯ve never failed any exams.¡±


    She heaved a deep sigh and looked up. Small white birds streaked across the clear, blue sky. The fountain, the flowers in the flower beds, and everything else was glistening.


    Avril sat down on a bench along the path and massaged her feet. ¡°Kujou, you jerk!¡± she huffed.


    A strong gust tousled Avril¡¯s hair. She closed her eyes, then slowly opened it. There was confusion and fear in them.


    She looked back at the clock tower. Two small square windows, like the eyes of some monster, were looking at her. She sensed a gaze, as if someone was watching her. She studied the tower once more with a frown.


    ¡°Oh, right. We stopped halfway with the Ouija board. If I recall correctly, the manual said that if we did that, an evil spirit would haunt you.¡± Her blue eyes widened. ¡°That won¡¯t happen, right?¡±


    The wind blew.


    Shadows fell on the gray clock tower, painting it even darker, and blacker.

 Volume 4 - CH 1.4

    Meanwhile¡­


    St. Marguerite¡¯s Grand Library.


    The tall tower hidden behind the academy¡¯s vast campus stood in silence, as it had for the past three hundred years.


    Despite being one of Europe¡¯s most prestigious halls of knowledge, not many knew of its existence because of the academy¡¯s secretive nature. The stone tower, faded from exposure to the elements, had a small leather door, but not a lot of people used it.


    Inside, the ceiling was staggeringly high, hollow all the way up, with gigantic bookcases on every wall. Tens of thousands of thick, leather-bound books filled the shelves. Intellect and silence¡ªthat was all there was in this place.


    A maze of narrow wooden stairs led all the way to the beautiful ceiling covered with solemn religious paintings.


    Something long and golden, like the tail of some strange creature, was hanging down, swaying occasionally then stopping, as though to lure those underneath it.


    There were all sorts of stories about this library. It was said that the building was built in the early 17th century by the then King of Sauville, a henpecked husband, and that at the top of the maze of stairs, so complex that no one could make it to the top, was a small, luxurious bedroom that he had built for his lover. According to some, a small golden fairy lived at the topmost floor.


    The owner of the golden tail, the origin of the fairy rumor, showed no interest in the pre-summer vacation fever of the world outside. Neither the blinding summer sun nor the passing shower surprised her. And just as always, today she was engrossed in reading in the library¡¯s secret conservatory.


    Between the garden, with its dense tropical foliage and garish red flowers, and the staircase landing, was a small, beautiful girl, lying on the floor.


    Victorique de Blois.


    Born to Marquis de Blois, a powerful nobleman in the Kingdom of Sauville, and Cordelia, a dancer of mysterious lineage, she was confined in the academy for reasons unknown. She was looking extravagant again today, wearing a pink ruffled dress with a floral design, and dainty laced shoes. She was smoking a pipe idly.


    She had surprisingly handsome features, and at first glance, she looked more like a porcelain doll that had been painstakingly crafted by an artisan. She had a small nose and glossy, cherry lips. Her cheeks were the color of roses. But her pale emerald-green eyes gave her a peculiar, ruthless aura that was neither adult nor childlike.


    Her long golden hair that reached her feet hung over the railing, swaying like the tail of some strange creature.


    In her small hand was a ceramic pipe that she would occasionally bring to her mouth to puff on. A white wisp of smoke rose from the pipe up to the skylight.


    Thick books lay open around her¡ªesoteric academic books, books on sorcery, dictionaries, all of which seemed to take a long time to read. Victorique was reading them all at the same time. She turned the pages, ran her eyes over them, and then turned them again.


    She was absorbed in her reading for a while, until eventually she raised her head and groaned.


    ¡°I¡¯m bored¡­¡±


    She flailed her legs like a child throwing a tantrum, sending books flying all over the place.


    Victorique placed her pipe on the shoe-shaped pipe stand and lay down. Curling up into a little ball of frills, she began rolling from side to side, pushing the books even farther away.


    ¡°I¡¯m so bored! What do I do? I¡¯m going to die! Once the boredom rises to my throat, I will choke to death. It¡¯s medically possible. Ah¡­¡±


    She rolled from right, left, forward, and backward across the floor for a while. Suddenly, she bolted up. She stretched her small hand over the railing and stared blankly far below, at the entrance to the library.


    There were no signs of life except for Victorique in this vast hall of knowledge. Normally, the leather swinging doors would flung open right about now, and an odd oriental boy would be running up the stairs screaming, ¡°Victorique!¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s late today,¡± Victorique murmured.


    Sighing, she leaned against the railing for a while. Her golden hair hung down, swaying from side to side.


    ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll just jump off. I¡¯ll die, of course, but for a brief moment, it¡¯ll feel exhilarating. Ow!¡±


    Victorique let go of the handrail and held the back of her head with both hands. Tears slowly formed in her quiet, emerald eyes.


    ¡°Th-That hurt¡­¡±


    She turned around slowly. A book was on the floor. The vibrations from her flailing had caused a book to fall from a nearby shelf, and it struck her head. It had a golden-colored cover and was oddly ostentatious. After glaring at it for a while, she moved closer, warily. Like some wild animal prowling around a trap, she leaned forward, sniffed, and backed away. She repeated this a few times.


    After about ten minutes, Victorique finally let her guard down. She picked up the book, placed it on her lap, then slowly opened it.


    Pop!


    The moment she opened the large book, a strange sight appeared before her.


    Four huge clockworks.


    An equally huge pendulum.


    A large man wearing a robe and a mask, and a boy lying beside him.


    The boy¡¯s stomach was ripped open, golden drops of water trickling out, as if a golden flower had bloomed fully from within him.


    Somehow Victorique could sense that the man was laughing behind his mask. He was feeling triumphant.


    But in his heart was anger and sorrow that he had held for years.


    Slowly the man turned around and saw a huge girl wrapped in ruffles looking down at his miniature garden of a world. Staring into the girl¡¯s huge, green eyes, he pointed to the ground, trying to say something.


    Victorique snapped back to her senses. She stared at the book on her lap. It was large, with three-dimensional images of a pendulum, clockworks, a masked man, and a boy sprawled on the ground¡ªa so-called pop-book that were often created for children. This was, however, no child¡¯s plaything, but a storybook so elaborate that, for a moment, it seemed as if the scene itself was real.


    Victorique looked at where the masked man was pointing. On the page was a passage handwritten in French. It looked like it was written by a child.


    Victorique frowned. ¡°What is this?¡± She moved her face closer.


    To whom have acquired this book.


    Written by Leviathan, 1899.


    Victorique¡¯s brows furrowed. She stared at the masked man. ¡°Leviathan?¡± The weird alchemist who supposedly lived here in the academy¡­? So is this your memoir?¡± She snorted. ¡°Do you really think I¡¯m going to read this? I¡¯m afraid not.¡±


    Victorique closed the book and returned it to its place. She sat still for a while, smoking on her pipe.


    ¡°Aaaaaah! I¡¯m so bored!¡±


    She curled up into a ball, rolled around, and sprang back up. Frowning, she grabbed the golden book and spread it open on her lap.


    ¡°Fine. I hate this, but I¡¯ll try reading it. Between reading and dying of boredom, the former is the obvious choice.¡±


    After practically insulting the author, she buried her face into the book and started reading.


    ¡°Hmm. So it is a memoir. Must¡¯ve had a lot of time on his hands to create something this elaborate.¡±


    I, Leviathan, am an alchemist.


    With my occultic powers, I have succeeded in creating something out of nothing.


    You, who have acquired this book in the future, must be surprised.


    My power will keep me alive forever, and I will punish those who try to expose my secret.


    Are you flummoxed?


    Victorique frowned. ¡°What an oddball. I can¡¯t stand this guy.¡±


    She sighed, but before she could close the book, the next words caught her attention.


    You, from the future.


    Are you a man?


    A woman?


    An adult?


    A child?


    It does not matter.


    For my mystery will never be solved. Are you infuriated?


    Victorique¡¯s brow knitted. She was angry. Her golden hair swelled and her rosy cheeks turned red with rage.


    ¡°P-Preposterous! There is no mystery I can¡¯t solve. What an insolent wretch!¡±


    She flipped to the next page, but the entry was marked by a different date and looked more scrawled than written.


    You, from the future.


    I am a fool.


    Speak for me and reveal my inane secret!


    ¡°What is this man talking about? First he says no one can solve his mystery, and now he asks me to reveal it. What a confusing fellow.¡± Victorique closed the book. ¡°I¡¯ve had enough of this.¡±


    She tossed the book down on the floor. She then reached into the candy jar that was once a turban, peeled off the wrapper of a macaroon and chewed it happily, wearing a thoughtful look.


    Munch, munch¡­


    After finishing the macaroon, she took another one.


    Munch, munch¡­


    Her gaze was fixed on one thing¡ªthe book she threw on the floor.


    The wind coming in from the skylight rustled the macaroon wrappers scattered on the floor. Victorique curled up again, rolling from side to side, thinking, and eventually rose with a sigh.


    ¡°I can¡¯t beat boredom,¡± she mumbled. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be my greatest foe otherwise.¡± She picked up the golden book again.


    Each page featured a different scene. Glittering palace halls, a young queen with a shiny crown, people gathered in a solemn courtroom, a young man with long blonde hair, kneeling. Victorique became more and more engrossed in her reading that she had forgotten to put her pipe in her mouth.


    After a while, a familiar sound came from the hall far below. The door slammed open, followed by the sound of footsteps running in.


    ¡°Victorique!¡± called a familiar voice.


    Victorique twitched. But she didn¡¯t respond, and instead continued reading.


    Far down below, a small boy appeared. His footsteps echoed as he ran up the stairs, panting along the way.


    ¡°The scoundrel¡¯s finally here,¡± Victorique muttered without lifting her head.


    Smoking her pipe, Victorique kept on reading. The rhythmical footsteps of the boy, Kazuya Kujou, reverberated in the quiet garden.


    But the stairs were long.


    It would take a few more minutes before he would appear.

 Volume 4 - CH 1.5

    ¡°Victorique!¡±


    It was about ten minutes later when a breathless Kazuya arrived at the conservatory, panting, partly due to the heat. Wiping off his sweat, he sat down next to Victorique in a familiar manner.


    ¡°Are¡­ you bored?¡± he asked, gasping for air.


    Victorique lifted her head up wearily. Kazuya gave a jerk.


    A tiny face framed by bright golden hair. Green eyes holding a mysterious sparkle that he had never seen before.


    Victorique was silent for a while. Kazuya waited with bated breath.


    ¡°Not really,¡± she said finally.


    Kazuya sighed.


    ¡°Why do you ask?¡± Victorique said, smoking her pipe idly.


    ¡°Nothing. I learned something interesting, and I thought you¡¯d be happy to hear it. You know, if you¡¯re bored.¡±


    ¡°That so,¡± she said curtly.


    Kazuya felt a little discouraged, but quickly lifted his spirits back up. ¡°I¡¯m gonna tell you anyway. I don¡¯t know if you¡¯re aware, but there used to be a mysterious alchemist in this academy.¡±


    ¡°A bizarre coincidence,¡± Victorique replied.


    ¡°Hmm? Coincidence?¡±


    ¡°I have actually just accepted the alchemist¡¯s challenge.¡±


    ¡°You what?!¡±


    A breeze blew through the skylight, stirring the flowers and leaves in the garden. It was hot outside in the summer sun, but here it was pleasantly cool, as though completely unaffected by the heat from the world outside.


    Victorique, smoking her pipe languidly, was reading a book spread open on her lap.


    Kazuya waited quietly for a while, but when he realized that Victorique had no intention of answering his question, he asked, ¡°What do you mean by a challenge?¡±


    Victorique ignored him. The wisp of smoke rising from the pipe quivered each time she shifted. While waiting, Kazuya took some of her macaroons and tossed them into his mouth, and organized the books scattered all over the floor.


    ¡°Kujou, did someone invite you to the movies?¡±


    ¡°Yup! Wait, how¡¯d you know?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a movie ticket stub peeking out of your pocket,¡± Victorique said in an impassive tone. ¡°I can see the title a bit, and it doesn¡¯t seem to be your cup of tea. I could therefore surmise that someone invited you.¡±


    ¡°Wow¡­ You hit the nail on the head. There¡¯s a new movie theater in the village, so we went there. And it turned out that the movie was based on the story of a mysterious alchemist who lived in this academy.¡±


    ¡°Ahuh¡­¡±


    Victorique immediately lost interest in the topic and continued reading. Kazuya was doing his usual tidying, picking up the macaroon wrappers and putting all the scattered books in one place, while talking about the movie theater and what he had seen in the village. Victorique was puffing on her pipe without uttering a single reply, but after a while, she suddenly raised her head.


    ¡°Do you know what a Meissen porcelain is?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I do,¡± Kazuya replied, baffled. ¡°It¡¯s German tableware, right? It¡¯s white and smooth and pretty. Why the sudden question?¡±


    ¡°I thought I¡¯d tell you about alchemy.¡±


    ¡°Will it take long?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± Victorique nodded. ¡°Very long. As long as a never-ending dream. Long as the life of a dragon. Come here and listen.¡±


    Kazuya made a sour face, but reluctantly sat back down beside her.


    ¡°Kujou,¡± Victorique said, a cold expression on her face, ¡°I don¡¯t know how much you know about alchemy, but I would guess that you are mostly ignorant.¡±


    ¡°Yup, I know nothing about it. Sue me.¡±


    ¡°Allow me to explain, then. Alchemists are people who study the art of rewriting information in matter and transforming it into another substance. The techniques vary, but historically, there are three main things that people have sought from them. These are gold, immortality, and homunculi. These were believed to be created with the help of a special substance known as the Philosopher¡¯s Stone, so powerful alchemists were thought to possess one. According to one theory, the stone had a rich red color like pomegranate. Kujou, if you fall asleep, we¡¯re done.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sleeping! I just closed my eyes.¡±


    Victorique snorted. ¡°Alchemy is generally misunderstood as a demonic field that has been passed down from ancient times, but its history is actually brief, surprisingly enough. And I mean really brief. Did you know that?¡±


    ¡°Nope, not at all.¡±


    ¡°Now a young man makes his entrance. Germany, the beginning of the 17th century. His name was Johannes V. Andreae, the son of a pastor, and a blockhead. He wandered about during the day and attended religious circles at night. It was in that circle that Johannes met a young, unusual man who called himself Christoph. He was an enigmatic, unemployed dimwit who knew nine languages, including ancient Hebrew, and knew all sorts of useless trivia.¡±


    ¡°Speaking of useless trivia, I¡¯m pretty sure you know just as much, if not more. Ow! Why¡¯d you kick me?!¡±


    ¡°Anyway, the two idiots hit it off, which ultimately led to the advent of the long alchemy boom. They holed themselves up in their room and crafted a grand imaginary tale about a fictional character, despite their parents and brothers telling them to get a job or find a wife. In other words, they had a peculiar way of passing time. The hero of their story was Christian Rosenkreutz, a diabolical man born in the 14th century. The two idiots gave the fictional man various abilities and made him the leader of a group of alchemists called the Order of the Rose Cross. They came up with the Order¡¯s enigmatic pavilion, their strict code, and their history, which they compiled into a book of fantasy literature titled The Chymical Wedding of Christian Rosenkreutz. Not content with that, they wrote two more books, the Fama and Confessio. In short, they had a lot of free time on their hands. But the three books they wrote in just a few years became bestsellers in Europe during the Middle Ages, and imitation books and people claiming to be members of the Order of the Rose Cross appeared. In just a short time, the imaginary tale that these two blockheads crafted was edited by society, and eventually became a reality in the course of subsequent history. Perhaps at a rate that even the two men could not stop.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­¡±


    ¡°They were a perfect match. Christoph was a fountain of all kinds of mystical knowledge from ancient times to the Middle Ages. But he himself could not do anything with his vast knowledge. That¡¯s where Johannes came in. He browsed through Christoph¡¯s vast knowledge, gathered only the interesting parts, and edited them. The talents of these two men brought the Order of the Rose Cross into life. Various books were published about the Order, creating a post-medieval frenzy.¡±


    Victorique set the book down and chewed on a macaroon.


    ¡°So about the Meissen porcelain,¡± she continued.


    ¡°Change of subjects already, huh?¡±


    ¡°Not at all.¡± Victorique tossed the macaroon wrapper aside. Kazuya picked it up and put it in his pocket. ¡°Now we go to 18th century Germany, where there was a young blockhead named Friedrich Bottger.¡±


    ¡°Another blockhead?¡±


    ¡°Yes. The history of alchemy is, in essence, the history of these blockheads. Friedrich was an apprentice apothecary, but he went around telling everyone that he was a great alchemist and that he had a Philosopher¡¯s Stone. One night, the Polish king¡¯s army kidnapped Friedrich. There was something the king really wanted.¡±


    ¡°Money?¡±


    ¡°No. There are these beautiful porcelain plates in your country, no? I believe it¡¯s called Imari1.¡±


    Kazuya nodded. ¡°Yup. They¡¯re white, smooth, and pretty. What about it?¡±


    ¡°The King of Poland was very fond of the porcelain plates he received from the Orient. At the time, Imari ware were precious items, valued at the same price as gold. The king wished to create exactly the same thing using alchemy. Friedrich, imprisoned in the royal workshop, was at a loss. He wanted to go home so badly, but he couldn¡¯t. The king had believed his lies and pestered him day and night to use his Philosopher¡¯s Stone. If he confessed, he would be executed. Friedrich drowned himself in alcohol while kneading and baking clay, and after ten years, he finally produced beautiful, white, smooth porcelain, similar to the Imari ware. Delighted, the king built a factory for mass production. That¡¯s how the Meissen porcelain came to be.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I didn¡¯t know that,¡± Kazuya remarked. ¡°So what happened to this Friedrich guy?¡±


    ¡°He died of stress and heavy drinking. A portrait of him is on display in the Meissen Porcelain Museum, with a pale face, gulping down a cup of wine. What I¡¯m trying to say is¡­¡±


    Victorique seemed irritated for some odd reason. Her cheeks were flushed. Kazuya studied her face curiously.


    ¡°Alchemists say enigmatic things to bewilder others, but the fact is that alchemy¡¯s history is fraught with fraud. What I have just told you is only a small part of that history. Some men went too far with their lies, and some wrote fantasy literature to pass the time. Over the course of centuries, the people who wanted to believe their lies, and time itself, turned their fantasy into reality.¡± Victorique snorted. ¡°In other words, the alchemist Leviathan, who lived in St. Marguerite Academy, was just one of those frauds. Needless to say, he did not create something out of nothing. He was just skilled at deceiving people. They¡¯re eternal pranksters, so to speak. Unruly children who won¡¯t come down from the tree even when their mother is angry.¡±


    ¡°But apparently that alchemist became quite famous and ended up meddling in Sauville¡¯s politics.¡±


    ¡°Utter nonsense. Had I lived in the same period as Leviathan, I would have exposed his trickery. With my Wellspring of Wisdom, I would have picked up the scattered pieces of chaos from behind his mask, reconstructed them, and choked the life out of him in no time at all!¡± Victorique¡¯s face was red. ¡°I will speak for the fool and reveal his secrets!¡± she declared, her face filled with rage.


    Kazuya regarded her small face. ¡°Hmm¡­?¡±


    A breeze blew through the skylight, tousling Victorique¡¯s long hair. A wisp of smoke billowed to the ceiling from the pipe sitting on the shoe-shaped pipe rest. Birds chirped in the distance.


    ¡°Sounds like you¡¯re having a lot of fun,¡± Kazuya said.


    ¡°Fun? Me?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Because for once you¡¯re not bored, thanks to that alchemist.¡±


    Victorique¡¯s cheeks puffed, and she fell silent. Kazuya watched her with a smile.


    White smoke continued rising toward the skylight. Birds chirped once more.


    The dazzling sunlight spilling through the skylight announced to the conservatory that it was already summer outside.

 Volume 4 - CH 1.6

    The next day.


    It was a hot Monday morning, two days before the long summer break.


    As usual, Kazuya woke up at exactly 7:00 a.m. without an alarm clock and got out of his bed with bleary eyes. He washed his face in the bathroom, brushed his teeth, put on his uniform and tie, and left the room with his bag, containing textbooks and notebooks that he had already put inside last night.


    When he went down to the dining hall, it was still empty. The children of nobility were not morning people; they all slept until the very last minute. Kazuya greeted the sexy, red-haired dorm mother, who served him breakfast.


    ¡°By the way, Kujou,¡± the dorm mother said, pouring him another cup of tea. There was a cigarette in her mouth. ¡°You went to the movie theater yesterday, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°I did. Wait, you too?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± She shook her head. ¡°Not me, but my friend. She said she saw an oriental man at the movie theater. The only oriental guy around here is you.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­ Yeah, I guess.¡±


    ¡°She said you were with a red-haired hunk. How do you know him? The girls in the village are dying to know who he is.¡±


    ¡°A red-haired hunk?¡± Kazuya wore a puzzled look.


    I was with Avril yesterday.


    After thinking about it for a while, he realized that the oriental man the dorm mother was referring to was not him, but the pair of guys he had seen on the way back to the academy. One of them was an oriental man with a sharp look in his eyes and the other had fiery red hair peeking out from his hat.


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t me,¡± Kazuya said. ¡°I was with my classmate the whole time.¡±


    ¡°Is that so? Apparently they winked at my friend, and she got all fidgety.¡±


    ¡°You should¡¯ve realized that it wasn¡¯t me when she mentioned the winking part. There¡¯s no way I could do that!¡±


    ¡°Really? Wanna give it a try, then?¡±


    The dorm mother winked at Kazuya, and he blushed.


    Kazuya finished his breakfast and left the dormitory. Straightening his posture, he walked straight toward the school building.


    As he walked along his usual path, his gaze went to the old clock tower that he had never paid attention to before.


    Hmm?


    The gray stone tower was dark and shadowed, as though it was still nighttime. The door that Avril had kicked down yesterday was dangling open.


    Ms. Cecile said she¡¯d have the door fixed right away.


    Feeling somewhat responsible, Kazuya turned down the path and trotted toward the clock tower. A closer look at the door revealed that it had been fitted with a new lock, but there were traces of it being pried open.


    Kazuya peered into the tower. He saw the exact same thing as yesterday. A dark and dusty corridor and a staircase leading to the darkness at the end.


    Warily, he stepped inside. ¡°Is anyone there?¡± There was no answer.


    I better tell Ms. Cecile about the broken door.


    As he turned back, he heard a faint squeak, the sound of a door opening inside. Kazuya whirled back around. ¡°Is someone there?¡± he asked, a little louder this time.


    Still no answer.


    After some hesitation, he stepped into the tower.


    As he walked down the corridor, he felt dizzy as he did yesterday. It was difficult to explain. He felt stifled, like space itself was distorted, as if his head was being squeezed. Kazuya went up the stairs and stumbled over the same spot where Avril had tripped. Perplexed, he continued up the stairs and found the second door that Avril had kicked in yesterday, the mysterious door to the workshop with the giant clockworks and pendulum.


    The door was open. He could hear the springs squeaking.


    Slowly Kazuya stepped inside and peered into the workshop.


    A man was lying on the floor.


    Kazuya rushed to the man and helped him up. They had the same skin color¡ªit was the oriental man that he saw yesterday. When he sensed Kazuya, the man slowly opened his eyes, almond-shaped and bearing the same jet-black color as Kazuya¡¯s.


    He extended a trembling hand toward Kazuya. His eyes were wide open, and the whites of his eyes were bloodshot, the veins looking as if they would pop. His pupils were dilated, and a faint moan escaped his lips.


    Kazuya noticed a strange smudge on the man¡¯s forefinger, a purple-colored bruise the size of a coin. Shaking, the man clung to Kazuya and whispered in his ear. His voice was ominously raspy, as though coming from the depths of hell.


    ¡°The alchemist¡­!¡± he groaned.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Leviathan!¡± the man screeched. Then his head dropped.


    Kazuya shook the man repeatedly, but he wouldn¡¯t respond. He was dead. Kazuya left the man there and dashed out of the room. As he stepped out into the corridor, his eyes caught a flicker of motion, a black shadow zipping past outside the small window.


    Kazuya scrambled down the stairs. ¡°Wait¡­¡± He turned around. Slowly, he returned to the small window.


    ¡°A shadow? That can¡¯t be right.¡± He glanced back at the stairs, flummoxed. ¡°This is the second floor. There¡¯s no way someone could pass by outside the window.¡±


    The wind whistled outside, followed by a rattling.


    Kazuya recalled Avril¡¯s frightened expression and trembling voice.


    ¡°We can¡¯t stop halfway, or something evil will show up.¡±


    Behind him, gears squeaked as they turned.


    The police arrived about thirty minutes after receiving the report. Kazuya, who found the body, Ms. Cecile, who had received the news from Kazuya, and several senior teachers were gathered at the scene.


    An unfamiliar, attractive young man strolled across the dewy path toward them. He had long golden hair hanging down his back, and the chiseled features of a noble. His green eyes held a hint of distress, and he was dressed fashionably in a pure-white shirt blouse and riding pants.


    The handsome man immediately approached the discoverer, Kazuya. ¡°Good morning, Kujou.¡±


    ¡°Good morning¡­? Wait, do I know you?¡±


    The man regarded Kazuya uncomfortably. He then gathered his long, silky blonde hair with both hands and pulled it forward into the shape of a cannon.


    ¡°It¡¯s me,¡± he said.


    ¡°Whaaat?! The inspector?!¡±


    Ms. Cecile¡¯s mouth dropped open as she stared blankly at Inspector Blois. Kazuya watched the inspector for a while, unable to speak.


    The inspector let go of his hair, letting it slide back down behind him, framing his scowling, yet stunning face golden.


    ¡°Did you change your hairstyle?¡± Kazuya asked. ¡°You look decent.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t,¡± Inspector Blois huffed. ¡°It¡¯s so early, I didn¡¯t have time to fix it.¡±


    ¡°I-I see¡­¡±


    The inspector began fidgeting, his silky hair swaying from side to side. He smelled good.


    ¡°It¡¯s so silky,¡± Kazuya remarked in an uneasy tone.


    ¡°Mind your business. So, where¡¯s the crime scene?¡±


    ¡°Inside, in a room with clockworks. Smells like flowers.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s shampoo! Stop making fun of me. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    Designating Kazuya as his assistant, the inspector entered the clock tower, walked down the corridor and up the stairs. He was momentarily surprised by the huge clockworks and pendulum in the workshop. Upon seeing the corpse, he knelt down, and began studying it.


    ¡°An oriental man,¡± the inspector said. ¡°Is he related to you?¡±


    ¡°No! Sure he¡¯s an oriental, but he¡¯s probably from a different country. His face is a little different.¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡± Inspector Blois continued observing the body. ¡°If I recall, a couple of strangers came to the village yesterday, and one of them was an oriental man. Must be this guy.¡±


    ¡°How¡¯d you know that?¡±


    ¡°Through the grapevine. Gossips among young girls, in particular, are a valuable source of information for us. I also know that you went to the village yesterday. Apparently a couple of young students caused a ruckus at the movie theater.¡±


    ¡°I-I wouldn¡¯t call it a ruckus¡­¡±


    The inspector lifted his head. ¡°I heard you were with a pretty girl with short blond hair. Is that her?¡± He pointed behind Kazuya.


    Kazuya looked over his shoulder and saw Avril standing there in her school uniform, rubbing her blue eyes blearily.


    ¡°Avril!¡±


    ¡°K-Kujou! I heard something happened at the clock tower!¡± Avril ran up to Kazuya, then looked at Inspector Blois. She stared at the man for a bit, then frowned a little.


    ¡°¡­What?¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s this guy?¡±


    ¡°Inspector Blois. He¡¯s from the police.¡±


    Avril continued observing Inspector Blois, then brought his mouth closer to Kazuya¡¯s ear.


    ¡°Wh-What is it?¡± Kazuya asked.


    ¡°He¡¯s very handsome, but there¡¯s something off about him.¡±


    ¡°I can hear you!¡± Inspector Blois barked.


    When they left the clock tower, Inspector Blois¡¯ men had just arrived, looking sleepy and still in their nightclothes. As usual, they were holding hands. There was a man with them, wearing a hat that hid his fiery red hair. It was the deceased¡¯s companion.


    ¡°We found him at the inn in the village,¡± one reported.


    ¡°He was sleeping soundly!¡± the other added.


    The red-haired man¡¯s face was obscured by his hat. He was tall and slender, and he carried himself nimbly, walking down the pebble-strewn path with a spryness that made him seem as if he were dancing on a cloud.


    He had chiseled features reminiscent of ancient sculpture, and he looked sinister with his dark-green upturned eyes and thin lips twisted in a sneer.


    ¡°Why did you come to the village?¡± Inspector Blois asked.


    ¡°Wong, my companion, seemed to have his own reasons, but I had no idea what it was,¡± the man replied.


    ¡°Where were you this morning?¡±


    ¡°I was at the inn the whole time. I¡¯m sure the innkeeper can vouch for me. For the record, it¡¯s physically impossible for me to have killed Wong. Unless, of course, I was at the inn and the clock tower at the same time.¡±


    ¡°Why did you come to the village?¡±


    The man¡¯s lips quirked up, and his cat-like eyes narrowed. His entire body seemed to emit some sort of invisible energy.


    ¡°I came looking for a monster,¡± he said in a low voice.


    The man started laughing. Kazuya and Inspector Blois exchanged glances.


    Kazuya felt a poke from behind. He looked over his shoulder and saw Avril looking worried.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I was thinking¡­ with this incident and all¡­ that maybe it had something to do with what we did yesterday.¡±


    ¡°What did we do again?¡±


    Avril turned pale. ¡°The planchette!¡±


    ¡°Oh, that¡­¡±


    ¡°What if this happened because of that?¡±


    ¡°N-No way. That¡¯s just superstition. Don¡¯t worry about it. There must be another reason for this. A living person killed him, not a curse or something evil. Ah, right! Sorry, Avril. I¡¯ll see you later.¡±


    Kazuya hurried away from the tower.


    The morning sun was shining on the garden. The crystal fountain sparkled, and bright-green foliage rustled in the breeze.


    Avril stood in front of the fountain, brooding over the planchette for a while, until she realized something.


    ¡°Oh, no!¡± She frowned. ¡°He must have gone to the library again!¡±

 Volume 4 - CH 1.7

    St. Marguerite Academy¡¯s Grand Library.


    A vast tower frozen in time, filled with nothing but dust, mold, and the smell of intellect. Huge bookshelves occupied the walls, and a maze of narrow wooden staircases ran through the middle of them.


    On the top floor of this silent sanctuary, Victorique de Blois was lost in thought, with only books and a ceramic pipe keeping her company.


    Her small, fragile body was covered with layers of lace and ruffles. Today she was wearing a white and pink organdy dress with shiny pearl buttons. Her cheeks were puffed out.


    ¡°I hate this,¡± she mumbled. At her feet lay the golden book she was reading yesterday. ¡°I hate this memoir!¡±


    Frowning, Victorique curled up into a white and pink ball and started rolling to the staircase landing.


    Bam!


    The leather swinging door far below flung open.


    ¡°Victorique!¡±


    It was her usual visitor.


    Victorique rose and grabbed onto the staircase¡¯s railing worked with scroll-leafs.


    ¡°Victorique, are you there?¡±


    When she noticed the oriental boy looking up, her green eyes narrowed. ¡°Kujou, come up right this instant!¡±


    ¡°What? Now this is new. You usually just ignore me!¡± There was joy in his voice.


    Victorique¡¯s face turned even grumpier. ¡°Stop yapping and start climbing!¡±


    She remained still with a frown on her face, but as Kazuya¡¯s footsteps began tapping up the stairs, Victorique became restless. She sighed, rocked back and forth, and occasionally looked downstairs over the railing, waiting impatiently for her friend to appear.


    Tap. Tap. Tap.


    Kazuya¡¯s rhythmical footsteps reverberated throughout the library.


    But the stairs were long. Kazuya had still not made it.


    And then, ten minutes later.


    ¡°Victorique! Whoa, what are you doing?¡±


    As soon as he stepped onto the landing, a white and fluffy ball rolled toward him with such force that he almost tumbled down the stairs.


    Victorique bolted up with a frown, scowling at Kazuya. ¡°You took too long,¡± she said in a husky voice.


    ¡°S-Sorry. I climbed as fast as I could, but humans have their limits. I would have loved to use the elevator.¡±


    ¡°You? Use the elevator?¡±


    The way she said it ticked Kazuya off. He plopped down beside her and remained silent for a while.


    ¡°Why do you have to put it like that?¡± he finally said. ¡°It¡¯s just rude. I gotta teach you how to respect others. Do you know what respect is?¡±


    ¡°You are too bound by values, Kujou.¡±


    Kazuya fell silent, disheartened. ¡°Am I?¡±


    ¡°You are.¡±


    He furrowed his brows. When he remained silent, Victorique looked at him curiously.


    ¡°Do you have a problem?¡± she asked.


    ¡°You bet I do. I got a long list of problems ever since I met you. And when I say long, I mean long.¡±


    Victorique ignored him, and he sighed.


    I can¡¯t outargue or outsmart her. But a man has his honor. One day, I will beat her speechless. He sighed once more. If only I knew her weakness¡­


    He glanced at Victorique. She was intently peeling the wrapper off a macaroon with her tiny hands. He thought she was going to eat it, but she didn¡¯t put the macaroon in her mouth, and instead flipped it around and licked it, repeating the process.


    Kazuya watched her curiously. What¡¯s she doing now?


    Victorique fiddled with the macaroon, deep in thought. Eventually her hands stopped. Her mind seemed to be somewhere else. She had forgotten to even eat the macaroon, her favorite snack.


    Something was bothering her, it seemed. Kazuya gently poked Victorique¡¯s rosy, swollen cheek.


    Victorique snapped back to her senses and shot Kazuya a glare. ¡°Don¡¯t touch me.¡±


    ¡°S-Sorry.¡±


    ¡°So what do you want?¡±


    ¡°Right. I got a case. Someone died mysteriously. It sounds like it involves that alchemist you were talking about yesterday. I thought you might be interested, and since Inspector Blois would probably come here anyway, I thought I¡¯d tell you about it. So, are you interested?¡±


    Victorique gave a jerk. She tossed the macaroon aside and poked Kazuya¡¯s cheek over and over.


    ¡°Speak,¡± she said.


    ¡°Okay¡­ So it all started with this horror movie I saw yesterday. Ow! There¡¯s a building in the academy that looks exactly like the clock tower in the movie, and it was used as a workshop by the starring alchemist. Ow! Apparently the movie was based on stories about the real alchemist. Yesterday, I saw two strangers when I left the movie theater. One was caucasian, and the other oriental. The oriental man was found dead in the clock tower this morning. He had a strange purple bruise on his index finger, and he mumbled something about the alchemist and Leviathan before he passed away. Ow! I can¡¯t talk properly with you poking my cheek. Hmm? What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    Wearing a grim look, Victorique pulled her finger away from Kazuya¡¯s face. She was thinking. At her feet lay the garish, golden book she had been reading so intently yesterday. She was staring at it silently.


    ¡°Speaking of which, the inspector sure is taking his time,¡± Kazuya muttered. ¡°Normally, he¡¯d act all smug at the crime scene, then come running here to ask for your help. Strange that he¡¯s not coming today. Victorique?¡±


    Victorique sprang to her feet. The sight of her petite figure in a daunting pose made Kazuya chuckle.


    ¡°What are you up to this time?¡±


    ¡°Foolish man.¡±


    ¡°You mean Inspector Blois?¡±


    Victorique shook her head. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Then me?¡±


    Victorique shook her head again.


    Kazuya brows knitted. ¡°I can¡¯t think of anyone else.¡±


    ¡°Leviathan.¡±


    ¡°What? Leviathan?¡± Shocked, Kazuya stood up. ¡°So you¡¯re saying it was the alchemist who killed the man this morning? But I heard he was killed by the Royal Knights twenty years ago. Or maybe¡­ Wait, where are you going?¡±


    ¡°Down there.¡±


    Victorique started walking, her dress flaring behind her.


    Kazuya was stunned when he realized she was heading toward the elevator. ¡°Down there? You mean you¡¯re leaving the library? What are you gonna do?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m leaving the library,¡± she answered in her husky voice, walking briskly.


    Kazuya¡¯s mouth was agape. ¡°Oh¡­ so you¡¯re heading down there¡­¡±


    He recalled the countless exchanges he had had with Victorique, and the adventures they had together.


    Twice before, Kazuya left the academy with Victorique and traveled to the outside world. But otherwise, he had only seen her either in the mysterious conservatory at the top of the library or in the small special dormitory deep inside the flowerbed maze.


    Kazuya tried to imagine Victorique in a classroom, or on a small path through the gardens. He pictured her in her school uniform, taking classes and eating lunch with everyone else in the cafeteria.


    He couldn¡¯t visualize it properly.


    ¡°Why are you heading down there?¡± Kazuya asked hesitantly.


    Victorique turned around. There was something inexplicable in her pale, emerald eyes. Kazuya gulped. It looked like anger, or despair, yet also seemed like delight.


    Kazuya realized that he knew nothing about his strange and bizarre little friend. Loneliness and anxiety gripped him.


    ¡°Leave me alone,¡± she said.


    ¡°Are you mad, by any chance?¡±


    Victorique did not answer. A breeze blew through the skylight, rustling her dress and the palm leaves.


    ¡°Victorique?¡±


    ¡°I accept his challenge.¡±


    ¡°Whose challenge?¡±


    ¡°The alchemist¡¯s. That right there is his memoir. I will solve the mystery of Leviathan and stop the killings. The mystery will be hard to crack, I¡¯m sure, but I have my Wellspring of Wisdom. I will pick up the fragments of chaos that he had scattered around the academy, reconstruct them, and expose his pathetic appearance in broad daylight.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re gonna solve the case?¡±


    ¡°That is correct.¡± Victorique nodded grimly. ¡°I told you before that the history of alchemy is the history of blockheads. I will uncover his secrets and turn his glorious fraudulent tale into a dull and boring chapter of history.¡±


    Kazuya picked up the golden book from the floor. He couldn¡¯t exactly follow what she was saying, but he knew that the book and its author had angered Victorique.


    Kazuya followed Victorique as she slowly entered the elevator. ¡°Can I read this?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Go ahead. But¡­¡± The elevator¡¯s steel door closed. Victorique pointed to the stairs. ¡°You take the stairs.¡±


    ¡°Oh, come on. You can at least let me in when you use it.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Why not?


    Victorique regarded him with melancholic eyes. ¡°Because, I love seeing you wheezing and gasping for air just to see me, your thighs aching as you plod up and down the stairs!¡±


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t! You monster!¡±


    ¡°Quit whining and follow me. Adieu, my diligent friend. I will see you downstairs.¡±


    Clank. Clank.


    The steel cage carrying Victorique descended into the hall below.


    Burning with frustration, anger, and loneliness, Kazuya quickly headed for the stairs.


    Damn that little¡­ Why does she have to be so mean? Plus she¡¯s immature, and whimsical¡­


    While descending, he felt curious about the book in his arms, so he opened it.


    ¡°Whoa!¡±


    Giant clockworks, a pendulum, a masked man in a robe, and a boy lying down popped out of the book. Kazuya almost tumbled down the stairs from surprise.


    A pop-up book. No¡­


    ¡°A pop-up memoir? Now that¡¯s something you don¡¯t see every day.¡±


    He studied the page. For a moment, it was as if the world inside the picture book was actually moving. The clock was ticking, the boy on the floor screaming, and the masked man, Leviathan, cackling at someone.


    Sensing a gaze, the man looked up and stared into the huge jet-black eyes of the kind-looking oriental boy peering into the miniature garden. Grinning, he pointed to the ground and commanded the boy to read.


    Kazuya snapped back to his senses. He looked at the words the man was pointing at.


    It said: Are you flummoxed? Are you infuriated?


    Kazuya frowned at the provocative text. ¡°Not good. There¡¯s no way Victorique would let this slide. This explains her behavior yesterday. She¡¯s incredibly smart, but also childish and competitive. And this alchemist¡­¡± He sighed. ¡°He sounds a bit childish too. I mean, who makes a pop-up memoir, really? With Victorique taking the bait, it now feels like a children¡¯s quarrel. Well, things just got crazy.¡±


    Kazuya¡¯s grim face showed a bit of confusion. Sighing, he turned the page.


    ¡°Whoa!¡±


    Something jumped out again. It was, after all, a pop-up memoir.


    The setting had switched to a luxurious hall that resembled a royal court. There was a masked man holding out a bright blue rose and a beautiful lady clasping her hands in front of her chest, looking delighted. The lady possessed graceful beauty, a shiny crown sitting on her head.


    It was the then Queen of Sauville. Her eyes were closed in ecstasy.


    Kazuya ran his eyes over the text.


    It began with the following sentence.


    Winter, 1899. The cursed nineteenth century, marked by the advancement of science and the decline of sorcery, is coming to an end, and the last year of the century is about to begin.


    I, Leviathan, hereby write.

 Volume 4 - CH 2.1

    ¡ªLeviathan 1¡ª


    Winter, 1899.


    The cursed nineteenth century, marked by the advancement of science and the decline of sorcery, is coming to an end, and the last year of the century is about to begin.


    I, Leviathan, hereby write.


    I beseech you, unlock your heart and lend me your ear. I am the last and most powerful sorcerer of this century. I am an alchemist who created something out of nothing.


    Here, I share my story.


    Long ago I, Leviathan, was nothing more than a nameless vagabond. I spent my years on long and weary travels. I had been to every corner of Europe, and not content with that, to India, Morocco, and the Dark Continent. Eternity had tried to rob me of my spirit. I was simply wandering.


    At the very beginning of my journey, I acquired a stone. I took it from an old man who claimed to be an alchemist. He said that the stone, red as a maiden¡¯s fresh blood, was a Philosopher¡¯s Stone. I, a rash youth, wanted it, so I killed the old man, thus obtaining eternal life.


    Now, this memoir is not about my years of travel. As such, I will begin with the events of two years ago, in the winter of 1897.


    That winter, on nothing but a whim, I abandoned my roving lifestyle and visited St. Marguerite Academy in the outskirts of the Kingdom of Sauville, where I was hired as a watchman of the academy¡¯s clock tower. I wished to rest my fatigued body, and to have a workshop to study the Philosopher¡¯s Stone.


    Day and night, I polished the huge clockworks and pendulum in the dim tower. Then, using the same room as my workshop, I began to decipher the ancient manuscripts that I had taken from the old man.


    It was not long after that that I found a way to create gold. Following a certain procedure, I used an inexpensive item that was available to anyone, and to my surprise, it quickly turned to gold.


    I decided to sell it in the village.


    The gold was unmistakably real, and I earned a large sum of money.


    I became famous in the village in an instant. My careless nature reared its head, and I told the villagers about alchemy and the Philosopher¡¯s Stone.


    Soon, messengers arrived from Saubreme. They looked grandiose with their formal attire and trumpets. They read to me a letter from the Queen of Sauville.


    I was surprised and delighted at the same time. The queen was a noble who had just married the king, and portraits of her transient beauty had circulated throughout the kingdom. It is no exaggeration to say that the queen was all that people talked about during this time.


    The queen¡¯s letter was astonishing. She asked me, a drifter alchemist, to come to the palace.


    I gave my affirmation to the messengers. I told them that I would be there at the appointed time.


    The messengers rode back on their horses, and in their place, a grand army arrived. While the queen¡¯s messengers were lovely servants, the king¡¯s royal guards were a bunch of big, rugged men lined up in a row. I prepared myself for the worst.


    It seemed, however, that they too had business with me. The group was led by an older man dressed in aristocratic fashion. He introduced himself as Baron Musgrave, the Minister of Justice of the Kingdom of Sauville.


    A visit from the Minister of Justice right after receiving the queen¡¯s invitation. He proclaimed to be the king¡¯s envoy. Unlike the amiable attendants, he began questioning me in a very high-handed manner.


    ¡°Are you a fraud?¡± he asked.


    ¡°No more than you,¡± I answered flatly.


    Baron Musgrave¡¯s elegant mustache twitched in anger. As he reached for the long sword at his waist, shouting, there came a voice.


    An innocent, carefree laughter. The Baron froze.


    The laughter seemed to come from the parked lavish carriage.


    The carriage door opened and the owner of the voice jumped out nimbly. To my surprise, it was a boy of only thirteen or fourteen. He introduced himself as Ian, the eldest son of Baron Musgrave. He had short hair and a face so childlike that he could be mistaken for a woman. The boy approached the masked man in a robe¡ªthat is, me¡ªwithout any sign of fear, and asked me questions.


    Apparently, the Baron¡¯s eldest son was interested in alchemy. The Baron scolded his son, his shoulders trembling even more from rage.


    I could not hide my confusion. Why would the Queen¡¯s messengers, and now the Minister of Justice and his son, come to a village in the countryside?


    Baron Musgrave, accompanied by his retinue of brawny knights, entered my workshop¡ªthe room with the clockworks. At the Baron¡¯s orders, the knights searched every inch of my workshop, turning everything upside down and ransacking the place. Someone tugged at my hand, which was trembling with fury and doubt. I looked over my shoulder and saw the boy, Ian.


    ¡°The king and my father think you¡¯re a fraud,¡± he whispered in my ear. ¡°The queen is ignorant to the ways of the world, so they fear she¡¯s being deceived by you.¡±


    ¡°Me? A fraud?¡±


    I could not stop laughing upon hearing those words. Ian smiled as well.


    ¡°Ian, was it? Do you share their opinion?¡± I asked.


    He shook his head. ¡°No. I¡¯m hoping you¡¯re the real deal.¡± He looked at me quizzically, stared at the face hidden behind the mask. ¡°The queen has met dozens of people who claim to be alchemists and sorcerers. My father says she must be nervous about her new position in the royal court, so she wants something to hang on to, some great, mysterious power. And she wants that person to protect her. But so far, the queen has only met frauds. That¡¯s why the king and my father take preemptive measures.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­ But what are they doing in my workshop?¡±


    ¡°They want you to perform alchemy. So they are investigating things beforehand. Does it offend you?¡±


    I laughed at the question. I looked around the darkly-lit workshop, at the room of pendulum and clockworks. There was nothing here. Nothing but my mystical powers. What was there to fear?


    The queen¡¯s image that I had seen in portraits, her beauty, tinged with uneasiness, came to mind.


    At that moment, I felt something in my heart that I had never felt before during my years as a wanderer. A desire. An ambition.


    I wanted them, things that were once out of reach for me.


    Alluring beauty. Authority. And wealth.


    After inspecting my workshop, the baron ordered his men to lock me up inside with only a little food.


    ¡°You will not leave this place until you produce gold,¡± Baron Musgrave declared. ¡°You will stay here for years as punishment for deceiving the masses.¡±


    ¡°Three days,¡± I said.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Open the door in three days. I will give you the gold then. If I manage to produce gold, you will let me see the queen.¡±


    The baron was taken aback.


    ¡°Should I fail, you may hang me.¡±


    In the morning three days later, the door slowly opened. I saw the baron¡¯s pale face, Ian peering anxiously at his side, and the royal guards.


    I staggered toward the baron, breathing heavily, and presented to him a nugget of gold.


    Yes. A shiny, nugget of gold that was sitting on my gloved hand.


    The baron gasped and looked around the workshop.


    ¡°How in the world did you do it?¡± he asked. ¡°There are no other ways out of this place. We searched the whole workshop, and the building was surrounded. You fraud! How did you do it?!¡±


    ¡°Take me to the queen,¡± I groaned, before collapsing on the floor. ¡°I shall protect her.¡± A snicker escaped the corner of my mouth.


    I had wandered aimlessly for eternity, in what seemed like a never-ending nightmare.


    The time had finally come.


    I will crawl out of hell¡ªthe hell that appeared from underneath the earth a long time ago.


    The royal palace of Sauville welcomed me.


    The queen was so emotional that she almost fainted. I was pleased by her reaction. The queen was young, beautiful, lonely, and she seemed to have a great interest in the mystic arts.


    The King of Sauville, on the other hand, regarded me with suspicion. The king was a grown man, but he was young and quite handsome. I noticed that his eyes held not only suspicion, but a glimmer of expectation.


    I knew exactly what the king was thinking. Sauville was in dire financial straits. As the end of the century approached, the sound of war could be heard coming from across Europe. The small kingdom needed tremendous financial resources to survive. The more, the better. The king desperately wanted gold, and he was willing to give the queen away for it.


    And the queen herself feared that her youthful and lovely appearance would one day fade. She was willing to do anything to obtain immortality, one of the products of alchemy.


    I humbled myself and greeted them both. I told them how I loved Sauville and how I wanted to serve the kingdom.


    Among the lavish decorations of the palace, I found a vase of flowers and picked one up.


    A white rose.


    ¡°Your Majesties,¡± I said, ¡°As proof of my loyalty to you, I will turn this colorless white rose into a blue one as a blessing of your union.¡±


    The queen was delighted. The crest of the royal family of Sauville featured a blue rose.


    ¡°Preposterous!¡± Baron Musgrave, sitting at the furthest seat, hissed. ¡°There is no such thing as a blue rose. There are flowers of all colors in the world, but no one can create a blue rose. It¡¯s impossible!¡±


    ¡°With alchemy, nothing is impossible.¡±


    ¡°Nonsense!¡±


    I looked at the king. He was regarding me with a frown. His eyes were filled with suspicion.


    ¡°I have a proposal, Your Majesty. If I fail to bring forth a blue rose, you may execute me. I am not afraid. But if I am successful¡­¡±


    And so I expressed my wish.


    The Kingdom of Sauville, like other European powers, had been pouring resources into colonial policies since the turn of the century. A percentage of their wealth came from the treasures of the Dark Continent across the sea. Spices, pepper, coffee beans, diamonds, and artifacts from archaeological sites¡ªinfinite wealth from tropical islands, India, and the African continent.


    I asked for a chance to express my opinion on colonial policies. The king¡¯s brows knitted, but he eventually agreed.


    ¡°Very well,¡± he said.


    The baron and the queen watched with bated breath.


    I gently grasped the white rose and poured my strength into it.


    I struggled. I was shivering, sweating, my whole body shaking. A stir spread through the palace. Slowly, I opened my eyes and saw the white rose in my hand slowly turning bright blue.


    The queen let out a gasp of admiration. She closed her eyes and clasped her hands together in front of her chest.


    Then slowly she descended from her throne and knelt before me, deeply moved. I politely offered her the blue rose.


    ¡°Ah, my dear alchemist!¡± she exclaimed as she accepted the flower.


    ¡°All my power belongs to you, my beautiful queen. From now and forever more.¡±


    Under the mask, I was smiling.


    I was pleased.


    And when I lifted my head, I saw the king glaring at me with dark eyes.

 Volume 4 - CH 2.2

    I returned to the clock tower in the village and continued producing gold in my workshop. At the royal court, I curried the queen¡¯s favor and offered my opinion on the colonial policies. The queen revered me, pampered me, and wanted to take this mysterious masked man with her wherever she went.


    I continued to give gold to the king. I also promised to cast a magic spell on the queen so she would never age, despite the fact that she was young and lovely enough to not have to worry about such things.


    One day, the king stopped me in the opulent corridors of the royal palace.


    ¡°Who are you really?¡± he demanded.


    ¡°¡­What?¡±


    ¡°One king is enough for a kingdom. What are you planning? What are you after?¡±


    I laughed at his words. How could the king possibly know my true objective?


    The king feared me and at some point began to call me Leviathan, the incarnation of the serpent that gave Adam and Eve the forbidden apple in the Bible. The Leviathan was a gigantic, immortal monster with the power to destroy the world.


    The king regarded me with cold eyes.


    ¡°Leviathan, the alchemist! Sinister man. You have brought wealth to my kingdom and stolen the heart of my precious queen. Who are you? What are you hiding under that mask?¡±


    Fear suddenly gripped my heart. Fear that the king would one day unmask me. Unsolved mysteries can eat away at one¡¯s mind. The king must spend sleepless nights thinking only of this mask, which I never removed even when my queen begged me to.


    If my mask is peeled off, it will be the end of me.


    My eternal life will be extinguished at that moment, and my body will return to the earth as it was supposed to ages ago.


    I write this memoir now, winter of 1899.


    I can no longer bear the weight of my sin. At that time, I was simply desperate. I had no other choice. Somewhere down the line, I must have gone mad.


    Was it when I met the queen, an innocent femme fatale? Or was I already mad when I perished a long, long time ago, and rose back to life?


    My sin was not my deception of the king and his ministers.


    Nor was it my manipulation of the innocent queen.


    No¡­


    My sin was brutally murdering Ian, the son of Baron Musgrave.


    Ian, the boy who smiled at me the day I first met him. Two years later, in the clockwork room, he collapsed at my feet, screaming in agony. Hot, golden liquid flowed down his slender throat and tore through his smooth white belly from the inside, spilling out along with fresh blood and ruptured entrails.


    The last gold I ever made.


    Ian de Musgrave died a horrible death.


    I killed him.


    No one knows how I did it.


    You, of the future.


    Are you a man?


    A woman?


    An adult?


    A child?


    It matters not. Save me. I cannot bear the weight of my sin! Should the time of my death come, my soul will forever linger in the clock tower where Ian died.


    I killed Ian.


    And I shall continue to kill.


    I will roam the clock tower for eternity as a vile murderer.


    Chapter 2: The Clockwork¡¯s Dark Past


    The U-shaped school building standing in the middle of the vast campus of St. Marguerite Academy had stone halls, high-ceilinged hallways, and staircases so complex as to seem like mazes from the eyes of a new student.


    On the second floor of the school building, in the usual spacious classroom, students¡ªsophisticated but a little too unapproachable children of nobility¡ªhad already gathered and taken their seats. It was around 8:30 in the morning. They glanced at each other, waiting for their homeroom teacher, who should have arrived by now.


    With exams in all subjects done and only a few classes remaining, the students were more relaxed than ever, chatting and doing their hair.


    Avril, an international student, was lounging by the window of the classroom, her chin resting on her hand. She was wearing a frown. A summer breeze blowing through the window stirred her short blonde hair.


    ¡°He¡¯s late. Morning class is about to start,¡± she mumbled with a sigh.


    Outside, the garden glistened under the summer sun, thick shrubs glowing bright-green. Birds perched on the roof of the small square gazebos chittered.


    ¡°An honor student who never comes in late or leaves early, but when it comes to the library, this happens,¡± Avril grumbled, watching the garden from the second-floor window. ¡°How cute is that girl in the library anyway? I¡¯m not bad-looking either¡­ I think¡­ Actually, I don¡¯t know.¡±


    Like a dog scolded by its owner, Avril cast her eyes down, dejected.


    Birds chirped once more from atop the gazebo.


    ¡°What if the me I see in the mirror is just my mind dolling me up? Maybe in Kujou¡¯s eyes, I look like a very plain, typical English woman. No!¡±


    Avril poked a nearby female student with pigtails, who was flipping through her textbook. She looked up with a frown, her almond-shaped eyes narrowing.


    ¡°What?¡± she huffed.


    ¡°Be honest,¡± Avril said. ¡°How do I look?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ It pains me to admit it, but I think you¡¯re the prettiest girl in class.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    The girl nodded a couple of times and turned her attention back to her textbook. Delighted, Avril began tugging at her hair and fixing it.


    ¡°Where is he?¡± she mumbled again, looking out the window.


    Her eyes caught something white.


    ¡°Huh?¡± She rose to her feet.


    It was trotting along the bright pathway toward the school building. She had never seen something like it before.


    A doll.


    It was a porcelain doll with long, bright golden hair that hung down to its feet like an untied velvet turban. The white ruffles and pink laces of its dress swayed softly as it walked, pearl buttons glinting in the morning sun. It was just outside the window, crossing the path in front of the school building. Avril couldn¡¯t see its face clearly, but it was small, with fluffy frills and golden hair. It was a captivating doll, grabbing hold of Avril¡¯s heart and not letting go.


    ¡°What a pretty doll! Is it an antique? Mass-produced dolls in this century don¡¯t look like that. It¡¯s so sparkly, so fair and smooth, and those rosy cheeks! Plus it¡¯s walking like an actual human being¡­ Wait, huh?¡± Avril leaned forward. ¡°It¡¯s walking!¡± she exclaimed.


    ¡°Keep it down,¡± the female student growled, lifting her head.


    ¡°S-Sorry¡­ I just saw a doll walking around like a human being. Historic schools are just different, huh? Weird stuff happening so early in the morning.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about? English women sure are stupid.¡±


    ¡°What did you say?!¡± She turned her gaze back to the window. ¡°Huh?!¡±


    ¡°What is it this time?¡±


    ¡°I know who owns the walking doll. It¡¯s Ms. Cecile!¡±


    Ms. Cecile, who was hurrying down the path toward the school building, noticed the walking doll and rushed over. Unaware that Avril was watching, she started arguing with the walking doll. The teacher was getting angry, but the doll snubbed her and tried to walk away. Ms. Cecile, however, was not to be outdone. Having enough of the doll¡¯s tantrum, she spread her arms wide¡­


    ¡°She lifted it,¡± Avril said.


    ¡°Well, of course,¡± the female student scoffed. ¡°It¡¯s a doll, after all.¡±


    Avril watched as the teacher slid her arms into the doll¡¯s sides from behind, lifted it up, and dragged it toward the school building. The doll¡¯s face turned crimson as it flailed its arms and legs in resistance. The lace of her dress billowed majestically, and her pink petticoat rippled in the wind. It seemed, for a moment, like a rose blooming.


    Then, an oriental boy¡ªKazuya Kujou¡ªcame walking from the end of the pathway with a straight posture. He was carrying a huge golden book under his arm. Kazuya looked up when he noticed the commotion, and for some reason jumped when he saw the doll. He ran up to the doll, and started arguing with it along with Ms. Cecile.


    ¡°Kujou too? What on earth is going on here?¡± Avril wondered.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you close the window and prepare for the lesson?¡± her classmate said.


    ¡°But the moving doll¡­¡±


    ¡°Avril Bradley. This academy is riddled with horror stories. Statues drink at night, empty suits of armor run around, and a classmate who never comes to class is a Gray Wolf. A moving doll is no big deal. Please go back to your seat. You¡¯ve been disturbing me for a while now.¡±


    Shrugging, Avril jumped off the female student¡¯s desk, which she had climbed onto to get a better look out the window, and reluctantly returned to her seat, opening her textbook.

 Volume 4 - CH 2.3

    ¡°Shut up, stupid Cecile!¡± Victorique shrieked as she flailed about. ¡°I am going to the clock tower. Only in there can the mystery of the Leviathan be exposed to the light of day. My Wellspring of Wisdom says so. Get out of my way! I¡¯m not going to any stupid classroom!¡±


    Ms. Cecile was walking down the corridor with Victorique in her arms.


    ¡°Let me go! I don¡¯t want to go to class!¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± Kazuya, walking along beside them, asked.


    Enraged, Victorique¡¯s face turned red as an apple. ¡°Because there¡¯s lots of kids in there!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a kid too. And so am I.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t stand it when there¡¯s too many of them!¡±


    ¡°Come on. You can at least show up for a little bit. You¡¯ve been in the library this whole time. It wouldn¡¯t hurt to show your face in the classroom during that rare moment you actually come down.¡±


    ¡°I said I don¡¯t want to!¡±


    ¡°All classes are canceled today anyway,¡± Ms. Cecile said serenely. ¡°With the incident on campus and all. You don¡¯t have to stay long.¡±


    ¡°No!¡±


    As Victorique thrashed about, her heel hit Ms. Cecile in the stomach. The teacher groaned and scowled. Then, standing in front of the classroom with a smile, she casually tossed Victorique inside.


    The appearance of the sudden intruder silenced the noisy classroom.


    Avril, reading her textbook, heard squabbling coming from the hallway, followed by something being tossed into the classroom.


    ¡°It¡¯s the doll from earlier!¡± she gasped.


    The doll covered in white ruffles and pink lace remained still for a while, then eventually rose, slowly, as if wary of its surroundings. It swept a surreptitious glance at the room.


    The students stared at the mass of frills with bated breath.


    Soon after, a boy¡ªKazuya Kujou, an international student from the Orient, whom the students feared and called the Reaper¡ªentered the room and casually reached for the doll. He gripped the doll¡¯s tiny hand and helped it up, wearing a soft smile that Avril loved so much.


    ¡°I bet you don¡¯t know where your seat is,¡± he said. ¡°This way, Victorique.¡±


    The classroom stirred. Students exchanged glances.


    V-Victorique?!


    Avril swallowed. She studied the tiny, beautiful, angelic girl, whom she mistook for an elaborate porcelain doll.


    Her beauty could not be measured with ordinary standards. She had skin that was smooth and white like porcelain, and her cheeks were a lovely rosy color. Her body, clothed in a wonderful dress, was so small, and her head, hands, every part of her, made her look like an intricate doll crafted for the gods. Despite her extravagant dress, her long golden hair, which almost reached her feet, was neither braided nor tied, simply hanging down her back. It gave her a mysterious, distinctive air¡ªpetite, beautiful, and quiet, yet somehow vicious.


    The girl¡ªthe legendary truant Victorique de Blois, whom no one had ever seen before, despite there being countless rumors about her, that she was the illegitimate child of a noble, or the reincarnation of a Gray Wolf¡ªseemed even more extraordinary in person. Avril observed the small, beautiful girl whose dignified aura overwhelmed everyone present, and Kazuya Kujou, who held her hand in the most casual manner possible, talking to her as he guided her to her seat.


    Avril wore a blank expression for a while, but eventually she looked teary-eyed, her lips trembling.


    Noticing her gaze, Kazuya looked at her. He smiled as their eyes met.


    ¡°Hey, Avril.¡±


    ¡°H-Hey¡­¡±


    ¡°Sorry about earlier. Talk to you later.¡±


    ¡°Okay¡­¡±


    Kazuya¡¯s smile provided her a bit of relief. She glanced back at Victorique de Blois, who was sitting by the window, looking downward and staring at the tip of her shoes.


    Victorique looked restless, casting anxious glances at her surroundings and then directing her gaze back down again. Her cheeks had turned from rosy to dark from anger or fear. Her milky skin turned pale. Avril felt a little worried. She looked at Kazuya, but he seemed unaware. He was sitting up straight and staring at Ms. Cecile standing at the podium.


    ¡°Everyone, something actually happened this morning, so classes are canceled for the day,¡± the teacher announced. ¡°Before I dismiss you, I will return your exams, so please come forward if your name is called. Afterwards, you should return to your dorm rooms and continue studying on your own. Don¡¯t slack off just because it¡¯s almost summer break.¡±


    Ms. Cecile started calling each student by name and returning their exam papers.


    Victorique, on the other hand, looked as if she was about to pass out and fall out of her chair. Avril glanced around restlessly. The feelings of anger and concern toward this girl she had never met before left her confused.


    Argh, darn it¡­ Let me just mess around with her a little bit. Just a little bit. Then maybe we¡¯ll both feel better.


    Avril slowly stretched her hand out. Victorique, staring at her shoes, was unmoving, her long golden hair hanging down to the floor. Avril grabbed a tuft of her golden hair and whispered.


    ¡°Hey, Gray Wolf! She-wolf. Monster. Monster!¡± She pulled on her hair just a little so it wouldn¡¯t hurt.


    Victorique swiftly turned around.


    Avril¡¯s smiling face contorted with fear. Victorique was holding a desk. Her eyes, which Avril now saw up close for the first time, were a pale green color, with a mystical glow in them that said she was neither a child nor an adult, and her face was horrifyingly devoid of emotion. She lifted the desk with both hands, and without hesitation, threw it at Avril, toppling her backward.


    ¡°Insolent girl,¡± Victorique said in a raspy voice, lower and grimmer than anything Avril had heard before. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare touch me!¡±


    ¡°S-Sorry, I meant no offense,¡± Avril muttered. ¡°Gray Wolves are terrifying¡­¡±


    Avril lost consciousness.


    Avril woke up in the infirmary to find the unapproachable, beautiful girl in laces and ruffles sitting in front of her. Kazuya was there too, pushing her beautiful little head down.


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re up,¡± Kazuya said, and pushed the terrifying girl¡¯s head even harder. ¡°Go on, Victorique.¡±


    ¡°I will not apologize,¡± she replied in the same husky voice.


    Avril was again surprised to learn that the grim, low voice, which sounded as if it came from the depths of the earth, undoubtedly belonged to Victorique de Blois.


    ¡°I said I won¡¯t apologize, and that¡¯s that. This woman called me a monster. But I am definitely not a monster.¡±


    ¡°She knows that. I¡¯m sure she was just teasing you.¡±


    Avril bolted upright. Standing, she realized just how small Victorique really was.


    ¡°Um, sorry about earlier,¡± Avril said. ¡°I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d get that mad. I¡¯m sorry for what I said.¡±


    Victorique looked at her warily, wearing an odd expression on her face, almost like fear. She was biting her glossy lips with her small pearly teeth.


    ¡°You heard her,¡± Kazuya said. ¡°Let me introduce you two. This is Avril Bradley. She¡¯s a student from England. And Avril, this is Victorique de Blois. Uh, wait a sec. Victorique, did you apologize to Avril yet?¡±


    ¡°I am not apologizing.¡± Victorique looked away.


    ¡°Now, listen here!¡± Kazuya growled.


    Victorique jumped like a scared kitten. Then, with an even deeper frown, she shook her tiny head. Her magnificent golden hair, cascading down to her feet like a golden veil, swayed elegantly.


    ¡°I. Will. Not. Apologize!¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± Kazuya asked.


    Victorique snorted. ¡°Because she is not human. She¡¯s a farting newt. And I will not talk to a newt.¡± She cast her gaze down.


    ¡°What did you say?!¡± Kazuya grabbed her chin with both hands and forced her to look up.


    ¡°Let go of me! How dare you grab my chin!¡± She thrashed around.


    ¡°S-Stop it, Kujou!¡± Avril cut in. ¡°You¡¯re being too rough on her.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just teaching this farting Victorique some manners,¡± Kazuya said in a level voice, still holding Victorique¡¯s chin. ¡°Come on, Victorique. I¡¯m not letting go until you apologize. You won¡¯t be able to eat your macaroons, smoke your pipe, or read your book. Are you okay with that?¡±


    ¡°Get off me! You slow-witted, dumb, rascal!¡±


    ¡°Stop it, Kujou!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to.¡±


    While the three were engaged in a squabble, the door to the infirmary opened.


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    Ms. Cecile stood there, staring at them.

 Volume 4 - CH 2.4

    Kazuya, his hands now off his friend¡¯s chin, a pouting Victorique, a flustered Avril, and Ms. Cecile left the infirmary and headed toward the clock tower.


    As they walked down the path, Kazuya wondered how to explain Victorique to Avril. It was actually the superior intellect of Victorique de Blois, the fairy of the library tower¡ªher Wellspring of Wisdom, specifically¡ªthat solved the case of the Purple Book that involved Avril, who had just arrived from England back then. But Avril wasn¡¯t aware of that. While Kazuya wondered if he should start from the beginning, Avril seemed to be preoccupied with something else and started talking about something that had been bothering her since yesterday.


    ¡°So we were playing with a planchette yesterday in the clock tower, right?¡± she said. ¡°That was actually a ritual to call forth spirits to tell us about the afterlife, and we must never stop halfway. But we let go of the planchette. Then an incident happened afterward. I was thinking that maybe we summoned an evil spirit and it never left.¡±


    ¡°That sounds like something a farting newt would say¡ªblegh.¡±


    Kazuya silenced Victorique with his special move¡ªthe chin grab.


    ¡°Get off me! You¡¯ve been incredibly bold lately!¡±


    ¡°As your dutiful friend, farting Victorique, I¡¯m just teaching you manners. Ouch! Why¡¯d you bite me?!¡±


    Kazuya had forgotten all about the Wellspring of Wisdom. He focused solely on grabbing Victorique by the chin.


    Leaving Kazuya and Victorique alone, Ms. Cecile said, ¡°That¡¯s just an old wives¡¯ tale, Avril.¡±


    ¡°B-But¡­¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not supposed to tell students about things in the past, but since all sorts of mysterious incidents happen in this academy¡­¡±


    Realizing that Ms. Cecile was about to share something important, Kazuya and Victorique stopped squabbling and listened.


    ¡°There¡¯s a reason why I kicked you both out of the clock tower yesterday. It¡¯s actually not the first time that people died in that clock tower under mysterious circumstances.¡±


    ¡°Did someone die like this before?¡± Kazuya asked.


    Ms. Cecile shook her head. ¡°Not just once.¡±


    ¡°What¡ª¡±


    ¡°Five times.¡±


    Kazuya, Victorique, and Avril stopped in their tracks, glanced at each other, then turned their eyes back to Ms. Cecile.


    ¡°It¡¯s been happening since the beginning of the century. The alchemist Leviathan lived there for two years starting in 1897, so the deaths started after he was gone. Anyway, in about twenty years since the beginning of the century, five people have died suspicious deaths in that clockwork room. That¡¯s one every four years. For some reason, they always found themselves in the workshop, not anywhere else in the tower, and like this morning, they always ended up dead with a purple bruise on the index finger of their right hand. The coroner¡¯s findings were always the same: they died from poison injected through their fingers. They had something else in common. They were not students of the academy. They were either new teachers, visitors, trespassing travelers¡ªin other words, outsiders.¡±


    The four left the school building and ambled along the pathway leading to the clock tower. The summer sun was burning stronger now. The flowers in the flowerbeds and the leaves on the trees glittered brightly.


    ¡°I don¡¯t even need to hear about the autopsy results to know. The cause of death was probably poison through his fingertips. The man was poisoned.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s the culprit?¡± Avril asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. But in some of the past cases, the victim died in the clockwork room locked from the inside. This gave birth to the rumor that the clock tower is haunted by the ghost of the alchemist, who reigned over Sauville all those years ago. Of course, it¡¯s just a rumor, but I didn¡¯t want to let my precious students near that place. So I keep the door locked, but from time to time, someone gets curious and opens it. They pry open the locks, or kick in the door.¡±


    Avril turned red and cast her eyes downward.


    Kazuya quickly shifted the subject. ¡°But if I recall correctly, the royal guards attacked the alchemist in the clock tower. Even after getting hit by poisoned arrows, he escaped and his body was never found.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right. They searched the whole campus, the village, and the nearby forests, but couldn¡¯t find him anywhere. Either he died deep in the woods, or¡­¡± Ms. Cecile chuckled. ¡°Legends say he was really immortal, that he took off his mask and robe and fled to a faraway land.¡±


    Up ahead, the red-haired companion of the murdered oriental man passed by. Inspector Blois had suspected him of the murder, but he insisted that he was at the inn the whole time, and unless he could be at two places at the same time, he couldn¡¯t have committed the crime. He wore his hat low and walked with his eyes on the ground, and when he noticed Kazuya and the others, he pulled his hat even lower.


    From the opposite side, a large man who looked to be in his sixties walked along, carrying carpentry tools on his broad shoulders, and passed by the red-haired man.


    ¡°Who¡¯s the big guy?¡± Kazuya asked.


    Ms. Cecile looked across the pathway and nodded. ¡°Ah, he¡¯s a carpenter. He¡¯s been working at the academy for almost twenty years now. I asked him to do some repair work.¡±


    ¡°Wow, he¡¯s been around for a while, huh?¡±


    ¡°Same with the gardener. I think he¡¯s been here longer than the carpenter. Over twenty years, from what I¡¯ve heard.¡±


    The old carpenter turned his gaze to them. Two eyes shone darkly on his wrinkled face.


    Kazuya returned the topic back to the missing masked man. ¡°The alchemist died or disappeared only a little over twenty years ago. If the poison didn¡¯t kill him, and he just took off his mask and robe and escaped, maybe he¡¯s still alive. It¡¯s possible that he didn¡¯t flee the kingdom, and instead is hiding somewhere in the academy. Actually, he doesn¡¯t even need to hide. No one has seen his face, after all. I think it¡¯s more realistic than the whole ghost-killing-people theory.¡±


    ¡°Wrong,¡± Victorique, stroking her chin, interjected. ¡°Leviathan is long dead. He¡¯s just stubbornly hiding that fact.¡±


    ¡°So who¡¯s killing people in the workshop, then? And how are they doing it? Who¡¯s been killing intruders the past twenty years? They ignore students, and only kill suspicious outsiders. Only a living human with a will can do that.¡±


    Victorique fell silent. Kazuya glanced at her face. She was pouting like a child.


    Avril nodded in agreement with Kazuya. ¡°I see. Kujou, you¡¯re so smart!¡±


    Victorique pursed her lips even tighter and kicked a pebble. ¡°If that¡¯s what you think,¡± she spat, ¡°go ahead and search for the living alchemist. I will look for his shriveled corpse. To hell with you.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    The group had just arrived at the clock tower.


    The area around the clock tower was untouched by the light and heat of the summer sun. Creepy cobwebs that looked like burial clothes, and dead branches clawing at the air like blackened skeletons, rustled ominously in the wind.


    Inspector Blois, standing in front of the tower, frowned when he saw Kazuya and his half-sister, Victorique.


    ¡°You don¡¯t see this often,¡± he grumbled.


    When Kazuya saw him this morning, his hair was dancing softly in the wind, but now it was back to its usual drill shape. As they got closer, Kazuya saw Inspector Blois¡¯s head being swarmed by bees, flies, and large butterflies. His two subordinates had unlinked their hands for once, desperately fanning the insects away.


    Avril poked Kazuya and whispered in his ear. ¡°See? I told you he¡¯s weird.¡±


    ¡°I know. This is not the first time.¡±


    Inspector Blois sauntered toward the group, and put his hands on his hips and his right leg in front in a splendid pose.


    ¡°What are you doing here, Ms. Cecile, Kujou, V-Victorique, and you are¡­?¡±


    ¡°My name is Avril Bradley, an international student from England.¡± Avril pointed to the inspector¡¯s head. ¡°Weird.¡±


    ¡°I know that! It¡¯s complicated, out of my control.¡±


    ¡°Why are bugs swarming you?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t have time, so I fixed my hair with sugared water. And then this happened. I¡¯m having a bit of trouble right now.¡±


    Kazuya and Avril exchanged glances.


    Frowning, Inspector Blois started walking down the pathway, moving further and further away from the clock tower.


    A gust blew in front of the clock tower, shaking the dead branches. Students returning to their dormitories stole glances as they passed by. Inspector Blois took out his pipe and ignited it in the most casual way possible. Kazuya found his behavior suspicious.


    ¡°Excuse me, Inspector,¡± Kazuya said, walking up to the man.


    The inspector wearily turned around. ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°You look so¡­ relaxed. I thought you would go to the library to find out what happened, so I waited for a while, but there was no sign of you coming at all. And now you¡¯re just standing there smoking a pipe. It doesn¡¯t look like you¡¯re investigating the clock tower at all.¡±


    ¡°I was doing just that earlier.¡±


    ¡°If you were, you wouldn¡¯t have had time to fix your hair.¡±


    ¡°Ahem¡­¡± The inspector started fidgeting, changing poses several times, and adjusting his hair. ¡°If this happened in the village, I would go all out,¡± he said with a sigh. ¡°Unfortunately, this happened on St. Marguerite Academy¡¯s campus. I don¡¯t want to dig into this school¡¯s past.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean by that?¡±


    When the inspector was sure that the others were not listening, he whispered, ¡°Listen. St. Marguerite Academy only began accepting international students such as yourself several years ago. For hundreds of years before that, the school was kept secret and off-limits to outsiders. Do you know why?¡±


    ¡°No¡­¡±


    ¡°A handful of Europe¡¯s dark history lie dormant here, and they must not be awakened. The government wants to keep it that way. It is said that for centuries after the Middle Ages, St. Marguerite Academy served as a front for the secret royal armory. Once it sheltered French aristocrats fleeing the Revolution and Protestants persecuted by Catholics. Newly-developed weapons of the future were also hidden here. Characters who should¡¯ve died lived the rest of their lives here. Do you understand? Such things must never see the light of the day. It will affect our current diplomatic relations. The academy has silently swallowed up many a horrible secrets, life, and death, with its big mouth.¡±


    Kazuya studied Inspector Blois¡¯ face with surprise. For once, he was actually serious.


    The scorching summer sun beat down mercilessly on the two men. Inspector Blois¡¯s drill-shaped hair gleamed. The heat had caused the sugar water to melt.


    Lifting his droopy hair with both hands, Inspector Blois continued. ¡°Of course, those things happened a long time ago. After the Great War, the culture of secrecy was abolished, and international students like you are welcomed with open arms. But make no mistake. Those distant nightmares occasionally wake up from their dark slumber and cause mischief. They become the horror stories that pervade the school, luring boys and girls living in the present day back to the unknown.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­¡±


    ¡°As such, I don¡¯t really want to investigate this case. I don¡¯t care if it stays cold. If I don¡¯t learn anything by the end of the day, I¡¯m leaving.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡± Kazuya refused to back down.


    The carpenter from earlier crossed their vision again. He walked slowly with his heavy-looking carpentry tools slung over his shoulder.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t the first time this happened, right?¡± Kazuya said eagerly. ¡°If someone¡ªfor example, the alchemist who¡¯s supposed to be dead or his descendant¡ªis lurking in the clock tower and continues to kill, you can¡¯t just ignore them. What if more people die in the future?¡±


    The inspector did not answer.


    The wind blew, shaking the dead branches and the tip of the inspector¡¯s hair.

 Volume 4 - CH 2.5

    When Kazuya returned to the group looking disgruntled, Avril was enthusiastically explaining her ghost theory.


    ¡°There was no one else in the room, and it was locked from inside. It has to be a ghost.¡±


    ¡°Stop talking about ghosts, please,¡± Ms. Cecile said, removing her glasses. ¡°I can¡¯t handle it.¡±


    Avril, seeing Kazuya return, became more eager. ¡°Why don¡¯t we all go down to the village to gather information? Like rumors about the clock tower, and info about the victim.¡±


    Kazuya was hesitant at first, but when he realized that there was no stopping Avril when she was this enthusiastic, he reluctantly agreed.


    ¡°I guess it¡¯s fine,¡± he said.


    Avril nodded happily, then turned to Victorique. ¡°Come with us, Victorique,¡± she said brightly.


    Kazuya and Ms. Cecile exchanged looks.


    Victorique let out a small gasp.


    For reasons unknown, Victorique de Blois, born to Marquis de Blois and a mysterious dancer, was confined at St. Marguerite Academy and was not allowed to go outside without permission. Avril, of course, was unaware of this.


    Victorique studied Avril¡¯s smile for a while. She looked sad.


    Suddenly, an expression of irritation and anger flashed across Victorique¡¯s ruthless, yet stunningly beautiful face.


    She looked away. ¡°I¡¯m not going.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Avril replied, disappointed.


    Sensing the gloomy atmosphere, Kazuya attempted to cut in, but before he could speak to cover for Victorique, she went on, annoyed.


    ¡°Go with Kujou wherever you want. They say that two heads are better than one, but not when those heads belong to morons. Go ahead and waste your time, farting newt.¡±


    Avril, shocked by the tongue-lashing, just stared vacantly at the tiny girl.


    ¡°Victorique!¡± Kazuya snapped, grabbing her little chin.


    This time, Victorique didn¡¯t fight back. When Kazuya peered into her small face, she stared back at him, stubbornly biting her lip.


    Kazuya gave up and removed his hand from her face. ¡°What in the world is wrong with you today? Avril might have called you a monster first, but she apologized and never said it again. But you keep calling her a farting newt. What¡¯s the matter with you?¡±


    Victorique¡¯s emerald eyes widened to their fullest at Kazuya¡¯s enraged expression. A single pearl of tear, which Kazuya failed to notice, formed in the corner of her eye.


    ¡°You haven¡¯t apologized even once,¡± he went on. ¡°It¡¯s just wrong. Come on, now. Apologize to Avril.¡±


    ¡°¡­way.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°No way!¡± Victorique shouted.


    Avril quickly stepped in between the two. ¡°It¡¯s okay, Kujou. I¡¯m not that mad about it.¡±


    ¡°Stay out of this, Avril,¡± Kazuya said. ¡°Victorique, I thought you were nicer than this. You¡¯re always mean, cold, and unapproachable, but when I¡¯m in trouble, you always help me out. But something¡¯s wrong with you today. Talk to me. You¡¯re my closest friend.¡±


    Avril froze at Kazuya¡¯s last words. Her face, always so bright and cheerful, clouded over. Upset, she kicked a fist-sized stone that was lying by her feet. Then, she picked it up, grumbling as she tossed it back and forth between her hands.


    ¡°Closest friend¡­ Closest friend¡­ I see, it¡¯s not me. Okay¡­¡±


    She put the stone on top of her head and started rocking from side to side.


    ¡°Farting Kujou!¡± she mumbled with a frown.


    Kazuya turned around. He looked at Avril¡¯s face and then the stone sitting on her head.


    Come to think of it, she sometimes puts random stuff on her head.


    Avril continued rocking.


    A dry summer breeze blew past.


    Kazuya snapped back to his senses and turned to Victorique, who remained silent, looking even more stubborn than before.


    ¡°Victorique, do you understand what I¡¯m trying to say?¡± Kazuya said in an exasperated tone.


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Hey, Victorique. Say something, will you? Darn it¡­¡±


    Victorique hung her head lower and lower. Kazuya studied her curiously, but anger slowly rose within him.


    ¡°Okay, fine. If that¡¯s how you want to act, so be it. We¡¯re done!¡±


    Victorique swallowed and lifted her head a little. No one noticed the flicker of sadness in her eyes.


    Kazuya¡¯s stubborn nature had reared its head. He turned his back to Victorique and walked away. Avril was quite literally stunned. She had never seen Kazuya Kujou angry before. She immediately removed the stone from her head. Ms. Cecile had taken off her glasses.


    Avril glanced at Kazuya and then at Victorique, who was still looking downward. She tossed the stone aside and followed Kazuya as he hurried away.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t we have a competition?¡± Avril said. ¡°You and I will go to the village to gather information. And Victorique, uhh, will check the clock tower with Ms. Cecile. We¡¯ll meet around here at noon and have lunch together, then battle it out. Who can solve the alchemist¡¯s mystery first?¡±


    Kazuya looked over his shoulder. ¡°You can¡¯t win against Victorique,¡± he said flatly.


    Avril, who¡¯d only witnessed Victorique¡¯s beauty and not her brain, shot Victorique a curious look.


    ¡°Really? N-No way. We never know. All right, then. We¡¯ll meet back here at noon.¡± Avril said cheerfully and started running after Kazuya.


    While heading for the main gate, she turned around to see Victorique standing alone in the middle of the pathway, staring at Kazuya.


    Her cherry lips trembled. She tried to say something, but the words wouldn¡¯t come out.


    Victorique looked so small and lonely that Avril could not bring herself to leave her behind. She turned to Kazuya, but he just kept walking. Troubled and confused, Avril ran back to the terrifying, sharp-tongued, but beautiful girl in frills and laces.


    ¡°D-Do you want to come with us?¡± Avril asked.


    Victorique did not answer. She raised her head a little, and opened her lips as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, said nothing. She simply shook her head, slowly, sullenly.


    ¡°Okay¡­ See you later, then.¡±


    Avril took off once more.


    Kazuya, and then Avril, walked out of the campus through the main gate. Victorique stood there for a long time, watching them go, a tiny, lonely figure.


    Suddenly, Victorique kicked a pebble and tried to run after them. Ruffles bouncing, she only managed a few steps before someone grabbed her by the scruff of her neck.


    She was hoisted up like a kitten, and returned back to her spot. Victorique looked up with teary eyes, and there stood Inspector Blois, his drill-shaped hair sagging.


    He regarded Victorique sternly.


    ¡°You can¡¯t go.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°Do not go outside. You, too, are a piece of Europe¡¯s dark history. You are not allowed to take even one step out of this place. You¡¯re different from those carefree students.¡±


    ¡°I know that. So keep your mouth shut, pinhead!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the one who made it like this!¡±


    Victorique stayed silent. Suddenly, she spun and started running toward the clock tower. A moment later, her small, slender legs got tangled and she tumbled.


    She let out a groan as she fell flat on the ground. Layers of ruffles billowed.


    Victorique remained still for a while, bearing the pain. Then, she sprang up and began dusting off the dirt from her face, hair, and hands.


    She sobbed faintly. ¡°Stupid Kujou,¡± she mumbled. ¡°He didn¡¯t have to get so angry. Meanie,¡± she said in between sobs.


    Victorique slowly stood up. With Kazuya gone, she fixed her dress herself, then walked slowly this time.


    She heard footsteps following her behind. Loud footsteps produced by long strides. It stopped behind Victorique.


    It was Inspector Blois. He looked serious.


    ¡°And how are you involved in this case?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Are you curious?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± Inspector Blois nodded grimly. ¡°Those two¡­ No. Just the English student. I can tell that she finds this case amusing. What I don¡¯t understand is you. Why did you come all the way down from the library? Is there something more to this case? What are you plotting?¡±


    Victorique snorted. ¡°The alchemist Leviathan challenged me.¡± She held out a golden book.


    Inspector Blois flipped through its pop-up pages and scoffed. ¡°A memoir of the dead, huh? Hmm¡­ As you may know, my dear half-sister, this man must be kept locked in the dark. Whatever powers he may have had, whatever plans he may have formulated, all of that are gone, buried along with the rest of Europe¡¯s dark history. For the sake of the Kingdom of Sauville, for the sake of the king and queen. And of course, for the sake of the Blois family.¡±


    ¡°I understand,¡± Victorique replied curtly.


    She resumed walking, but the inspector blocked her path.


    ¡°Do you really understand, though? If you do, don¡¯t pursue this case¡ª¡±


    ¡°Grevil,¡± Victorique muttered in her husky voice.


    Her eyes were completely different from those of the little helpless girl who, just a few moments before, had been upset at her friend. They were dark and deep, like the eyes of a hundred-year-old man. They were mysterious, bottomless green pools.


    ¡°The truth is, I¡¯m very bored. Do you understand, Grevil? My foolish half-brother. My father, terrified of me, tossed me in here. I cannot leave. So here I am, drifting in an abyss of boredom, a fate worse than death. I have reached my limit.¡±


    Victorique turned her back to her brother and walked away, ruffles flaring behind.


    ¡°I may not be able to step outside, but this academy is enough. Fragments of chaos await me. I will solve the mystery of the Leviathan, Grevil, to stave off my boredom.¡±


    ¡°No one dies, understand?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. No one will. I¡¯m just shining a little bit of light into the abyss.¡±


    Victorique moved further and further away.


    Inspector Blois stood still, glowering at her.

 Volume 4 - CH 3.1

    African Song


    Africans say,


    March, march I say!


    Till the hens sing!


    Till the stars fall from the torn roof!


    Du da du da doo¡­


    Even in dreams


    March, march I say!


    Du da du da doo¡­


    From afar, the Africans came.


    They walked, and walked, all the way.


    Walk, walk I say!


    Du da du da doo¡­


    Africans came from across the sea.


    They rowed their boats, rowed their boats, all the way.


    Row, row I say!


    Pretty sisters, mother, and father!


    Flesh and blood is cheap, bread is expensive, but keep on rowing!


    Du da du da doo¡­


    Gold and black skin


    Row, row I say!


    Du da du da doo¡­


    The Africans leapt over the scorching land,


    screamed, and disappeared.


    Chapter 3: Monstre Charmant


    The village streets were bustling with people. A woman was carrying a shopping basket with a long loaf of bread sticking out of it, and a young man was pulling a cart loaded with vegetables. A wagon pulled by a long-haired horse lumbered along the street, loaded with straw that smelled of the distinctive sweet and sour fragrance of summer.


    Tangled vines and red geraniums hanging from wooden-framed houses glistened in the summer sun.


    Kazuya and Avril were walking at a brisk pace along the busy street.


    ¡°You¡¯re unbelievable,¡± Avril mumbled.


    Kazuya lifted his head. ¡°Did you say something?¡±


    ¡°No¡­ Actually, I did. I said you¡¯re unbelievable. And I was going to say you can be childish too.¡±


    ¡°Me? Childish?¡± Kazuya stopped in his tracks.


    Avril¡¯s lively and pretty face looked a bit downcast.


    ¡°Where¡¯d this come from?¡± Kazuya asked, a little uneasy, ¡°I am not childish. I may be a little stubborn, but that¡¯s it. I care about what¡¯s right, and¡ª¡±


    ¡°She looked like she was about to cry.¡±


    ¡°What I¡¯m saying is¡ªWait, really?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Her face was all red, and her lips were quivering.¡±


    ¡°I-I see¡­¡±


    Kazuya swallowed the words he was about to say and wore a thoughtful look. ¡°Do you think I went too far?¡± he asked as they resumed walking. ¡°Maybe I hurt her feelings by calling her a bully.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t ask me.¡± Avril turned away. ¡°You never get mad at me like that even when I annoy you. You just shrink back and act nice. But with Victorique, you don¡¯t hold back. You must be very close.¡±


    Kazuya, pondering about Victorique, gave Avril a hesitant look. ¡°That¡¯s because you¡¯re honest and open. You¡¯re not mean to me.¡±


    Avril was still not convinced.


    Soon they arrived at a cemetery on the outskirts of the village, situated in low ground, where entangled branches of dead trees occasionally shook in the damp wind. It was a little cooler here, the air humid, and the area shadowy and chilly.


    White crosses were sticking out at an angle from the soft black earth. Kazuya and Avril held hands and slowly stepped through the fence.


    ¡°Wh-Which one is it?¡± Avril asked.


    ¡°Just check the epitaphs.¡±


    ¡°R-Right.¡±


    Kazuya and Avril were looking for the graves of outsiders in the village cemetery. Graves of non-villagers who died in the last twenty years. Kazuya thought that if there were any, they had to belong to the ones who died in the clock tower, and might be able to provide clues to the current case.


    Kazuya did not really care about the competition, but when he arrived at the village, his earnest nature made him offer this logical suggestion. Avril gladly agreed with him.


    They wandered the cemetery, searching for the graves of the clock tower victims. The damp, black dirt stained the tips of their shoes. Avril stopped in front of an old, large grave and began reading the epitaph.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­ It¡¯s so old I can¡¯t read it,¡± she said. ¡°There are a lot of names on it. About twenty of them. Does that mean they were buried together?¡±


    ¡°Five hundred years ago,¡± said a voice that did not belong to Kazuya.


    Avril jumped with a yelp. She turned around and saw a man in his sixties with graying hair. He had a stooped back and dark skin like tanned leather. He was leaning against a large broom stuck in the ground, staring at them.


    ¡°Wh-Who are you?¡±


    ¡°That right there is a Protestant grave,¡± the old man said. ¡°They died together in this village five hundred years ago. We buried them ourselves. So what are you two doing here?¡±


    Kazuya and Avril looked at each other. When they told him that they were looking for the graves of those who died in the clock tower, the gravekeeper laughed.


    ¡°You won¡¯t find them here. Sure, there were several deaths in the clock tower, but they were all outsiders. They must have been buried in their respective hometowns. As far as I know, only villagers are buried here.¡±


    Kazuya and Avril exchanged disappointed glances.


    The gravekeeper laughed even harder. ¡°You¡¯re students of that school by the mountains, right? Every summer, you kids wander around in the cemetery with your tests of courage and what not. Now, did you come here to listen to some ghost stories?¡±


    ¡°Not really,¡± Kazuya said. ¡°Let¡¯s go, Avril. Might be better to check out other places.¡± He thanked the gravedigger and started walking.


    When he made it to the fence, he noticed that Avril was not following him. He turned around, a knot in his gut, and sure enough, Avril was sitting right in front of the Protestants¡¯ grave, listening closely to the gravekeeper¡¯s story.


    The wind carried the old man¡¯s voice toward Kazuya.


    ¡°It happened about fifty years ago. I was only a child then. My father was a gravekeeper. One night, while I was helping him with his work, staying up late at night in this cemetery, I¡­¡±


    ¡°You what?¡± Avril leaned forward.


    Kazuya sighed and went back into the cemetery.


    ¡°Stay calm now,¡± the gravekeeper said. ¡°I saw an invisible ghost!¡±


    ¡°Kyaaa! Wait, what do you mean you saw something invisible?¡±


    ¡°Take a look at the soil around here. It¡¯s soft and damp.¡±


    The gravedigger pointed at his feet. Avril gulped as she studied the ground. Before Kazuya could say anything, he noticed Avril¡¯s serious expression and closed his mouth. Heaving a sigh, he sat down next to her.


    ¡°I was only a child, but I know what I saw. I will never forget it. An invisible ghost ran through this empty cemetery at night. It was a child. A child about my age.¡±


    ¡°How do you know?¡±


    ¡°By the size of their feet. Footsteps came from over there.¡± The gravedigger pointed deeper into the cemetery, where thick, dark trees swayed in the breeze. ¡°Then passed by me in an instant. I smelled dirt. There was no one there, but I knew it was an invisible child that had run past me. They left behind their footsteps¡­ Boo!¡±


    Avril let out a shriek and clung to Kazuya.


    ¡°Please don¡¯t shout,¡± Kazuya said. ¡°Your screams are much scarier than the actual stories.¡±


    Kazuya jumped off the Protestant grave.


    ¡°I still have another story,¡± the gravekeeper said.


    Avril began stomping her feet, eager to hear about it.


    ¡°It¡¯s almost noon,¡± Kazuya admonished. ¡°Did you already forget why we came here? You¡¯re the one who proposed the competition. Just putting it out there, Victorique is incredibly smart. You won¡¯t win if you take it easy.¡±


    Avril reluctantly jumped off the grave. Kazuya hurried away, while she walked slowly. The soft and damp soil had stained the tips of her shoes an ominous black.


    A raven streaked across the sky. It swooped down from over their heads, perched on a white cross, and let out a mournful cry. The cross rocked softly with the raven¡¯s movement.


    Clouds drifted in, blotting out the sun and blanketing the cemetery in shadows.


    Meanwhile, the Princess left behind in St. Marguerite Academy¡­


    Stretching across the campus was a French-style garden, the area close to the school building and dormitories laid out with grass, pebbled pathways, iron benches, and flowerbeds filled with colorful flowers. As one moved further away, the design changed to resemble natural mountains and fields.


    There was a small stream, a corner with a handful of trees where the air was damp, and a pleasant gazebo situated atop a sunny incline.


    A couple of squirrels were scuttling up and down Victorique de Blois¡¯ knees as she was sitting down by the stream. The little critters had mistaken Victorique, deep in thought and completely still, for some doll or statue. Two squirrels stood on her lap and started playing with each other.


    Still, Victorique didn¡¯t move. Her dress was spread wide around her like a frilly umbrella.


    She let out a groan. The squirrels looked at her momentarily, then returned to messing with each other as if nothing happened.


    Victorique continued staying still.


    After some time, Ms. Cecile came strolling along the pathway, climbing up a small hill and down again, listening to the murmur of the stream, until she came to where the little Victorique was sitting.


    ¡°Victorique¡­?¡± she called.


    Victorique groaned.


    ¡°Hmm?¡±


    Ms. Cecile peeked in from behind.


    A golden book lay open on Victorique¡¯s lap, from where a tiny man in a mask and robe was staring at her. Victorique, head tilted, was glaring at the masked man, grumbling.


    A number of squirrels were frolicking on Victorique¡¯s head, shoulders, back, and small feet, scuttling around then suddenly stopping. Victorique may or may not have noticed them. She was focused solely on the memoir before her.


    ¡°What an odd man,¡± she mumbled.


    ¡°Who?¡± Ms. Cecile asked.


    Victorique turned around grumpily. Startled by Ms. Cecile, the squirrels jumped, climbed down Victorique and scurried back into the woods.


    ¡°Oh, dear. The squirrels don¡¯t like me,¡± the teacher said.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s just you.¡±


    Ms. Cecile handed Victorique something she was holding. A frilly parasol. Victorique just snorted without taking it, so Ms. Cecile opened it and held it over Victorique¡¯s head.


    Ms. Cecile looked at Victorique from above, at the golden book on her lap. ¡°What a weird book!¡± she exclaimed. ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°The alchemist¡¯s memoir.¡±


    ¡°Oh, my.¡±


    Victorique scoffed in response.


    Ever since Ms. Cecile accepted the task of looking after this Gray Wolf Victorique, she had managed to survive spending time with her without incident, simply because she never expressed any interest in unusual happenings, or even when Victorique was behaving extremely suspiciously or too smart.


    And today as well, Ms. Cecile appeared unconcerned about Victorique¡¯s grumpy behavior.


    ¡°Quite the mysterious man, huh?¡± she said. ¡°I used to hear a lot of stories about Leviathan when I was a student here. A weird mask and a robe¡­ What was he hiding under the mask? An eternal mystery now that he¡¯s gone.¡±


    ¡°That one¡¯s easy, Cecile,¡± Victorique said in a voice that seemed to belong to the elderly.


    Ms. Cecile stared at her devilish grin for a while, then chuckled and pinched Victorique¡¯s small, shapely nose.


    ¡°Hngh? What are you doing?!¡±


    ¡°Oh, you cheeky, bossy little girl,¡± Ms. Cecile said in a singsong tone.


    ¡°Stop singing!¡± Victorique snapped. ¡°And get your hands off me. Why is everyone touching me today?!¡± She stood up and walked away.


    ¡°Who touched her?¡± Ms. Cecile wondered. ¡°Ah, don¡¯t step on the violets!¡±


    Victorique jumped. ¡°Kujou poked my cheek this morning. Then that farting newt pulled my hair in the classroom. And now you pinched my nose!¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°All you ever do is say ¡®Oh, my¡¯ or ¡®Hmm¡¯. You don¡¯t actually pay attention to what I say, do you?¡±


    Ms. Cecile trotted up to Victorique, tilting her head, wondering how the girl found out.


    When she saw that Victorique was heading somewhere, she called, ¡°Victorique. Where do we start looking?¡±


    ¡°¡­Look for what?¡± Victorique asked curiously.


    ¡°It¡¯s a competition, right?¡±


    ¡°Are you talking about the farting newt¡¯s suggestion? Was she actually serious?¡±


    ¡°Of course. And I¡¯m serious about it too.¡±


    Victorique gave a tired moan, but Ms. Cecile paid her no mind and pointed to the clock tower in the distance enthusiastically.


    ¡°I was thinking, since we¡¯re in the academy¡­¡±


    ¡°And I can¡¯t go out.¡±


    ¡°Y-Yeah¡­ So why don¡¯t we do a thorough search inside the clock tower? Let¡¯s go.¡±


    ¡°The clock tower?¡±


    Victorique sniffed audibly as she made it off the lawn and onto the pathway. Flowers were blooming radiantly on either side, swaying rhythmically in the dry summer breeze.


    Victorique continued walking, her dress bouncing with each step.


    ¡°I am indeed trying to solve the mystery of the Leviathan, and my Wellspring of Wisdom tells me that I can do so without ever leaving this academy. Therefore, I have no objection to investigating the clock tower. However¡­¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t examine the clock tower with a scaredy-cat like you around.¡±


    ¡°What?! I-I¡¯m not a scaredy-cat!¡± Ms. Cecile stammered. ¡°I swear. I¡¯m just easily frightened.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s exactly the definition of a scaredy-cat, Cecile. You just admitted it yourself.¡±


    Victorique took a ceramic pipe from the pocket of her dress and put it in her cherry lips, but before she could light it, Ms. Cecile snatched it away.


    ¡°What are you doing?!¡± Victorique yelped.


    ¡°Smoking is prohibited inside the academy. I¡¯m confiscating this.¡±


    ¡°Give it back, or I¡¯m going to suffer from withdrawal!¡±


    ¡°No, you won¡¯t. I know you¡¯re just pretending to be a grownup, smoking this thing. Watch me put it in my mouth, light it up, and¡ª¡± She coughed.


    ¡°Give it back.¡±


    Victorique took the pipe back from Ms. Cecile, who was having a coughing fit, tears in her eyes. She smoked a few puffs as she neared the clock tower.


    Ms. Cecile followed close behind, still coughing and wiping away tears.

 Volume 4 - CH 3.2

    There was no longer any sign of Inspector Blois and his detectives in the clock tower.


    The huge, old carpenter lumbered across the pathway, carrying his carpentry tools on his back.


    The door to the clock tower was blocked with a rope to forbid entry, but both Victorique and Ms. Cecile were able to get in just by bending down a little.


    They walked at a leisurely pace, down the humid and darkly-lit hallway. They were a little tense, feeling some strange presence. A sense of vertigo washed over them. It felt as if space itself was distorted, as if their heads were being squeezed tight by some unseen hands.


    They found the stairs and climbed up. Victorique took careful steps. Ms. Cecile, on the other hand, in an attempt to quickly ascend the stairs, stumbled and fell all the way down with a shriek.


    Victorique paid the teacher no heed. Ms. Cecile quickly followed her.


    Victorique stopped by a small window right before the room with the clockworks. Ms. Cecile also studied the window. A shadow zipped past outside, and she screamed.


    ¡°Keep it down, Cecile.¡±


    ¡°B-But we¡¯re on the second floor. How could there be someone outside the window? Are they extremely tall? About three meters? There¡¯s no one like that in this school. They must have been floating in the air.¡±


    Victorique left Ms. Cecile alone and reached for the door to the room with the clockworks.


    ¡°I believe floating people are commonly referred to as ghosts,¡± Ms. Cecile said, removing her round glasses with trembling hands.


    ¡°Ahuh.¡± Victorique opened the door.


    ¡°Please talk to me! I¡¯m scared!¡± Ms. Cecile looked around the corridor. ¡°Don¡¯t leave me alone!¡±


    ¡°Scaredy little wimp.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a wimp! I¡¯m a teacher, and that means I¡¯m more dependable than my students, or I wouldn¡¯t be able to guide them.¡± She followed after Victorique, using the color white and pink as a guide.


    The eerie sound of the clockworks echoed low throughout the room.


    Round machines, of different sizes but all incredibly huge, were turning slowly, gears meshing with each other. Overhead was a high ceiling shrouded in darkness, from which a pendulum rhythmically swung side to side, cutting through the air, producing a cold, sinister draft that caressed the cheeks.


    Victorique and Ms. Cecile looked around the room, at the workshop of the mysterious masked alchemist, who once held the kingdom of Sauville in the palm of his hands.


    The ebony table, thick with dust, was still littered with lab equipment. On the wall beyond the table was a bright stained-glass window of unusual design, depicting a garden full of purple and yellow flowers. One red flower bloomed in the middle.


    Ms. Cecile had placed her glasses on a nearby old chair. She glanced around, but she couldn¡¯t see well, so she reached for her glasses again.


    Clink!


    The glasses fell off the chair and rolled on the floor without anyone touching them.


    Ms. Cecile shuddered, as if a cold hand had seized her heart. She crouched down, picked up her glasses, and looked for Victorique.


    But before she could call for the girl, she sensed something unseen strode across the room. The invisible apparition dropped Ms. Cecile¡¯s glasses on the floor as it passed in front of her.


    The floor creaked, as though someone was walking.


    And the door, which should have been closed, opened without a sound.


    The unseen had left the workshop.


    Ms. Cecile let out a scream.


    Victorique jumped. ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡± she asked in her husky voice.


    Ms. Cecile, completely forgetting her role as a teacher, stomped her feet in panic, and with incredible speed, bolted out of the workshop, across the hallway, and tumbled down the stairs.


    She thought she passed someone on the stairs, a handsome guy with red hair peeking out of his hat, but she wasn¡¯t quite sure.


    Screaming at the top of her lungs, she dashed out of the clock tower through the rope, and far, far across the lawn.


    Meanwhile¡­


    Kazuya left the cemetery with steady steps and a straight back, and Avril reluctantly followed him. She suggested a number of times to stay a little longer, but Kazuya shook his head firmly.


    Breathing a sigh, Avril gave up and left the shadowy, fenced cemetery.


    Just then, a young woman was walking toward the cemetery from the village. The bouquet of flowers in her hands indicated she was visiting someone¡¯s grave.


    The young woman was singing in a slightly alluring voice.


    Africans say,


    March, march I say!


    Till the hens sing!


    Till the stars fall from the torn roof!


    Du da du da doo¡­


    Even in dreams


    March, march I say!


    Du da du da doo¡­


    The woman began skipping as she hummed, getting into the song. Even Avril, who was walking next to Kazuya, started rocking her body side to side.


    The woman had long, reddish frizzy hair and a voluptuous body. Tall, she looked good in her red dress that matched the color of her hair. And her chiseled, striking features¡­


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    Kazuya stared at the woman. He thought she looked familiar. Noticing his gaze, the woman stopped.


    ¡°Oh, Kujou! What are you up to?¡±


    It was the sexy, red-haired dorm mother that Kazuya met every morning in the dormitory cafeteria. She was holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other.


    ¡°Oh, I see you¡¯re with a girl. Are you on a date, then? In a cemetery?¡±


    ¡°N-No, we¡¯re not. We¡¯re looking into the incident at the clock tower. What about you?¡±


    ¡°My parents are buried here. I come here whenever I feel like it. Oh, hello, gravekeeper. Thanks as always.¡±


    The dorm mother placed the bouquet of flowers on a new grave at the very front of the cemetery. She began mumbling something. Perhaps she was talking to her deceased parents.


    Kazuya started walking, but then stopped. ¡°Hey, Avril,¡± he called. ¡°Have you heard that song before? The one the dorm mother was singing just now?¡±


    Avril cocked her head. ¡°A couple of times, yeah. When I was shopping in the village, the lady at the cash register was singing it. What about you?¡±


    ¡°I heard a man on a wagon singing it while I was walking down the street. Is it a popular song? But you don¡¯t really hear it outside the village. What a weird song!¡±


    ¡°True¡­¡±


    Kazuya and Avril looked at each other.


    ¡°Hmm¡­ I¡¯m pretty sure the word gold appears somewhere in the second or third verse of the song¡­¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Avril cocked her head, then started singing slowly to remember the lyrics.


    Pretty sisters, mother, and father!


    Flesh and blood is cheap, bread is expensive, but keep on rowing!


    Du da du da doo¡­


    Gold and black skin


    Row, row I say!


    Du da du da doo¡­


    When she finished singing, they glanced at each other. The dorm mother, having finished her mumbling, chimed in with a cigarette in her mouth.


    ¡°This song has been around since I was a kid,¡± she said. ¡°During autumn, we would sing it together while harvesting grapes. You don¡¯t know about it?¡±


    ¡°Not really¡­¡±


    ¡°My mom told me that there used to be a lot of Africans around, but they all died at once from an epidemic or something. The song was inspired by them. Do you know about it, gravekeeper?¡±


    The old gravekeeper, squatting and pulling weeds, looked up. ¡°Huh?¡± He looked confused at first, but eventually remembered. ¡°Ah, yes. It¡¯s been so long that I¡¯d forgotten about it. If I recall, that was at the end of 1873.¡±


    ¡°You just said you forgot about it, but that¡¯s an awfully specific date,¡± Kazuya remarked.


    ¡°That¡¯s because something huge happened at the beginning of the next year that I¡¯ll never forget. The old king of Sauville passed away and the young Crown Prince succeeded him as king. The whole kingdom was in mourning for his death, and there were many festivities afterward to celebrate the succession of the new king. The king¡¯s death was so sudden that it created a huge fuss. That¡¯s why I remember the exact year. The former king died in the beginning of 1874, and at the end of the previous year, seven or eight Africans died and were buried there.¡± The gravedigger pointed to a corner of the cemetery.


    Kazuya and Avril looked around and found a large burial mound under the dark shade of tangled dead branches. There was no cross or anything, just a small hill where the Africans were apparently buried.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how they ended up in the village or why they died,¡± the gravekeeper said. ¡°Maybe I just forgot¡­ Anyway, all the young Africans died, so we had no choice but to dig a hole and bury them. No proper graves or anything, though.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­¡± Kazuya nodded. ¡°It¡¯s a song about those Africans. What does it mean, though?¡±


    ¡°Who knows? I have no idea,¡± the old man said. ¡°Are you leaving?¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes. Thank you very much.¡±


    Kazuya bowed and was about to leave the cemetery with Avril, when the gravedigger said, ¡°There¡¯s a famous ghost story about the Protestants¡¯ grave as well, but I suppose you¡¯re not interested.¡±


    ¡°No. We¡¯ve got to go¡­ Hey, Avril! Come back! What about your match with Victorique? We¡¯re running out of time!¡±


    Not lending Kazuya an ear, Avril tottered back to the gravedigger, like a moth drawn to a flame.

 Volume 4 - CH 3.3

    Back at St. Marguerite Academy¡¯s clock tower¡­


    ¡°C-Cecile?¡±


    Victorique watched as her teacher, screaming out of the blue, dashed out of the room and tumbled down the stairs.


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter with you?¡±


    There was no answer.


    She heard a man¡¯s surprised grunt from around the stairs.


    As the teacher ran past, the man asked if there was something wrong, but she rolled down the stairs, and her scream faded into the distance.


    Victorique was left alone in the clockwork room. Blinking repeatedly, she picked up Ms. Cecile¡¯s glasses.


    ¡°You forgot your glasses,¡± she murmured.


    As Victorique smoked her pipe, deep in thought, a figure entered through the open door.


    Victorique turned around and saw a tall, beautiful man. He was wearing his hat low, and sported fiery-red hair. It was hard to determine his age and nationality. He exuded a somewhat exotic, wild aura.


    The moment his green, upturned eyes fell on Victorique, she felt a chill. She slowly retreated a few steps.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± she asked.


    ¡°A traveler searching for something,¡± the man replied in a deep voice, and grinned. His smile, animalistic and ferocious, seemed to split his mouth open all the way to his ears.


    ¡°Searching for what?¡± Victorique backed away some more.


    ¡°Something in this academy.¡±


    ¡°There are no lost items here.¡±


    ¡°Oh, but there is.¡± The man smiled thinly. ¡°A monstre charmant.¡±


    His rumbling voice reverberated throughout the room. Beads of sweat formed on Victorique¡¯s forehead, and her fingertips turned cold as a dead man¡¯s. But her expression remained still.


    ¡°That red hair,¡± she mumbled. ¡°I see. You were the one with Grevil earlier.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± The man gave a small nod. ¡°The oriental man who died here this morning was with me. His name was Wong Kai. Have you heard of him?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    Suddenly the man, as if to get rid of the dreadful atmosphere, presented something to Victorique. It was a rolled-up poster. Victorique slowly reached out her hand, took it, and unfolded it.


    It was a poster of an oriental man dressed in Western clothing, sporting a long mustache and donning a silk hat. Creepy images adorned it, including a skeleton floating in midair and a gentleman placing his own head on his lap.


    The words said: The Illusion of the Century! Wong Kai¡¯s Great Magic!


    ¡°Wong was a friend of mine,¡± the man continued. ¡°He was an up-and-coming magician in Saubreme. He really liked the movie The Illusion of the Black Tower. He wanted to see if he could use the setting for his magic trick, so he snuck into the school¡¯s clock tower. Unfortunately, something went wrong.¡±


    The man chuckled. ¡°His death is a huge loss. No point in suspecting me, by the way. Like I told the inspector, I was at the inn at the time he was killed. The innkeeper vouched for me. Unless I was at the inn and at the tower at the same time, I couldn¡¯t have killed him.¡±


    Victorique gave a low groan instead of an answer. She tried to return the poster, but the man shook his head.


    ¡°You can keep it.¡±


    ¡°Are you also a magician?¡± Victorique suddenly asked.


    The man¡¯s composed fa?ade crumbled, and he looked at Victorique in surprise. ¡°How did you know? Do you know me?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Then how?¡±


    Victorique smiled in response, the smile of a cruel old man who had lived for decades. ¡°Because I¡¯m the monstre.¡±


    The man swallowed.


    ¡°A red-haired magician,¡± Victorique said. ¡°If you could be at two places at the same time, then you could have done it. It¡¯s one of a magician¡¯s tricks, after all. But I won¡¯t go into that for now. I know that I¡¯m the one you¡¯re looking for. What are you so surprised about? Did you really think that I wouldn¡¯t notice? It¡¯s true that I can¡¯t step out of this academy. But even without going outside, I can guess who you are simply by gathering the dark fragments of chaos floating in the air and reconstructing them.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no way,¡± the man mumbled fearfully.


    Victorique sneered. ¡°I know your name, the name of the mysterious partner you¡¯ve been with for the last ten years, and your purpose.¡±


    ¡°You monster!¡± the red-haired magician spat.


    Slowly, Victorique moved, drawing closer to the man. Her face was as ruthless and expressionless as a doll. Her mechanical movement made her seem non-human.


    One, two steps¡­


    The clockwork turned and turned. A giant pendulum was swinging idly far above, generating a wind that blew on Victorique¡¯s body-length, golden hair. Victorique approached the man. His face contorted as he retreated a little, but fear had paralyzed his body.


    The lace at the hem of Victorique¡¯s dress would soon reach the man¡¯s shoes.


    The door slammed open. Victorique and the red-haired man jumped and looked at the door.


    There was a huge old man. Standing nearly two meters tall, his features marked him as old, but his body was as solid and muscular as that of a young man.


    It was the carpenter. He looked at the two with surprise.


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± he asked.


    ¡°And who are you?¡± the red-haired man asked back.


    The old man¡¯s face turned grim. ¡°I¡¯m the carpenter. Every building in this school is old. Something somewhere always gets damaged because of the elements. So I¡¯m always doing repairs all-year round. We¡¯re currently discussing with the school administration whether to renovate this clock tower or tear it down. You¡¯re not allowed here without permission. This place is old and crumbling. You don¡¯t want it suddenly collapsing on you.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± the red-haired man mumbled with a frown. He then strode out of the workshop.


    Victorique was about to leave as well, but suddenly stopped. The large old man eyed her suspiciously, then smiled. He looked like a different person now.


    ¡°You look just like my granddaughter,¡± he said. ¡°She¡¯s turning seven this year.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fourteen years old,¡± Victorique huffed.


    ¡°Really? You¡¯re awfully small for a fourteen-year-old,¡± the old man replied bluntly.


    Victorique¡¯s face turned crimson. She turned away and was about to leave the room, but then changed her mind and scuttled back to the old man.


    ¡°Can you look into something for me?¡± she asked.


    The man chuckled. ¡°A little girl talking like an adult. Oh, don¡¯t give me that look. Anyway, it depends. What do you want me to do?¡±


    ¡°I need you to measure the clock tower.¡±


    ¡°¡­Measure the clock tower?¡± The man looked puzzled. ¡°You mean this clockwork room?¡±


    ¡°No. The whole tower itself. Can you do that?¡±


    ¡°I suppose. It¡¯s good to have a blueprint when doing repairs anyway.¡±


    ¡°On one condition.¡± Victorique said in a low voice. ¡°You can measure the clock tower itself as much as you want, but do not touch anything in this room. What I want you to measure is outside this room.¡±


    ¡°Okay. But why?¡±


    ¡°Because it will anger the alchemist.¡±


    ¡°Really? I thought he was no longer around.¡±


    ¡°That is correct. But in a way, he still is.¡±


    ¡°I see. I don¡¯t really get it, but all I have to do is stay away from this room. Got it, little girl.¡±


    Regarding Victorique curiously, the old man nodded.


    Victorique left the clock tower with Ms. Cecile¡¯s glasses in her hand, but instead of returning to the lawn, she circled around the clock tower.


    She walked behind the structure, where dead branches twisted like bones, staring at the ground.


    There were large footprints under the window¡ªshoe prints much larger than a normal human being¡¯s. They must have belonged to someone huge, like the old carpenter.


    Victorique studied the footprints for a while. ¡°I see,¡± she mumbled, nodding to herself.


    She lifted her head. Dead branches intertwined in sinister patterns. She glimpsed the bright, summer sky beyond.


    In the distance, past the flowerbeds, she spotted the old gardener standing. He was a large, muscular man who had been working in the academy for more than twenty years. Victorique looked away.


    A small white bird fluttered past.


    Victorique breathed a faint sigh.


    Meanwhile, in the village cemetery, located in a hollow on the outskirts of the village, an old man¡¯s low and grim voice echoed.


    Some ravens flew past, while some were perched on the crosses stuck in the dirt at an angle, cawing eerily.


    It grew dim, and a chilly breeze whistled past.


    ¡°The poor Protestants, buried alive, died one by one under the earth. In the following century, there were countless sightings of the ghost of a young woman covered in mud. Oh, the horror!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s terrifying!¡± Avril breathed. She had climbed over the Protestants¡¯ grave, her long legs dangling in the air.


    Even the dorm mother had joined them, sitting down as she listened to the old man¡¯s story.


    Kazuya had reluctantly stayed, but he was growing impatient.


    ¡°I get it,¡± he said. ¡°In short, Avril, you¡¯re not a scaredy-cat. That¡¯s why you like ghost stories. As proof, Ms. Cecile, the wimpiest person I know, takes off her glasses and runs away screaming once she hears someone telling a ghost story. But you¡­¡±


    Avril gave Kazuya a perplexed look. Pointing to the square headstone on which her slender waist rested, Kazuya continued.


    ¡°You¡¯re sitting boldly on that tombstone while listening to this story. What¡¯s with the look? The Protestants who were buried alive, the very ones that this old man is talking about, are lying right under you. See, you¡¯re not scared.¡±


    Avril still had the same look on her face.


    ¡°Ms. Cecile would have fainted,¡± Kazuya added. He turned to the gravekeeper with a serious look and fixed his posture. ¡°By the way, when were the Protestants massacred?¡±


    ¡°The fifteenth century. So five hundred years ago.¡± The old man smiled thinly.


    A raven flew by. Clouds hung over the sun, turning the cemetery even darker.


    ¡°Back in those days, Christians were divided into Catholics and Protestants. Many Protestants were chased all the way to the countryside. Some of our ancestors sheltered them, but pursuers caught up with a family hiding in a house somewhere. They were buried alive here as an example. A horrible thing to do. So horrible,¡± he repeated.


    ¡°That¡¯s why some of the larger houses around here still have hidden rooms that were built in those days,¡± he continued. ¡°Sometimes children wander into them, causing a commotion. They¡¯re mostly used for storage, but I suppose youngsters also use them as rendezvous spots.¡±


    Avril blushed a little. The matron nodded in understanding.


    ¡°Such things happened all over Europe back then. Terrible, to be sure, but it¡¯s all in the past. There were frequent sightings of the muddy young woman in the next century after that, but nowadays no one sees her anymore.¡±


    Noticing Avril¡¯s disappointed look, the old man laughed. ¡°Nothing we can do. It was a long, long time ago. During the time of my great, great, great grandfather. Even ghosts can¡¯t linger around that long.¡±


    The wind blew. The clouds drifted away, revealing the sun. Its blinding light shone on the damp cemetery.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure ghosts grow tired too,¡± the gravekeeper said. ¡°They can¡¯t keep holding grudges forever.¡±

 Volume 4 - CH 4.1

    ¡ªLeviathan 2¡ª


    I still remember that time.


    I was still much, much younger back then.


    I was in a pitch-dark place.


    A dark, sealed, stifling place.


    Deep in the earth.


    The bodies of my brethren were piled up like unwanted objects and covered with dirt. And I was with them. It was hard to breathe. I could not see anything. Deep in the dirt, I regained consciousness and called for God. Then I coughed and desperately called out the names of my brethren, one by one. Only a few responded with faint moans.


    It took me a long time to dig my way out of the dirt. When I finally emerged, it was dark outside. The faint moonlight illuminated my mud-covered face.


    At that moment, I felt it.


    There was no God.


    I could no longer feel the God I had believed in and worshiped devoutly. It was clear that I had been revived in hell. I was still very young back then. Too young to lose God. As I was digging my way through the dirt, my brethren perished, and I, the only one who had risen, had nothing left to believe in.


    We prayed as we were buried. But God did not save us.


    I looked around and found myself in a small cemetery. The cemetery of the village we stayed in. Several white crosses were stuck into the ground at an angle. We were buried. Buried alive. Why? Everyone died. Why?


    One thing was certain: if I was found, I would be killed and returned to this cemetery.


    So I left God there with the remains of my brethren, and ran.


    Ran through the cemetery.


    My body felt oddly light.


    Was I still alive? Or was I already dead?


    I did not know what was what anymore. I had left everything I knew in that grave. In my heart, I swore. Swore firmly, that I would become immortal and take my revenge. On this kingdom. On those who killed me. I would exact my vengeance in the most unholy way possible.


    It had been a long time since then.


    How time had passed.


    My memory was hazy.


    My soul had been wandering ever since.


    If I should ever die in the future¡­


    My soul would continue to wander.


    In the clock tower.


    For eternity.


    Chapter 4: Mean Frills and the Farting Newt


    Noon was nearing, and the blinding sun cast its bright rays on the French-style garden sprawling across the vast campus of St. Marguerite Academy, shining on the verdant lawns, well-kept flowerbeds, the pathways paved with white stones.


    Cold water flowing from the crystal fountain glistened under the summer sky.


    After returning from the village, Kazuya and Avril walked along the pathway and stopped in front of the fountain.


    Avril held her hand over the cold water. ¡°So refreshing!¡± she exclaimed.


    ¡°Really? Me too, then¡­¡±


    Kazuya placed the bag he was holding¡ªa sandwich for lunch that he bought from the village bakery¡ªon the edge of the fountain and touched the water. The coolness permeated into his warm body.


    Feels nice, he thought.


    Avril suddenly scooped up water with both her hands and poured it over Kujou.


    Kazuya yelped in surprise. He then grabbed his bagged lunch and ran away. Avril chased after him, laughing merrily.


    It was a fun moment, like it was summer break already.


    Kazuya was running along the pathway when he spotted a mass of white frills on the grass on a hillside. He picked up his speed.


    ¡°Kujou? What¡¯s wrong?¡± Avril wondered as she watched Kazuya recede further and further away.


    Kazuya kept running toward the colors white and pink at immense speed. He left the pathway, weaved past the benches, and stopped abruptly before the lawn.


    ¡°Hey, Victorique,¡± Kazuya called.


    Victorique was wearing an organdy dress, enamel shoes, and she was holding a pretty parasol now. Her stunning golden hair hung down over the grass. Her pale emerald eyes were narrowed irritably.


    ¡°Victorique?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Hello?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°I know you can hear me. Here, I got you something.¡±


    ¡°¡­What would that be?¡± Victorique furrowed her brows and twirled her parasol. ¡°Let me guess. Another weird hat or a skull.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me. It¡¯s a sandwich. I got grilled chicken, asparagus, cold ham and purple onions. And some sweet stuff that you like. Lingonberry jam, raspberry jam, and also¡­¡±


    Victorique turned around with a smile and extended her small hand. Kazuya handed her the whole bag. She then rummaged through the sandwiches, tossing the ones she didn¡¯t like onto the grass. Kazuya picked them back up and returned them inside the bag.


    Eventually, Victorique picked one of the sandwiches, sniffed it, and looked very delighted.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad there¡¯s something you like,¡± Kazuya said. ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­ Oh, you like raspberry jam, huh? Avril seems to like it too. You should eat it quickly before she gets it.¡±


    Victorique¡¯s eyes widened. She immediately took a bite out of the sandwich.


    Munch. Munch.


    She chewed as much as she could.


    Kazuya watched her with a smile.


    The wind blew, twirling Victorique¡¯s parasol. Her golden hair billowed like a living creature, then slowly settled back down.


    Munch. Munch.


    Victorique continued eating the raspberry jam sandwich.


    ¡°Haa¡­ haa¡­ Kujou¡¯s¡­ got so much stamina,¡± Avril muttered. ¡°Does he jog every day or something? Maybe he runs up hills or some stairs.¡±


    Avril, breathing hard, finally caught up to Kazuya.


    He had completely forgotten about her, and was talking to a white mass of frills.


    ¡°Who is he talking to?¡± she wondered. ¡°Wait, that fluffy white thing¡­ must be Victorique.¡±


    Avril quietly approached them.


    Victorique gave curt replies. Her muffled voice suggested she was eating.


    ¡°There¡¯s a Protestants¡¯ grave in the cemetery,¡± Kazuya said, ¡°and the old man shared a story about an invisible ghost. Also, houses in the village have lots of hidden rooms to hide the Protestants. Oh, by the way, do you know this song?¡±


    Much to Avril¡¯s surprise, Kazuya started singing.


    Africans say,


    March, march I say!


    Till the hens sing!


    Till the stars fall from the torn roof!


    Du da du da doo¡­


    Even in dreams


    March, march I say!


    Du da du da doo¡­


    Enthused, he repeated the last part over and over again. He seemed to be having a lot of fun.


    What is he doing? This is a competition. Why is he sharing all the intel we gathered to the enemy?! And he¡¯s singing!


    Avril sat down next to them with her lips pursed.


    Kazuya glanced at her. ¡°Oh, Avril. Why the long face?¡±


    Before she could reply, the mass of frills muttered in her husky voice, ¡°The farting newt has returned.¡±


    ¡°What did you say?! Wait, my raspberry jam sandwich! Why¡¯s this frill eating it?!¡±


    ¡°She has a name, and it¡¯s Victorique,¡± Kazuya said. ¡°And Victorique, her name¡¯s Avril, not farting newt. What¡¯s wrong with you two? You just met, and all you do is fight, calling each other names. Here you go, Avril.¡±


    Kazuya gave Avril her second favorite flavor, lingonberry jam sandwich. Without any other choice, she started eating it.


    ¡°Why are you telling her everything when this is supposed to be a competition?¡± Avril grumbled.


    ¡°Huh? Uh, I just thought it would be better if we exchanged intel. Did I mess up?¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine. But anyway, you were furious earlier. Did you already forget?¡±


    ¡°Furious? Who, me?¡± Kazuya looked perplexed.


    Avril was deeply shocked by his reaction. ¡°You two had a huge fight earlier. I was worried and all¡­¡± She glanced at Victorique, asking for backup, but she just looked away and gave a small shrug, as if saying, ¡®It¡¯s nothing new.¡¯


    Kazuya regarded Avril curiously. Then, he spotted a pair of large round glasses lying next to Victorique and picked it up.


    ¡°Are these Ms. Cecile¡¯s glasses?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Ahuh,¡± Victorique replied coolly. ¡°We were in the clock tower, and she suddenly screamed and ran away. She left her glasses behind for some reason. I don¡¯t know where she went. I really don¡¯t get that woman.¡±


    ¡°Ah, I see.¡±


    Kazuya nodded. Once when he entered an abandoned warehouse with Ms. Cecile, a strange voice surprised her, and she removed her glasses and took off at full speed.


    ¡°She probably can¡¯t see well right now,¡± he said.


    ¡°That¡¯s none of my business,¡± Victorique replied.


    ¡°Of course not. I¡¯ll look for her, then. You wait here.¡± Kazuya stood up, glasses in hand.


    Victorique let out a surprised grunt. She wanted to say something, but Kazuya, not noticing, left.


    ¡°W-Wait, Kujou¡­¡± Victorique murmured. ¡°Don¡¯t¡­ go¡­!¡±


    Avril, chewing on her sandwich with a frown, began stealing glances at Victorique.


    For a while, Victorique just watched Kazuya go.


    Then she spun around, turning her back to Avril, and used the parasol as a shield. Actually, it was more like she crawled into the parasol. Silence descended. She looked like a hare trying its best to hide in the presence of a predator.


    Avril watched the parasol, confused. She then stood up and circled around in front of Victorique.


    Victorique looked up, and yelped at the sight of Avril. She spun around again, but Avril followed her. After repeating this a few times, Avril became annoyed.


    ¡°Why are you avoiding me? What a rude girl.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Look at me. Your classmate¡¯s over here.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    There was no reply.


    For a while Avril was irritated, but when she noticed the parasol quivering, she became worried.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± she asked.


    Avril peered in from above. Victorique¡¯s supposedly rosy cheeks were as pale as this morning when she entered the classroom. Her lips were trembling, her eyelashes quivering. She seemed frightened.


    ¡°S-Sorry,¡± Avril said. ¡°But what¡¯s the matter?¡±


    ¡°Get away from me, you farting newt!¡±


    ¡°What?! I¡¯m trying to be nice here, and you¡¯re just being rude. Look at me!¡±


    ¡°No! Go away!¡±


    ¡°No. You go!¡±


    Avril thought Victorique would not give in, but after a moment¡¯s hesitation, she stood up. Holding a parasol in one hand and a golden book in the other, she walked away.


    ¡°You¡¯re not going anywhere!¡± Avril stomped on the hem of Victorique¡¯s dress.


    Victorique tumbled. The golden book rolled across the grass. Her dress flipped, and her dark pink drawers with its rose-patterned embroidery billowed softly in the air.


    Victorique was lying flat on the ground, not moving a muscle. Her parasol was blown away by the wind.


    Avril dashed across the lawn, leapt high, and caught the parasol before it could fly away. She then ran back with the nimble strides of a doe, and begrudgingly returned the parasol to Victorique.


    Victorique slowly got up and held her forehead with her little palms, moaning in pain.


    ¡°Let me see!¡± Avril said, peering into her face. Victorique resisted, but Avril grabbed her hands and pulled them away from her face.


    ¡°I don¡¯t see anything,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯re overreacting.¡±


    Victorique groaned.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, anyway. Here¡¯s your parasol.¡±


    Victorique quietly took the parasol from her.


    Avril frowned. ¡°But you¡¯re not very nice. Why do you hate me so much?¡±


    There was no answer, so she grabbed her hand, but quickly let go.


    Victorique¡¯s small, fair hands were surprisingly cold. Her face was growing paler by the minute, and her green eyes, staring nervously at Avril, were quivering.


    ¡°Wait¡­ you¡¯re not mad. You¡¯re nervous?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s what¡¯s going on. But why? You¡¯ve never met a girl your age before?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Hmm? What did you say?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Victorique snapped, glaring at Avril with a red face.


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Okay, whatever. You¡¯re a Gray Wolf, after all. You must have your reasons. So you were just shy, huh?¡±


    Avril chuckled. She sat down on the grass, throwing out her slender legs. Victorique stared at her as if she were looking at something peculiar.


    ¡°In that case, we should get to know each other more. Nice to meet you. My name is Avril Bradley, an international student from England. My beloved grandfather was an adventurer, so I want to be an adventurer too.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Victorique murmured timidly.


    ¡°You do?¡±


    ¡°Kujou tells me all sorts of things about the outside. The village flea market overflowing with goods, the quiet Sunday church, the small newly-built movie theater. Your name often comes up in his stories. You¡¯re always having fun, going wherever you want.¡±


    Victorique¡¯s voice sounded gloomy. Worried, Avril looked into her small face, but she looked away.


    Her small figure, clothed in a luxurious dress, and perfect features made her seem like a porcelain doll. Her mysterious, melancholic, husky voice sounded like a terrifying cacophony, making Avril uneasy.


    Avril tried to sound as cheerful as possible to drown out the noise. ¡°How about we talk about the alchemist?¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Victorique answered curtly.

 Volume 4 - CH 4.2

    ¡°Wanna hear my deduction? The alchemist¡¯s ghost still wanders the clock tower and is killing people. He doesn¡¯t like strangers visiting the clock tower. That¡¯s why¡ª¡°


    ¡°So you¡¯re dumb,¡± Victorique scoffed.


    ¡°Wh-What did you call me?!¡± Avril was seething.


    ¡°You¡¯re Kujou¡¯s friend, all right. Just the right amount of stupid. Be more logical. There is no such thing as ghosts. Wake up.¡±


    ¡°So the culprit¡¯s not a ghost? In that case, maybe the alchemist is still alive like Kujou said. It¡¯s been twenty years, and his body was never found. He¡¯s been hiding somewhere in the clock tower, stealing our food.¡±


    ¡°The alchemist is long dead,¡± Victorique snorted.


    She turned away and started rummaging through the bakery bag. She took the ham sandwich, but before she could bite into it, Avril snatched it away and stood up.


    Victorique looked at Avril, astonished. She rose to her feet and reached for the sandwich. But no matter how much she stretched out her hand, she could not overcome the twenty-centimeter difference in their heights.


    ¡°Explain it,¡± Avril said smugly.


    ¡°K-Kujou wouldn¡¯t do that.¡±


    ¡°Because Kujou is nice. But I¡¯m not. Now spit it out!¡±


    ¡°You farting newt!¡±


    ¡°Leviathan the Alchemist was a real magician. I¡¯m sure of it. He wore a mask and a robe to hide the fact that he¡¯s been living for centuries. Anyone would be horrified if they saw an unaging body.¡±


    Victorique¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°That¡¯s impossible. You really are dumb.¡±


    ¡°Wh-Why you! Then why was he wearing a mask and a robe? If he had another reason, tell me. Come on.¡± She lowered the sandwich little by little.


    Staring at the food, Victorique hesitantly said, ¡°You¡¯re right in that he was trying to hide his true identity.¡±


    ¡°I knew it. He was immortal¡ª¡±


    ¡°He wasn¡¯t. Let¡¯s say you put on a mask, a robe and gloves. You wouldn¡¯t be able to recognize yourself, would you?¡±


    ¡°No¡­¡±


    Avril lowered the sandwich. Victorique took it, sat down on the grass, and munched on it. She chewed and swallowed.


    ¡°Listen closely, farting newt,¡± she continued. ¡°Let¡¯s say, for example, you want to hide your gender. A mask and robe would do just that.¡±


    ¡°So Leviathan was a woman?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not too far off the mark. I¡¯d say it¡¯s much closer than your immortality theory.¡±


    ¡°A-A woman,¡± Avril mumbled, not entirely convinced. ¡°I think the Leviathan in the Bible was female, but still¡­¡±


    Victorique was happily gobbling up her sandwich. The bread passed through pearly teeth and disappeared rapidly inside her mouth.


    Avril was deep in thought for a moment, her mouth hanging open, but eventually snapped back to reality.


    ¡°But what about that story where he turned a white rose into a blue one? A lot of people witnessed it. His real identity aside, this story really happened.¡±


    ¡°It was a trick,¡± Victorique said flatly.


    Avril was silent for a while. Then, suddenly, she flared up. ¡°That can¡¯t be!¡± she shouted, hands on her hips.


    Victorique jumped, startled by her loud voice. She turned her gaze to Avril, blinking repeatedly.


    ¡°What is it this time?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re wrong. It was magic. It was incredible, okay? Frilly witch!¡±


    ¡°Frilly witch? What does that even mean?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know! Just consider it an insult! How about that, huh?!¡±


    Victorique stared blankly at Avril, then frowned. ¡°Let me prove it to you, then.¡±


    ¡°¡­Prove what?¡±


    ¡°Go find me a white rose. I will do what he did in front of you. Then you can take all the time in the world to reflect on how stupid you were and die of shame. Get moving!¡±


    Avril stomped her feet in frustration, but seconds later, she begrudgingly headed for the flowerbeds.


    The sun grew more and more intense. The lawn was blinding.


    Avril found a white rose from among the many flowerbeds on the campus. She picked it, making sure that the gardener wasn¡¯t around, and returned to the lawn.


    Victorique had also gone somewhere, but she came back around the same time as Avril.


    Victorique took the white rose from Avril and gripped it tight.


    ¡°Are you going to recite an incantation or something?¡± Avril asked.


    ¡°Be quiet, newt,¡± Victorique huffed.


    ¡°What?!¡±


    Victorique, clutching the rose in one hand, began eating the rest of her sandwich with her other hand.


    Munch, munch.


    Swallow.


    Munch, munch.


    Swallow.


    Munch, munch.


    Avril watched the rose with bated breath.


    A while later, the white rose gradually turned blue. Avril gasped. The change in color started from the base of the petals, and after a few minutes the white rose turned into a bright blue rose.


    Avril gasped, bringing both hands over her mouth.


    Victorique casually continued eating her sandwich.


    ¡°How did you do it?¡± Avril asked.


    Victorique raised her head. ¡°I¡¯m a Gray Wolf,¡± she said offhandedly. ¡°I can do a lot of things.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I can fly, become invisible, and change the color of roses from white to blue.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right. I¡¯m a monster.¡±


    ¡°Won¡¯t you tell me the truth?¡±


    Victorique cocked her head and thought about it for a moment.


    Then she shook her head. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Why not?!¡±


    ¡°Because.¡±


    ¡°Y-You¡¯re messing with me! You know I want to know, but you won¡¯t tell me. Besides, I¡¯ve never heard of such an ability before from Gray Wolves. They¡¯re supposed to be smart strategists who could bring glory or peril to a country. They don¡¯t fly, turn invisible, or change the color of roses. I know these things. So tell me the truth, mean frill!¡±


    Avril had her firsts clenched for a bit, shaking, then out of nowhere, she lunged at Victorique, who was eating her sandwich nonchalantly.


    ¡°What are you doing, you barbarian?!¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s right. My ancestors were Vikings! That¡¯s what my grandfather used to say!¡±


    ¡°Ow! You¡¯re hurting me!¡±


    Avril bit down on her slender arm, and Victorique¡¯s tight grip on the rose loosened. She flailed about, letting out a mournful cry. The ruffles and laces of her dress danced in the air.


    Avril grabbed Victorique¡¯s wrist and looked into her palm. A piece of cotton soaked in blue ink rolled out. She picked it up and studied it carefully.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± she finally asked.


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m gonna bite you again!¡±


    Victorique gave a jerk. ¡°You let the stem suck in the ink,¡± she reluctantly said. ¡°Then the white rose will be dyed the same color as the ink. It¡¯s a simple trick.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­¡±


    Avril sank down on the grass, dejected. Victorique rubbed her arm sadly and slowly moved away from her.


    Avril heaved a deep sigh. ¡°A huge moment in Sauville¡¯s history was actually that simple?¡±


    ¡°People readily believe the lies they want to believe. Back then, the king of Sauville needed wealth for the kingdom. The young and lonely queen was looking for a man with special powers to protect her. There were people who wanted to believe in the lie that was a mysterious and powerful alchemist. Had the royal family been satisfied with what they had, they would not have been fooled. That¡¯s all there is to it.¡±


    Clouds drifted across the sky, covering the sun a little. The sunlight grew softer, and the grass turned a little darker.


    ¡°It was all a trick,¡± Victorique continued in her husky voice. ¡°Like the blue rose, his production of gold in his workshop, his disappearance after being riddled by poisoned arrows, all employed some sort of trickery. I¡¯m certain of it. That¡¯s what I¡¯m trying to figure out.¡±


    A red-haired man wearing a hat low passed by the pathway in the distance. Sensing a sinister atmosphere, Avril shuddered.


    Victorique took out the poster she received from the red-haired man.


    The Illusion of the Century! Wong Kai¡¯s Great Magic!


    Depicting a headless man and a beautiful woman floating in the air, the poster was for a large-scale magic show that had been extremely popular in Saubreme in the past few years.


    ¡°Leviathan was a magician who was born too early. If he were around today, he would probably be very popular. After all, he managed to deceive the king and queen and participated in the kingdom¡¯s politics. No other magician has done what he did. In that sense, he was a splendid blockhead. He influenced history through his lies.¡± Victorique paused. ¡°He must have lived a life that was anything but boring,¡± she muttered in a peculiar tone. ¡°He was, after all, one of those people. But I doubt he ever knew peace.¡±


    The wind blew again, and the clouds drifted away, revealing the sun. Dazzling sunlight returned to the lawn, illuminating Avril¡¯s short, blonde hair as she hung her head low.


    Avril sighed. She took off her leather shoes and white socks and rose to her feet.


    Walking barefoot on the grass, she mumbled, ¡°I see.¡±


    Avril turned around and saw Victorique standing up as well. She walked toward the small stream and dunked her feet in the water, one at a time.


    Clear, gentle-flowing water enveloped Avril¡¯s pearly feet. Tiny fish swam around the gravel and aquatic plants.


    ¡°You¡¯re amazing, Victorique,¡± she said, enjoying the coolness of the water. ¡°I haven¡¯t really thought about it before, but maybe I¡¯m a little dumb. What do you think?¡±


    There was no reply.


    Avril lifted her pleated skirt and strolled along the stream. Her long, radiant legs glistened white in the summer sun.


    ¡°I mean, look at me,¡± she went on. ¡°Since Kujou spends a lot of time with you, maybe he sees me as a dumb girl. What I¡¯m trying to say is¡­¡± She fidgeted for a bit. ¡°I know this sounds lame, b-but I¡¯m gonna say it anyway. D-Don¡¯t take Kujou away from me. Wait, nooooo! Forget I said that! Aaaah! I didn¡¯t say anything¡­ Huh? Victorique?¡±


    Avril let go of her skirt and looked around.


    She was alone. When she climbed out of the stream and surveyed her surroundings, she saw Victorique¡¯s small, fluffy figure already trotting away in the distance.


    ¡°Sh-She didn¡¯t hear what I said, did she?¡±


    Avril¡¯s head dropped. She sat down on the grass, throwing her wet legs out, and groaned. For a while she was crestfallen, but eventually she pulled herself together.


    ¡°Now I¡¯m hungry!¡±


    She picked up the bakery bag lying nearby. She took out a chicken sandwich and started eating heartily.


    Ms. Cecile, hidden among the flowers in a small flowerbed across the stream, was watching Avril closely.


    She was sitting down, hugging her knees, cupping her ear toward the direction of the lawn. She was clearly eavesdropping.


    ¡°Wh-What was that just now?¡± she said, shocked. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to listen to any of that, but wow!¡±

 Volume 4 - CH 5.1

    ¡ªLeviathan 3¡ª


    My honor, if I may say so, lasted only two years after the night I created the blue rose in the royal palace.


    During those two years, the queen took me with her wherever she went, and with the masked alchemist behind her, she threatened the nobles who refused to accept her. The aristocrats gradually came to believe that they had to please the queen or there would be terrible consequences. She began to reign over high society like an empress.


    Meanwhile, I tried to reign in politics. I attended and spoke at every meeting on colonial policy. Many of the top brass disliked my presence, while the king seemed to take a neutral stance.


    Then one night¡­


    I entered the queen¡¯s room to find Baron Musgrave there. The Minister of Justice. The man who had called me a fraud. He was whispering something to the queen, and she turned pale.


    Baron Musgrave had told her to keep me away from her. If she kept this up, the king would send her away along with the alchemist.


    From that night on, the queen no longer called me to her side. I asked her why, but she would not tell me.


    And then several days later, I was summoned to a certain place.


    A courtroom.


    Baron Musgrave, the Minister of Justice himself, had initiated an unprecedented hearing. He and the king were present.


    The validity of alchemy itself was put on trial. Using records and historical facts from all times and places, a scholar from the Ministry of Occult asserted that alchemy was real, while a scholar from the Academy of Science insisted that there was no evidence.


    I listened in disgust and anger.


    It was a showdown between ancient knowledge and science. A losing battle for the occult, which had been losing support in recent times.


    I could not listen. I fell silent, my fists shaking.


    The baron stood up. He pointed straight at me, and said, ¡°Leviathan! You have lost.¡±


    I snickered. ¡°How?¡±


    He clapped his hands ceremoniously. ¡°But I will give you a chance. Create gold right here, right now, in front of our eyes. You must abandon your secretive methods and reveal the manufacturing process. This is an order from the king.¡±


    The baron turned around and exchanged looks with the king. I knew exactly what that gesture meant.


    ¡°I see what is happening,¡± I said. ¡°You are afraid of my power, but you want gold. You wish to ruin me, corner me, so that you can perform alchemy with your own hands.¡±


    ¡°No. I do not believe in alchemy. Why would I? I simply want to prove that it¡¯s not real.¡±


    ¡°But what about the king?¡± I sneered, and the king¡¯s face twisted.


    Baron Musgrave raised his hands toward the king in protest. ¡°Your Majesty, it¡¯s all a trick. If we don¡¯t get rid of this monster now, Sauville will fall into ruin!¡±


    ¡°It is no use, Baron. The king wants gold.¡±


    Baron Musgrave was speechless. He tried to jump me, but I dodged, laughing.


    ¡°Leviathan,¡± the king called in a quiet voice.


    I turned around. The king was staring at me, wearing the same expression that he had in the corridor two years ago. A mix of suspicion and fear.


    ¡°Take off your mask and robe,¡± he said.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve always wanted to see your real face. I spent sleepless nights, curious. Are you a demon? Or are you a human being? Are you even alive? Thanks to you, our finances are stable. Yet I could not help but think: What if we entered into a contract with a terrifying entity?¡±


    I swallowed, took several steps back.


    The king never took his eyes off me. ¡°I cannot sleep at night¡­¡±


    ¡°S-Stop!¡±


    ¡°When I doze off, I dream of that mask.¡±


    ¡°Stay back!¡±


    ¡°In your dreams, you remove your mask. One night your face was that of a rotting dead crawling with maggots. Another night, you had the face of a beautiful young man. But another night it was that of a terrifying woman¡¯s, twisted in resentment. But I have a feeling that none of the faces I have seen in my dreams belong to you.¡±


    ¡°No¡­¡±


    ¡°I cannot sleep at night, masked one. Enigmatic alchemist!¡±


    For the first time, I felt fear.


    Baron Musgrave watched us curiously, at how the tables had turned.


    The king did not back down. ¡°Leviathan, please take off that mask!¡± he insisted.


    ¡°I refuse!¡±


    I turned on my heel and fled.


    That night, a verdict was handed down.


    The court had ruled that alchemy was not real.


    I became a nobody. I asked to see the beautiful and sweet queen, but I was never allowed to see her again.


    Alchemy does not exist. Then I am no longer an alchemist; only a mysterious man in a mask.


    After losing everything in just one day, I returned to the village alone. As the train rocked my body, rage and bitterness filled my heart.


    I was so close. I never anticipated an obstacle.


    Baron Musgrave¡­


    It was his fault. He called me a fraud and ended me.


    By the time I arrived in the village, I had nothing but vengeance burning in my heart.


    I returned to the clock tower and was about to spend the night doing experiments when someone came to visit me. When I went outside, I saw a luxurious carriage parked outside.


    ¡°The Queen?¡±


    I had a glimmer of hope. Her face flashed through my mind.


    But it was someone else who jumped down from the carriage. A boy of only 15 or 16 years old. The same boy whom I met in this same tower two years ago.


    Ian de Musgrave, the eldest son of the cursed Baron Musgrave. His short hair had grown long, and his once effeminate body had grown considerably. He looked more like an adult now.


    Ian, looking as innocent and happy as ever, asked me, ¡°What are you doing now?¡±


    ¡°Living my life in seclusion,¡± I replied.


    ¡°What a waste! How in the world did this happen?¡±


    Did he not know what his father had done? Or did he just not care?


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t come here because my father insists I stay away. But he seemed busy today, so he couldn¡¯t keep an eye on me the whole time. I threatened my attendant. Am I bothering you?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I shook my head.


    Two years had passed since that day, and Ian was still as curious about alchemy as ever. Without a shred of caution, he said, ¡°Please teach me alchemy. I¡¯d like to know all about it.¡±


    ¡°Very well.¡±


    I led Ian and his attendant into the clock tower¡¯s clockwork room.


    Four huge mechanisms and a pendulum were moving slowly that night. Lab equipment lay scattered on the ebony table.


    I ordered his attendant to check carefully that there was no gold anywhere in the workshop, just as Baron Musgrave had done two years ago.


    When they were done, I sent them out into the hallway. Then I locked myself in the workshop alone with Ian.


    Ian, who had no idea what was going on, looked happy. He was enthusiastic as he talked to me about all sorts of things.


    Three hours passed.


    The boy¡¯s agonized cry¡ªthe most horrifying scream that anyone had ever heard in their entire life¡ªrang out from the workshop.


    Startled, the attendant kicked down the door and tumbled inside.


    ¡°What did you do?!¡±


    In the clockwork room, huge mechanisms spun eerily. A pendulum was swinging idly high above, the breeze it produced flapping my robe.


    In the middle of the workshop stood a masked and robed alchemist¡ªme. Alone.


    Ian de Musgrave was lying at my feet.


    His pretty face was distorted with fear and pain to the point that he was completely unrecognizable. Clumps of gold glittered around his open mouth.


    A large golden flower had blossomed, ripping through his white belly.


    Splashes of gold broke through Ian¡¯s belly from the inside, mixing with his internal organs, flesh, skin. It spilled out of the gaping hole in his stomach like a blooming flower.


    Warm gold mingling with fountaining blood gushed out of the hole.


    The attendant lunged at me. ¡°Bastard! What have you done to the young master?!¡±


    ¡°I made him drink molten gold,¡± I replied coolly. ¡°The gold went down his throat and into his stomach, and the high heat ruptured his belly. The shock killed him.¡±


    ¡°Y-You monster!¡± The attendant, trembling with rage, pointed at my mask. ¡°Don¡¯t even think you can get away with this. This is murder. An unknown commoner killed the son of a noble!¡±


    ¡°I am well aware of that.¡±


    ¡°Bastard!¡±


    ¡°Tell Baron Musgrave: can he prove it in court?¡±


    The attendant looked stunned.


    The giant mechanisms whirred endlessly.


    I snickered. The pendulum swung slowly, creating a dry breeze that fluttered my robe.


    ¡°Do you understand what I am saying? Baron Musgrave has just proven tonight, on his own authority, in the court of Sauville, that alchemy is not real. And just a few moments ago, you confirmed that there was no gold anywhere in this workshop. But when you opened the door, Ian was dead, having drunk gold. If alchemy was not real, where did the gold come from?¡±


    The attendant fell on his knees and covered his face with both hands.


    I guffawed. My shrill laughter echoed up to the high ceiling, at the swinging pendulum, at the abyss. My voice rose endlessly.


    ¡°None can pass judgment on me. None!¡± I bellowed.

 Volume 4 - CH 5.2

    From that day on, the clock tower was surrounded and monitored by the Royal Knights. Unable to step out of the clock tower, I immersed myself in my experiments.


    Since the night I killed Ian, his ghost had been haunting me. The boy with the golden flower on his belly had been following me, standing in one corner, in the corridor, at the top of the stairs. Ian was always by my side, looking at me sadly as I spent my days experimenting.


    Ian was faultless.


    I had killed an innocent boy who idolized me.


    I felt nothing but anger and humiliation that night, but remorse consumed me every night after.


    An eerie darkness began to shroud the clock tower. For some reason, the surrounding beech trees started dying, covered in dark cobwebs that seemed like garments for the dead.


    Did the students of the academy sense the ominous atmosphere surrounding the clock tower? I did not know. All the students here were odd children who did not speak a word, and moved as if they were mechanical contraptions. I had no idea who they were or what they were being taught.


    Then one day¡­


    I was huddled in the clockwork room as usual, spending all day doing experiments, when I heard footsteps approaching. No visitors came to this place. Perhaps it was the boy¡¯s ghost wandering around. I kept my eyes on the ebony table.


    My ears caught the sound of heels.


    Then I saw a pair of fine but worn boots.


    The ghost stood still beside me, waiting. Wearily, I lifted my head.


    A young man was standing there like a ghost in the darkly-lit workshop.


    I could not see his face, backlit by the orange glow of the wall lamp. When he moved his body, the light from the lamp shifted and his face became visible.


    ¡°¡­Ian.¡±


    The familiar ghost made me rise from my chair. He took a step back, surprised. Then he tilted his head and looked up at me curiously.


    It was not Ian.


    I was out of my mind. The young man was a little older than Ian. Being holed in the tower, with only a ghost as my company, must have driven me to insanity. The young man, however, looked somewhat similar to Ian. Perhaps it was the casual manner in which he carried himself, and his aristocratic grace. Ian was genteel but unpretentious for a noble.


    I took a closer look at the young man.


    His soft hair, tied back sloppily, cascaded down his back like a young horse¡¯s tail. His face was pale, and there was a sorrowful glint in his eyes. He must have been 18 or 19 years old. Despite his aristocratic features, he was dressed in plain clothing of a faded shirt and slim pants.


    ¡°Nice to meet you,¡± he said. ¡°My name is Albert.¡±


    From the moment I met Albert, I knew there was something wrong with him. I could tell from the look in his eyes that there was something sinister lurking beneath his serene and handsome features. He appeared possessed by something otherworldly.


    Albert was an official of the Ministry of the Occult.


    ¡°I came here to protect you,¡± he said.


    ¡°Protect me, you say? From what?¡±


    ¡°From the king, of course.¡± Albert grinned.


    ¡°¡­From the king?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Although he had been wearing a serious expression ever since he entered the workshop, I suddenly had the feeling that he was just fooling around.


    To him, everything was a game, like he was playing God¡¯s dice.


    I did not know why that thought occurred to me.


    ¡°At this rate, you will be eliminated by the king,¡± he said glumly. ¡°He¡¯s afraid of your power, and the realist old men, including Baron Musgrave, are desperate to have you killed. Besides, the Ministry of the Occult is not willing to help you, as that would mean opposing the king.¡±


    ¡°Yes¡­¡±


    ¡°But I am willing to lend you a hand. My help doesn¡¯t come free, of course.¡±


    ¡°I see. So you want gold as well.¡±


    Albert chuckled. ¡°Nothing so tacky.¡± He brushed his hair wearily. ¡°I simply wish to prepare for a storm.¡±


    ¡°A storm, you say?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Have you sensed it yet, Leviathan? Or were you too focused on colonial policies that you failed to notice?¡±


    ¡°I give up. What on earth are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°There is a storm coming, the likes of which the world has never seen before.¡±


    Albert¡¯s voice dropped low. The forlorn smile on his face was gone, replaced by a look of terrible, dark passion. His eyes, wide open, seemed to be staring into the void. Like a soothsayer, he held out his hands with a sad expression on his face, then spoke.


    ¡°The king has not yet noticed. He lacks foresight.¡±


    ¡°What is this storm you are talking about?¡±


    ¡°A Great War.¡±


    I laughed. ¡°A war? There¡¯s always been a war somewhere in the European continent since the era before Christ. History is marked with either wars or pestilence. So, where will this war break out?¡±


    ¡°Nowhere. And everywhere.¡± Albert¡¯s low and eerie voice echoed throughout the workshop. ¡°Hear me out. The incoming storm will not be isolated to one area. It won¡¯t be countries fighting over territories or grudges. In the next few years, a storm of an unprecedented scale will sweep over the lands. I know it. When that time comes, nations from all over the world will form alliances, fight, and then join forces again. For years, the world will be engulfed in ghoulish madness. A Great War. Do you understand? It¡¯s Sodom. It¡¯s a banquet of insanity. No one can stop it, and no one will be able to figure out how it started, or why. Fire and wind will blanket the world. Every city, every sea, will become a battleground, countless soldiers will bleed, and nations will fall.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know when it will come or how the destruction will begin. I can¡¯t see that far into the future. It is painful, Leviathan. After that storm, everything will change. The world will adopt new rules, new ways of life, and Europe, the center of the world, will become an old piece of junk. This place will be decimated, and when that happens, all that we believe in, the knowledge that Europe has cherished throughout its long history, will disappear. Mystic arts will be reduced to superstition. The world will slip away somewhere we do not yet know. I find that terrifying. That is why we must prepare for battle, Leviathan.¡±


    ¡°Sauville is a small kingdom,¡± he muttered sadly. ¡°We must protect it by any means necessary. But the king doesn¡¯t understand that. Neither does my father.¡±


    I shuddered at the sound of his manic voice. My gut told me that this soft-spoken young man was crazy. Yet I also felt that there was some truth to his vision of the future. Perhaps he could foresee a dark future because he was crazy.


    In my mind I saw a world mired in madness, a storm of unprecedented magnitude, a world war that had not yet happened. Soldiers bleeding, vehicles that looked like lumps of iron I had never seen before, the dull sound of propellers emitted by bombers streaking through the sky.


    After talking about the future like some fortune-teller, Albert cast his eyes down. Then he laid his hand on my knee, and whispered, ¡°I need your help. In return, I will do everything in my power to protect you. I have limited power while my father is still alive, but¡­¡±


    ¡°You need my help? For a war that might not even happen?¡±


    ¡°Yes. There is something we need.¡±


    ¡°You want gold too,¡± I said tiredly.


    ¡°Of course not!¡± he spat. ¡°I don¡¯t need gold. That¡¯s not what I want from you. I want absolute power!¡± Albert regarded me with wide, crazed eyes. ¡°Leviathan, you¡¯re the only one who can create it. It will become Sauville¡¯s trump card in facing the storm. What lies beneath that enigmatic mask will save the European continent from battle and from desolation. I beg you. Please lend me your strength.¡±


    ¡°What would you have me create?¡±


    Albert¡¯s thin lips twisted into a grin. ¡°I want you to create¡­¡±


    And then he uttered the name of the thing he wanted me to create.


    Something accursed.


    A bizarre entity that most defied the laws of nature.


    ¡°Homunculi!¡±

 Volume 4 - CH 5.3

    Chapter 5: Farewell, Fiend


    On the campus of St. Marguerite Academy, the lush green lawns and gorgeous flowerbeds glowed vividly under the sky. The summer sun shone on the water cascading from the crystal fountain and on the pathways paved with white stones.


    In the middle of the colorful flowerbeds, near the relaxing stream, Ms. Cecile was mumbling to herself.


    ¡°I-I wasn¡¯t expecting that. Don¡¯t take Kujou away from me? He¡¯s a nice boy, I suppose. Well-mannered, kind-hearted, and somewhat amusing. But¡­¡±


    The sun was slowly going down. In the distance, Inspector Blois, his golden drill-shaped hair fixed properly this time, was walking along the pathway, with his subordinates¡ªholding hands, as usual¡ªfollowing him. Victorique was already gone. Avril, disheartened, was tottering toward the school building.


    Ms. Cecile stood up. She wore no glasses as she had left them in the clock tower earlier. Her drooping brown eyes looked larger and more moist than usual. A gust almost knocked her into the flowerbed, but she managed to stay on her feet. She sighed in relief.


    Suddenly she clapped her hands, and her face lit up.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get this straight,¡± she said.


    She crouched down, picked up a twig, and scratched a diagram on the ground. At the corners of a triangle, she wrote V, K, and A.


    ¡°First, Avril actually likes Kujou. Since when did she start liking him? When she first transferred, I think she was chasing around Kujou because she liked the supernatural, and he was a mysterious oriental called the Reaper. When did that turn into love? I didn¡¯t notice at all. Well, let¡¯s leave that aside for now. What about Kujou? I have no idea. He looks earnest¡­ Oh, I think he mentioned he liked blondes! Or wait, I think he said his favorite color was gold. Oh well, whatever. Anyway, that means¡­ Wait, Avril and Victorique both have blonde hair. Now what?¡±


    Ms. Cecile cocked her head. She added arrows.


    ¡°Whatever. Let¡¯s say Kujou likes Victorique. I have a feeling that¡¯s the case. Besides, that would be more interesting. Then what about Victorique?¡±


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± came a familiar male voice from behind.


    Ms. Cecile let out a shriek, sprang to her feet, and erased the diagram she had drawn on the ground with the heel of her shoe.


    ¡°Huh? Oh, Kujou¡­¡± She turned around and saw Kazuya, holding her glasses, staring at her with a dumbfounded look. She wiped away the cold sweat. ¡°I wasn¡¯t doing anything.¡±


    ¡°Right¡­ I guess you can¡¯t do anything without your glasses. Here.¡±


    Kazuya, in his usual earnest manner, gave Ms. Cecile her glasses. She quickly took them and put them on. Cold sweat trickled down her back.


    ¡°As a homeroom teacher, I want to keep track of things, not because I¡¯m a gossip or anything.¡±


    ¡°What? Uh, do you know where Victorique went? I lost sight of her while looking for you.¡±


    ¡°Victorique? I-I don¡¯t know where she went.


    Kazuya frowned. ¡°Okay, then.¡± He walked away.


    After a moment of hesitation, Ms. Cecile went after him. ¡°Kujou!¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡± He turned around.


    ¡°Um, have you done your homework? I¡¯m sure you did. This is you we¡¯re talking about.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I finished them yesterday.¡±


    ¡°Of course you did. How are you feeling?¡±


    ¡°Wh-What? I feel fine. Just a little upset right now because I lost Victorique.¡±


    ¡°I see. Anything troubling you?¡±


    Kazuya froze. He was silent for a moment. But like a bursting dam, he said, ¡°I have a bunch of them, and they never stop coming. First of all, Victorique. She keeps whining about how bored she is, and how she wants me to cause an incident. She won¡¯t let me use the elevator, and she keeps on belittling me, calling me dumb, a simpleton, among other things.¡±


    ¡°Wh-What about Avril?¡±


    ¡°Avril? She¡¯s a very nice girl. I don¡¯t have any problems with her. Anyway, Victorique always has something to say about my gifts, and she gets mad with just a little poke at her cheek. Also¡ª¡±


    ¡°Anything else?¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­ Oh, I get a letter from my sister every other day, mostly just her complaining about my father and brothers. It literally never stops. My brother, on the other hand, sends me a book on oriental martial arts every day. One book is enough. They just keep on coming. I have no choice but to study martial arts every night after I finish studying and organizing things. And my mother has been sending a lot of pressed flowers for some reason¡­¡±


    ¡°Okay, I get it.¡±


    Ms. Cecile¡¯s head was spinning from all the pent-up stress that this kind-hearted oriental boy was releasing.


    With nothing more to say, Kazuya bowed and turned to leave, so Ms. Cecile quickly popped the question she really wanted to ask.


    ¡°So, what kind of girl do you like?¡±


    Kazuya slowly turned around.


    His face was bright red. Ms. Cecile shrank back in astonishment. Kazuya held his cheeks with the palms of his hands like a girl, and after a moment of fidgeting, he spun and bolted away at full speed.


    Ms. Cecile fixed her round glasses.


    ¡°¡­Huh?¡± was all she could say.


    ¡°Wh-What¡¯s wrong with her?¡± Kazuya mumbled as he hurried away. ¡°Seriously, where¡¯d that question even come from? Boys shouldn¡¯t be chatting about such things.¡±


    He staggered and almost fell. ¡°Besides, I-I don¡¯t even know what kind of girl I like¡­¡±


    Kazuya was walking along a wide pathway leading to the large U-shaped school building. The huge structure blocked out the summer sun, casting shadows on the pathway. He hurried past the building.


    The school building was quiet. He couldn¡¯t see any students or teachers in the corridors or classrooms from the outside. It was almost like the long summer break had already begun.


    Once vacation started, the school would be deserted like some archeological ruin. Having no plans for the summer vacation, Kazuya felt a little dejected. Two months were not enough for a trip back home, and too long for a period of relaxation.


    He sighed. ¡°Huh?¡±


    At the back entrance to the school building, on the three-step stairs facing the flowerbeds, he spotted the little friend he had been looking for¡ªVictorique de Blois¡ªsitting there. She had the golden book on her lap. She was thinking. Small colorful butterflies were fluttering around her.


    ¡°Victorique!¡± Kazuya called out to her as he trotted toward the stairs. ¡°Are you sure you don¡¯t have candy stuck on your dress or hair?¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡± Victorique lifted her head. Kazuya was diligently inspecting her long hair and layers of ruffles. ¡°Stop being so finicky!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve got macaroon powder on your butt. No worries, though. I¡¯ll clean it up for you.¡±


    ¡°Stop talking. Go away. You¡¯re distracting me.¡±


    Victorique slapped him on the cheek, and went back to thinking. Kazuya was stunned. He then lowered his hand and sat down beside Victorique. She frowned a little, but didn¡¯t say anything.


    ¡°What do you think is going on?¡± Kazuya asked.


    There was no reply. A wind blew.


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Victorique said.


    ¡°This creepy case. ¡®Cause honestly I¡¯m completely stumped. You say the alchemist is gone. But then, who¡¯s responsible for the murders in the clock tower? And what about that eerie presence inside?¡±


    ¡°Who knows?¡±


    ¡°The alchemist is not dead. He just disappeared. But where did he go? If he¡¯s dead, where¡¯s his body? And if he¡¯s alive, where is he? Maybe he¡¯s hiding somewhere very close by. Somewhere in the academy, for example. Otherwise, there¡¯s no way to explain the murders.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°No one knows what he actually looks like behind the mask. So if he returned secretly to the academy, no one would recognize him. Am I right?¡±


    Victorique only gave a low grunt in reply.


    The wind blew again, and the flowers danced.


    ¡°I¡¯ve known where the alchemist is right from the beginning,¡± Victorique suddenly muttered.


    Kazuya jumped. ¡°Wh-What do you mean? How¡¯d you know? Where is he?¡±


    ¡°The reconstruction is not yet done. The last piece still eludes me. Soon, perhaps¡­¡± She fell silent, staring at the golden book on her lap.


    Kazuya studied her face. Skin as fine and white as porcelain. A face so small and handsome that it could have been mistaken for a doll. Ruthless green eyes.


    Another wind blew.


    Kazuya stood up quietly so as not to disturb her, and left. Victorique simply sat there without saying anything.

 Volume 4 - CH 5.4

    While walking, Kazuya passed a large old man¡ªthe carpenter who had been working in the academy for twenty years. The man headed to the flowerbed, to where Victorique was.


    Curious, Kazuya looked over his shoulder, when suddenly, he saw red hair in the corner of his eye, and he quickly turned his attention toward it.


    From the flowerbed in front of the school building, he could see a tall man hurrying along the path in front of the clock tower, as if to avoid being seen.


    A strong gust blew the man¡¯s hat off. He looked up at the hat momentarily as it flew in the wind, but he did not follow it. Hair fluttering, he resumed walking, as though completely forgetting the hat.


    He was oddly indifferent about it. He didn¡¯t even try to pick up the hat. Another gust blew, ruffling the man¡¯s hair¡ªhair as red as flame, and just as fierce. The wind seemed to fan the dark flames even higher.


    Sensing Kazuya¡¯s gaze, the man turned around. Even from a distance, Kazuya could see the glint in his catlike, upturned green eyes, and his chiseled features, reminiscent of ancient sculptures.


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen him before,¡± Kazuya murmured.


    He didn¡¯t recognize the man this morning when he was brought to the clock tower by the inspector¡¯s men. But now, as soon as he saw the red hair and green eyes under the hat, he remembered him clearly.


    ¡°I saw him in Saubreme. At the pyramid-looking theater. He jumped out of a carriage.¡±


    The man stared back at Kazuya. Green and jet-black eyes glared at each other.


    ¡°Brian Roscoe! The red-haired magician with the Mechanical Turk!¡±


    A few weeks ago, Kazuya visited the capital of Sauville, Saubreme, to do some shopping. It was then that he saw the man, Brian Roscoe, in front of one of the theaters. His show was called ¡°Phantasmagoria,¡± and advertised tricks such as human dismemberment, the Mechanical Turk, and teleportation.


    The poster had read: Brian Roscoe, the Greatest Magician of the Century!


    The name sounded familiar to Kazuya. A mysterious young man who donated modern facilities to the village of the Gray Wolves deep in the mountains where Victorique¡¯s mother, Cordelia Gallo, was born and raised, was also named Brian Roscoe. He took something that Cordelia had left behind in the village and left a photograph in its place. A picture of Cordelia as an adult and her little daughter, Victorique.


    When he saw him at Saubreme, he thought it had to be someone with the same name. That he had nothing to do with Victorique or her mother. But this was too much of a coincidence. How could someone with the same name happen to come to St. Marguerite Academy, where Victorique was imprisoned?


    Kazuya gulped. The red-haired man pulled his eyes away and slowly disappeared into the clock tower.


    Kazuya clenched his fist. It has to be him. But what¡¯s he doing here?


    The clock tower was silent.


    The man, Brian Roscoe, slowly climbed the stairs, his green eyes glinting.


    He could hear the creaking and whirring of the clockworks in the distance. Listening carefully, Brian Roscoe stopped when his ears caught a different sound.


    He turned around slowly.


    A light set of footsteps, belonging to someone young and slim. The owner of the footsteps was trying to sneak into the clock tower silently, watching Brian Roscoe.


    Who could it be? Brian cocked his head so much that his neck cracked. Rage and suspicion fanned his flaming hair. What do they plan to do with me? Hmm, interesting. I¡¯ll play along.


    Brian slowly walked up the stairs. He padded down the dark corridor and entered the clockwork room.


    Whirr.


    The alchemist¡¯s workshop was gray and dreary, filled with dusty air all the way to the high ceiling. Like a giant blade cutting through the air, a pendulum swung slowly from side to side.


    Four huge clockworks were creaking in the corners, sounding like a monster screeching. They moved endlessly, intertwining, gears grinding against gears.


    It felt unreal, like stumbling upon a manufacturing plant straight out of a nightmare.


    Brian furrowed his brow and looked around the workshop. Then he listened again.


    Faint footsteps were slowly approaching, searching for Brian¡¯s presence. They walked up the stairs, down the corridor, and then stopped in front of the workshop, hesitating.


    Scared? Shaking? Fascinating. If you want to run away, I¡¯ll let you go. But who are you?


    Brian waited.


    But the owner of the footsteps did not leave. They quietly opened the door and stepped into the workshop.


    Brian jumped out from behind the door and extended his sturdy arm to the owner of the footsteps. He grabbed the stranger¡¯s surprisingly thin neck from behind and forced them to turn around.


    ¡°Hmm?¡±


    The stranger yelped and stared up into Brian¡¯s face. Brian, too, was startled as he regarded the owner of the footsteps¡ªa thin, lanky boy with jet-black hair. He appeared to be an oriental.


    There was fear, but also firm determination, in the boy¡¯s jet-black eyes as he stared back at him.


    Brian tilted his head curiously. He studied the boy¡ªKazuya Kujou¡ªfrom head to toe.


    ¡°Just a kid,¡± he said. ¡°And an oriental one at that.¡±


    Before he could pull his hand away, Kazuya twisted around and escaped from his grip.


    Brian gasped. He observed Kazuya closely, his brow furrowed in thought.


    Kazuya¡¯s dark eyes narrowed.


    ¡°I remember now,¡± Brian said. ¡°Saubreme. In front of the theater. We¡¯ve met there before, haven¡¯t we? Yes, when I brought in the Mechanical Turk.¡±


    ¡°Brian Roscoe,¡± Kazuya said in a low, wary voice. ¡°What are you doing in the academy? You¡¯re here for Victorique, aren¡¯t you? What are you going to do with her?¡±


    Brian grinned. He found the boy¡¯s mature manner of speaking amusing. His gaze then turned suspicious.


    ¡°What are you to Victorique?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m Kujou, Victorique¡¯s friend!¡± Kazuya bellowed in an attempt to mask his fear.


    Brian looked stunned for a moment, then started laughing.


    ¡°Wh-What¡¯s so funny?¡±


    ¡°Can you really blame me for laughing? Listen, boy, and listen carefully. Gray Wolves can¡¯t make friends. Maybe in that nameless village, but not in the city. Gray Wolves will never get used to people, and people are afraid of them. The only ones who approach them are those who want to use their powers.¡±


    Brian¡¯s voice gradually took on a sad tone.


    Various images popped in and out of his mind. The pain of living in the city as a Gray Wolf. The small figure of that woman he met, someone who shared the same blood.


    Brian¡¯s green eyes narrowed like a cat¡¯s, and he exhaled softly.


    ¡°That¡¯s not true,¡± Kazuya said in a trembling voice. ¡°Victorique and I are friends. Sure, she was unapproachable at first, and she still doesn¡¯t make any sense to me at all, but we¡¯re friends nonetheless.¡±


    ¡°Friends? With a Gray Wolf? Hahahaha!¡±


    Brian laughed hysterically.


    ¡°You think it¡¯s funny? Well, I don¡¯t.¡± Kazuya¡¯s face was serious.


    Brian stopped laughing and glared at the boy.


    The room was filled with the whirring of four giant clockworks, grinding, spinning endlessly. A faint breeze blew, ruffling Brian¡¯s red hair and Kazuya¡¯s jet-black hair. The huge pendulum swung idly.


    A lone red flower glistened among the yellows and purples on the stained-glass window. The large ebony table was littered with dusty lab equipment.


    An eerie workshop where time stood still.


    Brian licked his lips. His red tongue seemed a little longer than the average human¡¯s. Canine teeth peeked out from the corners of his mouth.


    An eerie, bloody smell suddenly filled the workshop. Brian thought Kazuya would leave now, but to his surprise, the boy stayed, never turning his back.


    I like it!

 Volume 4 - CH 5.5

    Brian leapt.


    Kazuya jumped to the side, and Brian landed where Kazuya had just been. He turned his head to look at Kazuya, licking his tongue like an animal who had found its prey.


    ¡°I just came here to check on her,¡± Brian said. ¡°A friend of mine had some business at this academy, so I took the opportunity.¡±


    ¡°Check up on who? Victorique?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I heard a rumor that the Gray Wolf was going to be transferred somewhere soon. I thought now was a good time to check, though I think they¡¯re growing up faster than expected.


    ¡°Are you talking about Victorique?¡±


    ¡°Not her body, no.¡± His voice turned dark. ¡°Her brain!¡±


    Hours earlier, in just one moment, Brian came to a realization.


    One day he met a fellow countryman in the city, Cordelia Gallo. She was small, beautiful, and somewhat strange. Something must have changed in her when she was forced to leave her home village and descend the mountain in fear. Brian had watched over his beautiful little compatriot as she worked as a dancer.


    But one night, a shady guest arrived in the audience filled with lively music, dancing, and coquettish voices. The guest found Cordelia, and she disappeared afterward. When they met again years later, Cordelia told him that she had given birth to a daughter in the tower of a certain nobleman¡ªthe guest from that night¡ªand that he had taken her away from her.


    Brian was terrified of the girl¡ªa girl born to a Gray Wolf and a human. The little girl, imprisoned in a tower, was transferred to St. Marguerite Academy. Rumors said that she might disappear from the school. Brian decided to come here to check on her. He had to see how she had grown up.


    Today, Brian found her. A little girl with an enormous, bizarre brain. A huge labyrinth that contained all sorts of knowledge, from ancient to modern, the beautiful to the ugly.


    The chosen Gray Wolf, and her magnificent power.


    And now the state had held her captive.


    Poor little girl.


    This had been the nobleman¡¯s goal from the beginning. When Brian realized it, he trembled with rage and shame.


    ¡°Growing faster than expected?¡± Kazuya breathed. ¡°Victorique hasn¡¯t done anything wrong. How can you say that?¡± The oriental boy¡¯s shoulders were shaking with anger.


    Brian found his face comical.


    I knew it, he thought to himself. Humans don¡¯t understand a thing.


    He was laughing so hard that he was foaming at the corners of his mouth. He could roll on the floor cackling at any moment. But he eventually calmed down.


    ¡°She hasn¡¯t done anything wrong? Of course, I know that. The problem is that the creature is being held captive.¡± His voice dropped low. ¡°Those who use the power of the Old Ones are enemies. We want peace and stability. Days of constancy. Eternal Middle Ages. That wish may not come true in this day and age, but we will resist and fight to the end. There are many other Old Ones besides the Gray Wolves lurking in the Old World. They¡¯re waiting with bated breath, thinking about the young cub trapped behind enemy lines. Change robs us of the freedom we¡¯ve enjoyed since ancient times. The child is Cordelia¡¯s daughter, and the blood of my people flows in her veins. But the other half of her blood is different. It¡¯s the blood of a nobleman working at the heart of this country. We cannot forget that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve verified it today. She¡¯s a monstre charmant. And her little head¡­¡± His voice trembled ominously. ¡°¡­is Europe¡¯s last and most powerful weapon.¡±


    Brian closed in on Kazuya, one step at a time.


    The clockworks whirred as they spun.


    Kazuya looked around the workshop.


    Brian licked his tongue. You¡¯re not going anywhere. Like a cat playing with a mouse, he pounced on Kazuya, narrowly missing him and then chasing him down again. He tried to grab his arm and pin him down, but the boy slipped away. He was no longer at the same spot. He followed him with his eyes. Kazuya leapt onto the table, grabbed something, and then jumped to the giant clockwork. Brian¡¯s brows furrowed in surprise at the boy¡¯s swift movements.


    Kazuya landed on the spinning clockwork, ran on top of it, and jumped to the next one.


    Brian jumped onto the clockwork, too, in pursuit of the boy.


    Kazuya jumped to the second clockwork. To the third one.


    Then he landed on the fourth mechanism. There was no more after that. Brian thought that he had caught up with the pesky rat. He grinned. But before he could jump to the fourth clockwork, the boy stopped and spun around to face him.


    Brian¡¯s eyes grew wide.


    The movement of the gears pushed Kazuya¡¯s body back toward Brian with increasing momentum. In his hand was a metal equipment that he had grabbed from the table. Using the speed of the clockwork¡¯s spin, the boy jumped at Brian and hit him in the face with the piece of metal so hard that Brian froze and covered his face with his hands.


    Just before he was sucked between two clockworks, Brian twisted his body and tumbled far down to the floor below, roaring like a beast.


    When he finally managed to open one eye, he saw the small oriental boy swiftly jumping down. His clear, jet-black eyes said he was solely focused on taking down the enemy before him. Unwavering black eyes with no hint of malice in them. Brian roared, and dodged to the right. Kazuya landed on the spot where Brian had just been. The metal equipment he was holding made a dull clunk as it dug into the floor, right where Brian¡¯s head had been a second ago.


    Kazuya turned around.


    The quiet but determined glint in his eyes sent a shiver down Brian¡¯s spine. He screamed in an attempt to drown out the fear, and, holding one eye, lunged at Kazuya. The boy leapt to dodge, but he followed, kicking his arm. The impact told him that he almost broke the boy¡¯s arm. The boy let out a yelp, but did not let go of the metal in his grip. Brian kicked him a couple more times. Finally, the equipment fell from the boy¡¯s hand. Before Brian could pick it up, Kazuya kicked it away.


    Kazuya then jumped up and mounted Brian. He raised his fist and punched the man in the face. But the punch made Brian realize that his bare hands packed several times more power than the boy¡¯s. He struck the boy back from below as hard as he could, hitting his left eye. Kazuya reeled back, feeling lightheaded.


    Brian got up and pinned Kazuya down. Right before he could hit the boy, he heard him shout something.


    He listened carefully.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare put Victorique in danger!¡± was what he seemed to be saying.


    Amused, Brian suddenly started laughing. He found the boy¡¯s sheer desperation both hilarious and oddly moving.


    ¡°Sure, I barely know anything,¡± he said. ¡°I don¡¯t know the circumstances of Victorique¡¯s birth, or why she¡¯s locked up in here. But I know one thing: Victorique is smart, but strange. She¡¯s an enigma¡­ but she¡¯s human. Just a little girl. She¡¯s not someone to be exterminated. I won¡¯t let anyone call her a monster, or a weapon!¡±


    Brian contemplated for a moment, then sighed, and got off Kazuya.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t expect her to have a knight in shining armor,¡± he said, cracking his neck.


    ¡°I want to protect Victorique. I¡¯ll keep her safe from the dangers around her.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± Brian grinned.


    The boy, face red with rage, glared at him.


    ¡°Can you protect her with that kind of power?¡±


    ¡°¡­What do you mean?¡±


    Brian closed his eyes. The world was too big a place, the power of a lone boy too insignificant.


    Slowly, he opened his green eyes. Kazuya was staring at him. The unwavering look in his eyes made Brian feel unusually sentimental.


    ¡°A big, big storm awaits the cub.¡± Brian murmured. ¡°That thing was born during the first storm. Birthed according to plan, to be used as a trump card for the second storm, the magnitude of which a single, kind-hearted boy can do nothing against. You will cry. Despair will eat at you. You will curse your own helplessness. Grief will change you. What will happen to you then? Will you still be kind? Or will you also become a little monster?¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine if you don¡¯t know. I think I¡¯ll observe for a while longer. Watch how the boy and the cub spend their peaceful days.¡± He exhaled softly. ¡°Which, I believe, won¡¯t last that long.¡±


    Brian turned on his heel, but before he could leave, Kazuya called him back.


    ¡°W-Wait a minute!¡±


    Brian turned around. He took something out of his pocket, handed it to Kazuya, and grinned. It was a poster for his performance. The boy did not look at it; he kept his gaze on Brian.


    ¡°Watch out for the transfer. Marquis de Blois is a fickle man.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    Brian smirked and opened the door. He brought his right hand in front of his face.


    ¡°Now I¡¯m gonna make myself disappear.¡±


    He snapped his fingers.

 Volume 4 - CH 5.6

    Kazuya stood in the middle of the workshop, staring at Brian.


    His whole body ached, his breath was ragged, and his mind was filled with agitation, anger, and suspicion.


    Brian Roscoe mumbled something and snapped his fingers. And then immediately he vanished.


    It was just like the scene in the horror movie The Illusion of the Black Tower. He thought he saw a wisp of smoke, but he couldn¡¯t be sure, and he smelled something sweet. After a moment of vertigo, he strained his eyes, and no one was there.


    Kazuya rushed to the spot where Brian Roscoe had just been standing.


    He was gone.


    He looked around the workshop, then opened the door, and stepped out into the corridor.


    He looked to the right, then to the left.


    The corridor was empty.


    He ran and peered down the stairs, which would¡¯ve creaked if there was someone there. But he saw no one. Kazuya ran around in the clock tower, then went outside and surveyed the surroundings.


    Brian Roscoe was gone.


    How?


    Kazuya stood frozen.


    The summer sun was glaring on him. It was hot outside, the sunlight intense¡ªa typical summer day. It was as if the gray workshop inside the clock tower was a whole different world.


    Kazuya suddenly remembered the poster that Brian Roscoe gave him. He opened it.


    It read: Brian Roscoe, the Magician of the Century, and the Mysterious Mechanical Turk!


    It was an advertisement for his show called Phantasmagoria. It featured Teleportation, Amputation, and Dancing Skeletons.


    The date and place said¡­ A theater in a town in England. There were three shows: one at 1:00 p.m., another at 4:00 p.m., and one last at 7:00 p.m. The dates were three days from yesterday to tomorrow.


    ¡°Weird,¡± Kazuya said. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t he be in England right now? But he was here until moments ago, and he was in the village yesterday.¡±


    He gasped, remembering something.


    The street urchin who was with him when he saw Brian Roscoe for the first time in Saubreme said:


    ¡°There¡¯s something off with that guy. There were a few times when it didn¡¯t seem like a trick, like he was really in two places at the same time. He would appear on one side of the road and the other at about the same time. He pretends to be a magician, but I think he¡¯s the real deal. I¡¯m curious about the Mechanical Turk, but that guy gives me the creeps.¡±


    Kazuya gaped at the poster.


    ¡°Two places at the same time?¡± he mused. ¡°I find that hard to believe. Hmm, he did vanish into thin air¡­ But if he can do that, he could¡¯ve committed the murder. If he could be at the inn and the clock tower at the same time, that is¡­ No way.¡± He shook his head, and heaved a sigh.


    Anxiety gripped his heart. He was worried for his friend Victorique. He felt restless, like he had a number of times before.


    Who exactly was Victorique de Blois?


    What¡¯s going to happen to her? What kind of fate awaited her?


    Maybe I¡¯m not strong enough to protect her. No, that¡¯s quitter talk. But what do I do?


    Kazuya stood still, anger flaring within him. A gust ruffled his jet-black hair. Dead branches groaned ominously in the wind.


    As Kazuya stood there, stunned, footsteps came running from behind him.


    ¡°Kujou!¡±


    It was Avril¡¯s voice. She sounded as lively as ever.


    ¡°Ms. Cecile told me you were looking for Victorique. I saw her talking to a huge carpenter behind the school building. Hello? Earth to Kujou?¡±


    Avril¡¯s cheerful voice brought him back to reality.


    ¡°Oh, sorry,¡± Kazuya said, turning around. ¡°I¡¯m listening. What was it again?¡±


    ¡°I said Victorique is over¡ªKyaaa!¡±


    Avril screamed when he saw Kazuya¡¯s face.


    Startled, Kazuya yelped in response. ¡°Wh-What was that scream about?¡±


    She pointed at his face. ¡°What happened to your face?!¡±


    ¡°What¡­?¡±


    Curious what she was talking about, Kazuya rushed to a nearby fountain and checked his reflection in the water.


    ¡°What the¡­¡±


    The top of his left eye was swollen, where Brian Roscoe punched him earlier.


    ¡°W-We have to cool it down!¡± Avril said.


    ¡°Good idea. A cold towel should do the trick.¡±


    Splash!


    Avril grabbed Kazuya¡¯s head with both hands and shoved it into the water. Kazuya thrashed about.


    ¡°We have to cool it down with water! We have to cool you down!¡±


    ¡°Av¡­ ril¡­!¡±


    Kazuya, flailing helplessly in the cold water of the fountain, was thinking of one thing only: the monstre charmant that Brian had told him about.


    Behind the school building of St. Marguerite Academy, at the three-step stairs where Kazuya and Avril usually hung out to chat, a small girl was sitting down, her luxurious dress billowing around her. She had a golden book, the alchemist¡¯s memoir, tucked under her buttocks, and was mumbling to herself with clenched fists.


    Colorful butterflies flitted around her, and even a few squirrels from a nearby thicket were scurrying around her tiny head and shoulders. Two little squirrels began wrestling over a single nut on her head. Victorique, ignoring everything around her, was lost in thought.


    Then, a large man appeared through a small pathway between the flowerbeds. When he saw that Victorique was all alone, he strode toward her.


    ¡°There you are, little lady,¡± the carpenter said as he sat down next to her.


    The stone stairs shook. Victorique, her green eyes widening in surprise, glanced at her side. The carpenter smiled at her.


    The difference in their body sizes was so huge that side by side they looked like a giant and a fairy. The carpenter took a rolled-up piece of paper out of his pocket, spat on his palms, and unfolded the parchment.


    It bore a detailed diagram¡ªa survey of the clock tower.


    ¡°Your effort is appreciated.¡± Victorique nodded grandly like a queen, and took the blueprint.


    The carpenter was stunned for a moment. Then he burst into laughter.


    ¡°Now this is hilarious! ¡®Your effort is appreciated.¡¯ You¡¯re one amusing pipsqueak.¡±


    He grabbed Victorique¡¯s head with his large hand, which he had spat on, and rubbed it adoringly. Victorique jumped like a stray cat being touched by a human for the first time and scrambled away to the top of the stone steps.


    ¡°D-D-Don¡¯t touch me!¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t explain the blueprint to you unless you come down here.¡±


    Victorique reluctantly went back down the steps. ¡°You didn¡¯t touch any of the stuff in the clockwork room, did you?¡± she asked in an annoyed, but slightly concerned tone.


    ¡°Nope.¡± The carpenter shook his head. ¡°Why do you keep warning me about it, though?¡±


    ¡°Because a monster still lurks in that workshop.¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡±


    The carpenter looked puzzled, and shrugged. He then proceeded to describe the clock tower in a booming voice that reverberated throughout the area.


    His voice lured Ms. Cecile. When she spotted Victorique, she came over.


    ¡°Listen closely, little girl. These are the results of the measurements. The blue lines are what I think should be the original plan. The black lines show the actual construction. I¡¯ve always had a feeling that something was off, but this was a surprise for sure.¡±


    Ms. Cecile peered at the blueprint. ¡°Oh, is that the clock tower? Hmm¡­ What¡¯s that little square box in the middle?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s most likely a secret chamber for the Protestants,¡± Victorique murmured.


    The teacher inclined her head, but before she could ask another question, Kazuya and Avril appeared from between the flowerbeds.


    Ms. Cecile turned to greet them, then froze when she saw Kazuya.


    He was soaked from the head down, and his left eye was black and swollen, as if someone had hit him. Victorique cast him a glance and stifled a laugh.


    ¡°What happened to you?¡± Ms. Cecile asked with concern.


    Kazuya glanced at Victorique hesitantly. He tried to say something, but decided against it.


    ¡°It was Avril,¡± he said, pointing at his friend.


    Ms. Cecile¡¯s wide-eyed gaze darted back and forth between the two. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Y-You¡¯re making it sound like I wanted to hurt you. I was trying to cool you down,¡± Avril protested.


    ¡°I almost drowned!¡±


    Victorique stood up and started walking, her frills swaying around her. Kazuya, Avril, and Ms. Cecile quickly followed her.


    ¡°Where are you going?¡± Kazuya asked.


    Victorique turned around, confused. ¡°The clock tower, where else?¡±


    ¡°To do what?¡±


    ¡°To solve the mystery.¡±

 Volume 4 - CH 5.7

    Kazuya gasped. Avril and Cecile exchanged curious looks.


    ¡°Does that mean¡­¡±


    Victorique glanced at Kazuya, who was dripping wet.


    Kazuya saw in her face liberty, freedom for a moment from the long weariness, boredom, and despair that always enveloped her. He had seen this look several times in the past.


    She wore the same expression when she finished picking up the fragments of chaos, playing with them, and reconstructing them. Victorique was not bored now. She had played with the mystery and solved it.


    Kazuya swallowed. ¡°You figured it out, didn¡¯t you? You solved the mystery of the Leviathan, the man who, more than twenty years ago, built an alchemy workshop in the clock tower to manufacture gold and get close to the king and queen, and how he disappeared after being shot with poisoned arrows by the Royal Knights. The mysterious murders that started happening around the same time. The victims died in the workshop, locked from the inside. None of them were students or staff of the school, but travelers and trespassers. And¡­¡±


    Avril nodded and continued. ¡°The ghost of Leviathan wandering the clock tower. Doors open and things move on their own even when no one¡¯s there. Also there¡¯s a shadow passing outside the second-floor window.¡±


    ¡°About that¡­¡±


    Ms. Cecile intervened before they could start arguing. ¡°Now, now. What about the mystery behind Leviathan¡¯s mask? The biggest mystery, though, is the murder.¡±


    The three shared glances and turned to Victorique.


    Her cherry lips parted, and she yawned, looking bored.


    ¡°Kujou, newt, you¡¯re with me,¡± she said in her husky voice. ¡°Cecile, you go and find that dumb detective with the drill for a head. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    ¡°Go where? The clock tower?¡±


    ¡°Yes. To check something. Kujou.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Very well. Come with me.¡±


    Victorique started walking toward the clock tower.


    ¡°I believe there are two reasons why there are so many ghost stories about the clock towers,¡± Victorique began. ¡°First, a mysterious alchemist did, in fact, live in the building at one point.¡±


    The group¡ªVictorique, Kazuya, Avril, Ms. Cecile, and Inspector Blois and his men, a total of seven people¡ªopened the door and made their way down the dark corridor. They could only see each other¡¯s silhouettes. The dust in the air stung their eyes.


    Victorique¡¯s husky voice reverberated oddly everywhere.


    ¡°And the second is the sensation that you¡¯re feeling right now.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Kazuya asked.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you feel dizzy, like someone is putting pressure on you?¡±


    They all looked at each other.


    She was right. From the moment they entered the clock tower and started walking down the corridor, they felt dizzy, and their sense of balance went haywire.


    ¡°I asked for an accurate survey of the clock tower. This diagram is the result. My guess was right. Take a look.¡±


    Victorique stopped and, relying on the faint light from the window, unfolded the blueprint. They all peered into the odd sketch. A long, narrow cylindrical tower with a chamber of clockworks in the center. The tower drawn using blue lines looked completely normal, but the black one looked bizarre, distorted hideously.


    It was tilted, warped as if a giant hand had crushed it, and looked like it could collapse at any moment.


    ¡°Wh-What¡¯s going on here?¡± Kazuya murmured.


    ¡°The blue lines represent the original plan. And the black lines show the actual construction. Do you get it now? This is the cause of the strange sensation. The clock tower is warped. The sketch shows why you feel dizzy as soon as you start walking down the corridor. As you can see, the floor of this corridor is not parallel to the ground, but tilted ever so slightly. It looks straight to the naked eye, but it meanders little by little. The corridor becomes narrower as you go further inside, making it appear longer than it actually is. In other words, what we perceive through our vision and what our body feels are not the same. That¡¯s what makes you feel queasy.¡±


    Kazuya and the others looked at each other.


    Victorique folded the sketch and resumed walking. She turned a corner and started up the stairs.


    ¡°And these stairs. When Cecile and I came here, she stumbled around this area.¡±


    Ms. Cecile scratched her head in embarrassment.


    Kazuya recalled the time Avril tripped at the same spot and tumbled down the stairs, screaming.


    ¡°The stairs are also deliberately crooked. Common sense dictates that each step of the stairs should have the same height. But not here. The height of each step is slightly different. It is why you trip as you go up and fall. This can also explain the silhouette crossing outside the window on the second floor. This second floor is lower than how we perceive it. We might be going up the stairs, but the corridor we passed before actually descends a little, so this floor is lower than expected. It was that huge carpenter who passed by the window. Not a ghost, nor a giant.¡±


    Victorique made it on top of the stairs and stopped in front of the clockwork room.


    The door was open.


    ¡°It¡¯s the same reason the door opens even when no one is there. When someone enters the tower and starts walking down the first-floor corridor, this door opens, most likely because of the skewed layout. As for random things moving by themselves, the slanted flooring¡¯s the culprit.¡±


    Victorique had Ms. Cecile remove her glasses and placed them on a chair.


    As everyone watched, the glasses moved slowly and fell to the floor.


    A forbidding silence fell over the clockwork room. Giant mechanisms whirred in the dim workshop.


    The huge pendulum, slowly swinging above, produced an eerie breeze.


    ¡°But why build the tower like this?¡± Avril murmured.


    ¡°Elementary. Check the sketch again.¡±


    Victorique unfolded the blueprint and pointed to a spot.


    At a small square area.


    A room not found inside the blue lines. On the warped, black-outlined sketch, there was a small square space next to the clockwork room.


    ¡°The tower was built slanted to accommodate a hidden room. They adjusted the heights and the angles a little to create a space not found on the original plan.¡±


    ¡°For what?¡±


    ¡°To hide Protestants, most likely.¡±


    Victorique turned around and stared at the area where the secret room was supposed to be.


    On the other side of the large ebony table was a colorful stained-glass window in the colorless gray of the workshop. It depicted bright flowers in full bloom¡ªyellow, purple, and a single red one.


    ¡°Temples and houses built in the Middle Ages often had hidden rooms, secret passages disguised as fixed windows, and various other mechanisms. This academy has been called the secret armory of the Sauville royal family since the Middle Ages. All sorts of things were concealed, stored, and developed here. Weapons of the future, people who should not be alive, secret assets. I suspect there are other hidden rooms on campus besides this one.¡±


    Inspector Grevil de Blois, who had been silent for some time now, clicked his tongue. He shot his sister a scornful glare, cold sweat beading on his forehead.


    Victorique cast Inspector Blois a cursory glance. The inspector looked away first.


    ¡°I think, back in the Middle Ages, this clock tower was used to hide things. But these days, only a few people know about that. Now let us talk about the gold, the same gold mentioned in the song. We turn back the clock about fifty years to the end of 1873, when the Africans died.¡±


    Victorique suddenly kicked Kazuya, who was standing next to her, in the leg.


    Kazuya jumped. ¡°Ouch!¡±


    ¡°Sing, Kujou,¡± she ordered.


    ¡°No way¡­ Wait, sing what?¡±


    Victorique¡¯s shoulders shook. ¡°The African song, what else?¡±


    ¡°No. Why is it always me? Ow! Fine¡­¡±


    Kazuya endured the shame and straightened his posture. Putting his hands on his hips, he started singing softly.


    Africans say,


    March, march I say!


    Till the hens sing!


    Till the stars fall from the torn roof!


    Du da du da doo¡­


    Even in dreams


    March, march I say!


    Du da du da doo¡­


    From afar, the Africans came.


    They walked, and walked, all the way.


    Walk, walk I say!


    Du da du da doo¡­


    Africans came from across the sea.


    They rowed their boats, rowed their boats, all the way.


    Row, row I say!


    Pretty sisters, mother, and father!


    Flesh and blood is cheap, bread is expensive, but keep on rowing!


    Du da du da doo¡­


    Gold and black skin


    Row, row I say!


    Du da du da doo¡­


    The Africans leapt over the scorching land,


    screamed, and disappeared.


    When he finished singing, Kazuya shut his mouth, feeling embarrassed. Everyone regarded him silently in surprise.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking,¡± Victorique said. ¡°You¡¯re oddly good at singing.¡±


    ¡°How is it odd? Anyway, I¡¯m not doing this ever again! Boys shouldn¡¯t be dancing and singing in public¡ª¡±


    ¡°Hush. That¡¯s enough from you. Shut your mouth and look unspeakably sad.¡±


    Kazuya closed his mouth and did as he was told.


    ¡°The lyrics contain several fragments of chaos,¡± Victorique continued. ¡°The African song, which had been sung in the village for about fifty years, mentions gold. Where did they come from, and for why did they ¡®walk¡¯ and ¡®row¡¯ to this village? What does gold and black skin refer to? And finally they ¡®screamed¡¯ and ¡®disappeared.¡¯ But what does it mean?¡±


    Kazuya and the others exchanged glances.


    ¡°No idea¡­¡±


    ¡°We know that they died and were buried in the village cemetery at the end of 1873. Which brings me to my next point, an important event in history.¡± Victorique grinned. ¡°This event holds the truth to the Leviathan¡¯s terrifying mystery. He did not create gold using alchemy. Recall your history.¡± She paused. Her ruthless green eyes gleamed, as if staring into the void. ¡°1873 was the year the gold rush started in the African continent.¡±


    The group let out a collective gasp and glanced at each other.