GosickS
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—a 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.
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.
Chapter 46: Volume 2 - CH 3.4
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…”
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—a 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.”
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.
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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.
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.
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.
“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.
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