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—the 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—Kazuya’s room—was 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.