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Dreadful Things Occur on the Staircase’s Thirteenth Step – Part 01

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Translator: Kell

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Darkness.

The air was dry.

A bundle of primroses, moist with night dew as if they had just been plucked from the field, swayed in the darkness.

Holding it to his chest was a young man, dressed in the clothes of a medieval knight, breathing softly.

A voice sounded, quiet as a sigh.

“I… will… be…”

The voice grew quieter.

“…with… you… forever…”

The primroses lost their luster and wilted away, as though the voice had sucked the life out of them.

In a dark, locked space, the knight lay motionless, holding a bundle of flowers and breathing quietly.

There was no other sound.

A moment later, the voice came again.

“I will be with you forever.”

Several years later…

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A beautiful spring afternoon.

St. Marguerite’s Grand Library.

A tube-shaped tower soaring high into the sky. A spacious hall with a high ceiling, with huge bookshelves covering the walls. A slightly humid air that could only be described as smelling of books.

It was one of the proud structures of St. Marguerite Academy, a prestigious school built deep in the mountains of the Kingdom of Sauville, also known as the Little Giant of Western Europe. It was said that the then-king intentionally built the high, winding stairs to be a labyrinth for his trysts with his mistress.

Near the ceiling of the large library was a curious conservatory, lush and green, illuminated by the light pouring in through the skylight.

As with any other day, a wisp of white smoke was rising from a white ceramic pipe. A girl was narrowing her emerald eyes at the smoke, lost in thought. Petite in figure, she looked so beautiful that she could have been mistaken for a doll.

Her long, magnificent blonde hair cascaded to the floor like an untied velvet turban, and a pink braided ribbon hung down from her tiny back like a folded bird’s feather. A thick book lay open on her knees, over a luxurious dress, puffed up with layers of white lace.

Books were spread open around the girl in a circle, with pink marshmallows scattered among them, for some reason.

The girl suddenly shifted.

The riveted leather door of the library flung open, and someone entered.

Looking down from between the railings, the girl furrowed her brows faintly.

Her pale green eyes were impossible to read; she seemed both an innocent child and an old woman who had lived far too long. Leaning her small body against the railing, she peered downstairs, but the expression on her miraculously handsome features was as still as a cold doll, tinged by ennui.

Meanwhile, the visitor…

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“I really don’t want to see her… What do I do?”

They were standing in the hall of the library, grumbling.

Kazuya Kujou. Fifteen years old. A boy from a country in the Far East who, thanks to his excellent scholastic standing, was invited to study in Sauville. He had had a difficult time making friends over the past six months because of a popular horror story among the students about a traveler coming in spring and bringing death to the academy. Thus he had been nicknamed the ‘Reaper’.

Just three days ago, when he became inadvertently involved in a murder case, he met a mysterious girl (actually a classmate of his, but she had never attended classes, instead spending her time in the library) who lived on top of this library. She used her intellect—her Wellspring of Wisdom, she called it—to save him from his predicament.

“Hmm… I’d really like her opinion about something. But I don’t really know her that well, and she’s kind of scary. She might not even like me.” Kazuya sneezed.

Although it was spring already, the wind still carried with it the chill of winter. As he sniffled, something fell down from the top.

A white, feather-like object.

It was a tissue paper.

Kazuya took it and blew his nose. He stared at the paper for a while, deep in thought, and when he realized that the person above must have dropped it, his eyes first widened in surprise, and then he smiled. He looked up.

“Victorique!” he called. “It’s me, Kujou!”

He cheerfully ran up the labyrinthine stairs.

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Several minutes later…

Panting hard, Kazuya placed a hand on the railing, exhausted from climbing the long flight of stairs.

“Hi, Victorique,” he greeted the girl smoking a pipe. “Thanks for the tissue.”

“…”

Victorique did not reply; her face was buried in a book.

Kazuya sat down beside her. “Also, thanks for the help the other day.”

“…”

“So, uh… I actually need your opinion on something.”

“…”

“Hello? Are you listening?”

There was no word from her for a while. Her doll-like face conveyed only a detached coldness. Kazuya waited impatiently for a reply.

“Don’t get too friendly with me,” she said icily. “It’s annoying.”

“Wh-Why not?!” Kazuya snapped, his anger flaring.

“You’re the Reaper, aren’t you?”

“R-Right! About that!”

Startled by Kazuya’s loud voice, Victorique’s eyes, still fixed on the book, widened slightly. The cold expression on her face, veiled with ennui, lit up a little.

“I’m not the Reaper. It’s her!”

“…Who?”

“Her name is Avril Bradley. An exchange student from England. She seems to be an ordinary cute girl at first glance, but she actually has a secret…”

Victorique held out a hand, still not looking at him.

“Hmm? What’s with your hand?” Kazuya stared curiously at her palm, small as a child’s. “What is it?”

She did not answer. She only waved her hand repeatedly.

“Tsk. I get it. Unusual food, right?”

This girl, whose favorite phrase was ‘boredom is my worst enemy’, would not listen to what Kazuya had to say unless he offered her some exotic food that would keep her occupied. So before heading to the library, Kazuya returned to the dormitory and rummaged through the packages he received from home, searching for some rare snacks that lasted a long time.

While the earnest side of him wondered if this would be considered bribery, Kazuya took out a small bag he had brought with him.

“Here you go,” he said. “These are snacks my sister sent me. It’s called kaminari-okoshi.¹”

For the first time today, Victorique lifted her head. Placing the book on the floor, she put her hand inside the bag curiously.

Like a critter carrying food in its arms, she happily stuffed the snack in her mouth.

She chewed. “Why is it so outrageously hard? Is this a delicacy?”

“No idea. So, anyway…” Kazuya peered into her face.

Victorique sighed. “Fine. If you want to talk about it so badly, go ahead.”

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That morning, Kazuya left the boys’ dormitory at the usual time and, keeping his back straight, headed for the school building.

It was a fine morning. The sweet fragrance of flowers wafted in from the colorful flowerbeds on the campus that resembled a French-style garden. Kazuya, who usually walked at a brisk pace, slowed down that morning, unknowingly, and gazed at the flowerbeds and green trees.

“Hmm? Uh, you’re the guy sitting next to me. Kujou, right?”

When he reached the front of the school building, a girl called to him. He turned around and saw a familiar girl standing there. She had short blond hair and slender arms and legs. She was a beautiful, lively-looking girl.

Avril Bradley, a classmate who just recently came from England as an exchange student.

“Wanna head to the classroom together?” she said.

Avril walked alongside Kazuya, oblivious to his shy nature. There was a refreshing smile on her distinct, mature features.

“I heard you’re also an exchange student,” she said.

“Y-Yeah…” Kazuya nodded, a little nervous.

Walking side by side, he realized that Avril had quite the large build. She was just as tall as Kazuya, a boy, and had a solid physique more reminiscent of a grown woman than a young girl.

Kazuya wondered if she was really fifteen years old. Avril continued talking cheerfully. She did not seem to care about him being quiet.

“Don’t you think this school’s kinda weird?” she said. “It’s old, so are the buildings, the gardens, and the dorms. The school I went to in England was modern, so this is very new to me. Hey, did you know there are lots of horror stories here?”

“Are you talking about the Springtime Reaper?”

“What’s that? What I heard was something about not stopping at the thirteenth step of a staircase. Apparently a teacher who hanged himself on the thirteenth step will drag you to the afterlife.” Avril laughed heartily. “Ghosts are not real. Imagine believing in that sort of thing.”

Apparently, this foreign student was not a believer in horror stories and superstitions.

“But it’s kind of fascinating, isn’t it? It got me excited. I thought: Avril’s adventure is about to begin! You see, my grandfather was an adventurer. Do you know Sir Bradley? He drove a jeep to Africa and rode a balloon across the Atlantic.”

The name sounded familiar. Kazuya thought he had read about him in a newspaper article.

“Although, he disappeared along with the balloon.”

Ah, that story.

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