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Those Who Vanish Into the Darkness – Part 01

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Translator: Kell

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—Bedroom 2—

“Achoo!”

It was a beautiful sunny day outside, and the sun was beating down on the intricate gardens spread across the campus of St. Marguerite Academy. At the farthest end of the gardens, past a hidden labyrinth of flowerbeds, was a small building—a candy house of some sorts, it seemed—that lay silent and still. The blinding midday sun barely penetrated through its windows.

The bedroom was dim, bobbin lace curtains draping over the French windows.

The feather comforter on the canopied bed was bulging. It squirmed a little. The bulge was small enough to make one wonder if it was a kitten that was hiding underneath.

“Achoo! Achoo! Achoo!”

The bulge quivered with every sneeze.

Victorique was dreaming under the covers.

In the dream, she was in a dark, circular room, books covering the walls. A small rocking chair, a table, and a bed peeked out from between the piles of books.

There was no exit. It was the room in Marquis de Blois’ tower, where Victorique had once been locked up. The round floor seemed to float in the air. Only a precarious ladder staircase from far below connected her to the world. Three times a day, a young maid brought tea, meals, and extravagant dresses. Once a day, the old butler came with a stack of new books.

In her dream, Victorique, who was twice as small as she was now, had her eyes downward. Wrapped in an elegant dress, she was reading a book on her lap, relying on the light shining through a square skylight far above her head.

I’m bored. Bored. Bring me more books. More.

Fearing the wrath of the Gray Wolf, the Blois family continued carrying piles of books up the tower. Victorique, a child of only ten years old or so, kept moaning ominously, stamping her feet on the floor. Her husky voice seemed to shake the whole tower itself.

I’m bored. Bored. Give me something. Something to free me from this everlasting world of boredom. Give it to me!

Holding their breath, the Blois family shuddered as the creepy, husky voice echoed throughout the tower, night after night.

“Achoo!”

After a rather loud sneeze, the covers rustled. A small golden head peeked out from inside the comforter.

Usually her glossy hair cascaded down her back like an untied velvet turban, but today it was such a mess that it was hard to tell which was her face and which was the back of her head. When she sneezed again, her hair bounced, revealing a little bit of Victorique’s face.

Her rosy cheeks were crimson and puffed up.

Victorique moaned as she rolled across the bed. “Pain… so much pain…”

Breathing hotly, she reached for something on the bedside table with shaky hands. Her lips, redder than usual, parted.

“I… I…” Her dream—no, the distant memory tugged at her. “I’m booooored,” she mumbled in her husky voice.

She reached for the pile of thick books nearby with quivering hands. Her vision was a little blurry. When she finally managed to pull the book into her hand, a broad smile appeared on her red face, and she started flipping through the pages.

A second later, she looked teary-eyed.

“I already… read this yesterday!”

She reached for a different book from the pile.

“Aaaaahh!”

Her blurry vision caused the entire stack of books to collapse. There was a series of thuds as all the books fell on the carpeted floor. Victorique hurried to get up, but she had no strength to do so. She peered over the bed and stretched her trembling hand, but she couldn’t reach the books.

Victorique’s face twisted in frustration. She turned over.

“Kujou,” she groaned. “Pick them up.” She sniffed. “I’m bored. So bored.”

“Kujou,” she groaned once more, and in a voice tinged with sadness, she added, “He’s not here, huh?”

She burrowed herself into the covers. The small, opulent bedroom was quiet now, devoid of human presence.

Outside the window, a small bird flapped its wings.

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Ms. Cecile came through the flowerbed maze. She was carrying her teaching materials, textbooks, and a notebook.

As she stepped into the candy house, she peered into the small bedroom with a worried frown.

“How are you feeling?” she asked. “Oh, my.”

Victorique was hunched up in the middle of the big bed, her face buried in a book, forcing herself to read. Her hot breaths brushed the pages.

Ms. Cecile looked aghast. “You have to rest.”

“Great timing, Cecile.”

Victorique, her face crimson, rose unsteadily and pointed to the book she was reading.

“I was just reading a journal written by a certain priest in the Middle Ages,” she said breathily. “Achoo! He was a young priest who liked keeping a diary, which has served as a good source of information about life in those days.”

“Is that so?”

Victorique groaned at Ms. Cecile’s lack of interest, but regained her composure and continued.

“A problem arose on the night a bishop from the capital arrived at the temple located deep in the mountains of Sauville.”

“Ahuh…”

“Hngh… According to his journal, on such an important night, there was a theft in the village. Silverware was stolen from the house of a wealthy merchant. The merchant saw a man from his window running away.”

“Oh, no. Silverware is expensive.”

“Keep quiet and listen. A pig was also stolen from a farmhouse. The villagers were distressed. Why did these incidents have to occur the night the bishop was in the village? They wanted to show how pious they were. Outraged, the villagers immediately apprehended the likely suspects for each incident.”

“That’s great,” Ms. Cecile remarked.

“The men who allegedly stole the silverware were drifters. The villagers believed that they planned to sell the stolen goods in a different town. And the pig was allegedly stolen by a poor farm boy.”

“…”

“They were about to be judged by the angry villagers. The young priest described what happened that terrible dark night in great detail.”

“…”

“Right when they were about to be judged, the bishop arrived at the village. And then…”

Ms. Cecile took the thick book that Victorique was holding.

Victorique stared at the teacher with surprise. “What are you doing?!”

“Sick people should stay in bed. I’m confiscating your book.”

Victorique looked like she was about to cry. “S-Stop. I’m still in the middle of my story. You dunderhead!”

“I’m not a dunderhead, I’m your teacher. Get some rest now.”

Ms. Cecile held the book high above her head. Victorique tried to retrieve the book, but small as she was, she couldn’t reach it. She bit her red lips in frustration.

“I hate you!” she shouted.

“And I hate sick people who don’t rest.”

“Kujou would…” Victorique’s swollen cheeks puffed up even more. “Kujou would have listened,” she said melancholically.

The teacher chuckled. “Yes, he would have. But I’m not Kujou, so I won’t listen to you. Get under the covers and close your eyes. Don’t move around! I’ll be back later.”

Ms. Cecile hurried out of the bedroom.

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Chapter 3: Those Who Vanish Into the Darkness

“What on earth are you talking about, Kujou?”

Sauville Metropolitan Police Department.

The large brick building’s exterior was generously adorned, the entranceway lavishly decorated, but the interior was quite simple and practical. Footsteps echoed endlessly through the wide corridors as the staff bustled about.

In a spacious conference room on the fifth floor, Inspector Grevil de Blois, his golden drill-shaped hair glistening, was leaning back on a chair with a laced porcelain doll at his side. He seemed to be in the middle of a speech. He was wearing a frown, irked by Kazuya’s uninvited presence.

Around him sat a group of rugged-looking men, detectives from the police department. Kazuya whispered the situation to the inspector.

“What does that even mean?” Inspector Blois huffed. He flipped the doll and peered inside its dress. Shocked, Kazuya watched him from a distance.

“I see she’s wearing underwear.”

“Inspector! Listen to me!” Kazuya bellowed. “A girl in such a place asking for the police is weird, no matter how you slice it. There’s clearly something going on here!”

“…”

“Inspector!”

It didn’t seem like Inspector Blois would budge even a little. He began pulling on the doll’s undergarment.

The door to the conference room opened, and a man entered.

He had shaggy hair and his out-of-fashion suit said he didn’t care about what he wore. It was hard to estimate his age—he seemed somewhere between early twenties to mid-forties. He was wearing a pair of oddly-shaped square glasses, but behind those glasses, Kazuya noticed, were narrow eyes that were startlingly bright.

The moment the man stepped inside, Inspector Blois sprang up to his feet and pushed the porcelain doll to Kazuya. Astonished, Kazuya fixed the doll’s undergarment.

“Commissioner Signore!” one of the detectives said.

The man of ambiguous age was apparently Mr. Signore, the Police Commissioner of the Sauville Metropolitan Police. Mr. Signore looked at Inspector Blois and the oriental boy by his side, who was earnestly fiddling with a doll’s underwear.

“Long time no see, Grevil,” the man said. “Mostly because you never come to visit. Didn’t you receive my invitations?”

“Uhm, I had a lot on my plate…”

Kazuya was surprised. Apparently the two were longtime acquaintances. But while Mr. Signore spoke without reservation, Inspector Blois, for some odd reason, had his gaze downward the whole time.

Come to think of it, on the train to Saubreme, he mentioned Mr. Signore being a dull man…

“By the way, Grevil, I’ve heard about your exploits as a police officer. I look forward to what you have to offer in this case. Saubreme is quite unsafe at the moment.”

“Is that so? It’s different from the countryside, I suppose.”

“That, it is. As in all of Europe, since the end of the last century, heretical practices and unfamiliar cultures from the colonies have become popular among the common folk. It has been on the wane since the Great War, but there are reports of Satanists now lurking in Saubreme, so we’ve been very busy with that. But from what I’ve heard from your accomplishments, crime is not limited to urban areas. It must be the times. I would like you to share your exceptional case-solving abilities with us.”

Inspector Blois nodded proudly. Kazuya looked around. The other detectives in the conference room seemed to respect Inspector Blois as well. They were listening to their conversation with proper posture.

Kazuya nudged Inspector Blois and whispered, “Now, Inspector!”

“Now, what?” the inspector whispered back.

“Jeantan. There’s definitely something going on there.”

“I’m busy right now.”

“Maybe I’ll tell them about Victorique’s Wellspring of Wisdom.”

The inspector dragged Kazuya to the end of the room and began cursing in a whisper. Not to be outdone, Kazuya whispered back. They argued for a while, but eventually the inspector gave in.

“Fine,” the inspector said. “We’ll suspend the meeting and head to Jeantan.”

Mr. Signore and the detectives’ curious gazes darted between Inspector Blois as Kazuya dragged him out of the conference room, and the porcelain doll sitting on his desk.

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