Chapter 48: 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—he 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.

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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—her mini-suitcase, which he had used as a chair—and 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—cream-colored with brass cabriole legs—with 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—a sparkling ivory comb, a rose-scented soap, and a gold-rimmed makeup mirror—from 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.

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