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.