GosickS
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—to 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—the main street, it seemed—was 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—the 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.”
Chapter 39: Volume 2 - CH 2.1
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 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—to 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.”
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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.”
“…”
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—the main street, it seemed—was 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—the 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.”
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