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Victorique de Blois is a Gray Wolf – Part 05

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Translator: Kell

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The light streaming through the garden’s skylight slowly waned as clouds drifted in and blocked the sun. A brief moment later, the sun came out again, softer than before, shining on the three. A gentle breeze blew past, rustling the large, thick, tropical leaves a few times.

“So, the Dresden Plate on display at the church bazaar vanished into thin air,” the inspector said, staring straight at Kazuya. “The police searched the shoppers, but they couldn’t find anything. The plate was about the size of a man’s head. It wasn’t something that you could easily hide in your clothes.”

“I know that. I was there,” Kazuya murmured. “Why don’t you ever look at Victorique?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I only came here to ask you, a witness, some questions. It seems there’s someone else here, but I can’t really see them. Now, then…”

Inspector Blois sat back down with his left ear pointed in Victorique’s direction so he could hear her. His pointy hair glittered gold under the light of the sun.

Victorique continued reading. A glimpse of the book’s title indicated that it was the same book she had mentioned earlier, a history of Eastern Europe from ancient times to the Middle Ages, written in dense and fine letters. She was leafing through the pages swiftly.

She looked up and yawned, seemingly bored out of her mind. “Like I said, Kujou, the culprit was someone right beside you.”

“Who?” Kazuya asked curiously.

Inspector Blois leaned forward, pushing him away. “I get it. It’s the foreign exchange student!”

“Why would Kujou’s companion steal the plate? And she was searched along with him. There was one other person beside Kujou. The only one who wasn’t searched. Think.”

She buried her face back into her book. Kazuya and Inspector Blois looked at each other, and racked their brains.

“One other person… You mean the nun?” Kazuya said.

“Yes.” Victorique nodded. She returned to her world of books, like she had forgotten about the two.

A few seconds of silence passed. Victorique, smoking her pipe, lifted her gaze.

Kazuya and Inspector Blois looked as if they wanted to say something, and were waiting for Victorique to notice them. Victorique removed the pipe from her mouth, picked up a macaroon lying on the floor with her other hand, peeled off the wrapper, tossed it into her small mouth, munched on it, took a breath, and said, “Why are you staring at me?”

“We’re waiting for you to verbalize your reasoning.”

“You don’t get it?!” Victorique regarded them with a look of pure astonishment.

She put the pipe back in her mouth, took a drag, then pulled it away again. After exhaling a puff of smoke, she reached for another macaroon and tossed it in her mouth, munching away. “You two are really stupid.”

“What did you say?!” Kazuya snapped.

Victorique’s eyes widened in shock. Inspector Blois’ face turned violet with anger, and he fell silent.

“The nun is the only person who could have stolen the plate,” Victorique said. “At least, going by what you’ve told me, Kujou. Listen carefully. As soon as your companion picked up the small music box at the nun’s suggestion, it broke apart. It was designed that way. At the same time, a white pigeon flew out from inside, drawing the attention of all the villagers in the square. But the pigeon did not actually come out of the music box.”

“What do you mean?”

“It came out from under the nun’s skirt.”

“H-Her skirt?”

“Kujou, you said it yourself. A nun, who’s supposed to be proper and modest, was sitting with her legs spread like a man. You found it odd. There was a reason for that. She was hiding something between her legs.”

Kazuya recalled the scene that day. The nun sitting with her legs spread open. Her body garbed in a stuffy navy blue nun’s habit, long enough to cover even her feet.

“She probably prepared some kind of container between her legs and put the pigeon inside. The moment a shopper came and picked up the music box, she would lift up her skirt and release the pigeon. If they timed it right as the music box exploded, it would look like the pigeon came from inside. While the villagers were distracted by the pigeon, she would hide the plate in her skirt, then scream that the plate was gone.”

Kazuya, astounded, glanced back and forth between Victorique and Inspector Blois.

“But the nun’s the one running the bazaar,” he said. “Why would she steal her own goods?”

“You’ll have to ask her that. You mentioned that she reeked of alcohol. Sounds like there’s more to her than meets the eye. Besides, the items sold at a bazaar are the property of the church, and the proceeds of the sale would not go to her. Including her in the list of suspects makes sense. And…”

“Yeah?”

“Her habit and shoes need to be examined thoroughly. You said that her black leather shoes had white stains. Those were probably droppings from the pigeon she hid under her skirt. How would pigeon droppings get on her shoes that were supposed to be hidden by her long habit? I doubt she would have a convincing explanation.”

Victorique gave a weary yawn, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She stretched, then returned to the world of books.

Kazuya cast Inspector Blois a sidelong glance. Usually, he’d scurry out of there as soon as he learned the truth, but for some reason, he was deep in thought, arms folded and wearing a stern expression.

“Inspector? Is something wrong?” Kazuya asked.

“Darn it.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, it’s nothing!” The Inspector rose to his feet and walked toward the elevator.

He looked over his shoulder once, looking like he had something to say, but he kept his mouth shut and entered the metal cage.

“Inspector?”

“…”

Clang! Clang Clang! The elevator descended.

Inspector Blois’ quick footsteps on the ground floor gradually faded. Once it was quiet, Kazuya turned to Victorique.

“By the way…”

“…Hmm?”

“Who’s Cordelia Gallo? Why was the Inspector so surprised?”

“…”

Victorique turned her back on him and buried her face into her book. Kazuya clicked his tongue, picked up a macaroon, and popped it into his mouth.

The sun was slowly going down. The wind had stopped blowing, the leaves quiet and still once more.

A thin wisp of white smoke rose from Victorique’s pipe to the skylight.

A heavenly tranquility blanketed the conservatory, as it had for the past three hundred years.

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The next morning.

Kazuya woke up in his dorm room right on time.

The boys’ dormitory was specifically designed for the children of nobility, each individual room luxurious and comfortable. Desks and beds made of fine mahogany. Closets with beautifully-embroidered curtains. Pitchers made of polished brass. Floors covered with soft and fluffy carpets.

Only one boy occupied each room, so they were usually a little messy, but Kazuya’s room was always neat and tidy, and if there was even a speck of dust, he would pick it up and throw it in the trash.

That morning, Kazuya woke up, washed his face, changed his clothes, organized his bag, straightened his back, and went down to the dining hall on the first floor. Since most of the other male students were asleep until the last minute, he was usually the only one—at most there would be three of them—there.

The sexy, red-haired dorm mother was sitting cross-legged on a wooden chair in the corner. She was reading the morning paper, holding a cigarette in her mouth with a frown.

When she saw Kazuya, she got up and served him a breakfast of bread, fruit, and lightly-sauteed ham. Kazuya thanked her, and started eating, stealing glances at her all the while. When she noticed, she asked, “Wanna read it?” and handed him the paper.

Kazuya read the morning paper from cover to cover as he ate his breakfast. “Huh? Something’s not right.” He looked puzzled.

Just yesterday, Victorique solved the mystery of the Dresden Plate theft. Inspector Blois usually took credit for solving the crime as soon as he learned who the culprit was. But this case was different.

The Great Inspector Blois Admits Defeat! The Missing Dresden Plate Nowhere to be Found.

They clearly had not caught the nun.

“That’s odd. He usually arrests the culprit right away and the next morning’s paper is filled with praise for him. What’s going on here?”

Now that he thought about it, Inspector Blois was acting a little strange before he left yesterday. His face was pale, he was unusually quiet, and he looked like he had something to say.

“Hey, Kujou.”

Kazuya looked up and saw the dorm mother beckoning him over.

“Yes?”

“You know the classified ads at the bottom of the morning paper? I always love reading that section.”

“Why is that?”

“Because it’s interesting. There’s ads addressed to runaway girls, job hunts, and every once in a while there’s a questionable ad that smacks of crime. And today…” She pointed at the ad section.

Kazuya scanned the content, and inclined his head. It read…

Descendants of the Gray Wolves.

Midsummer Feast is near. We welcome you all with open arms.

It was followed by a brief description of the route to a small town called Horovitz, near the border with Switzerland.

“What is this?” Kazuya asked.

“I have no idea. But the Gray Wolves are a popular stuff of legend in Sauville. You know how different countries have their own folklore, like vampires and the Yeti. In Sauville, it’s said that silent Gray Wolves live deep in the elm-covered mountains.”

“They say that Gray Wolves are way smarter than humans,” she eagerly added. “So when a child that was too smart was born, the mother would be accused of bearing the child of a wolf and kicked out of the village. Well, that was a long time ago.”

“Hmm…”

Kazuya remembered the story about Victorique being the reincarnation of a Gray Wolf. He had always wondered why they called her that, and now his questions were answered, if only a little.

It’s because she’s too smart.

“Oh, morning!” The dorm mother looked up. Noble children who woke up later were coming down the dining area.

As soon as they spotted Kazuya, they cast their eyes downward and silently sat down far away from him. Kazuya had gotten used to it. He stood up, not paying them any attention.

Casting a sideways glance at the dorm mother serving food to the students, he left the dining hall. As he walked down the corridor, he remembered the advertisement.

“Maybe it’ll help kill her boredom,” he mumbled to himself, then returned to the dining hall. “Can I borrow the paper?”

“You can have it,” the dorm mother said. “I’ve already read it.”

“Thank you.”

Tucking the paper under his arm, Kazuya left.

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