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A Secret Sleeps in the Forest – Part 05

“There’s no hazelnut trees in this forest, Kujou,” Victorique explained as they left the woods. “In short, it should not have been on the ground.”

“So what does that mean?” Kazuya asked, trotting behind her.

“It was the hazelnut thrown at the late Alan.”

“Okay…”

“By the way, where’s Mildred?”

“H-How should I know?” Kazuya replied in surprise. “Probably in her room.”

“Hmm…” Victorique yawned.

For a while, the village was in a state of confusion, but the villagers continued the festival nonetheless.

Ambrose spotted them. “Elder Sergius insists that he shot a wolf, not a man,” he said with a sigh.

Victorique was silent for a while, staring curiously at Ambrose’s face.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“Me?” Ambrose opened his mouth, but closed it again, as though afraid to answer. He was silent for a while, searching for the words, then like a broken dam, he went on. “I can’t say. No one saw Mr. Raoul fall. But if I were in Elder Sergius’ shoes, I would suspect that maybe I had killed him. No one saw a wolf. If I want to insist that I’m innocent, I need proof.” Staring at Victorique, he hesitated for a moment. “Whether you’re guilty or innocent, proof is necessary.”

His words seemed to be directed not only at Sergius, but Cordelia Gallo as well.

Victorique nodded. “Exactly.”

There was an air of sympathy between them.

“By the way, Ambrose,” she added. “You want the Midsummer Festival to go off without a hitch and eradicate the root of this evil, yes?”

“Of course.”

“Chaos churns in the nameless village, and I hold all the fragments of its cause. If I can reconstruct the pieces, I can solve the mystery. Most of the time I toy with them to stave off boredom, and very rarely do I verbalize them in a way that others can understand. Why? Because it’s tedious. It’s like asking an adult to explain a very complex problem to a child. It’s bothersome, so I seldom verbalize it. Only Kujou right here can convince me to do it every time.”

“Really?” Kazuya said, a little surprised.

Victorique turned her face away, ignoring him.

“So you don’t normally explain things, but you do if I ask? I see…”

“Shut up,” Victorique growled.

Kazuya shut his mouth quick. “S-Sorry…”

“Um, what do you mean by that exactly?” Ambrose asked, puzzled.

“I know who the culprit is,” Victorique answered.

“What?! What do you mean?! I thought it was Elder Sergius who shot Raoul.”

“If I said you were wrong, what would you do?”

“But he fired his rifle back then…”

“He did, but how do you know that it was his bullet that hit Raoul?”

“I, uhh…” Ambrose went silent. His face took on a strange look. He was staring silently at the ground, wearing a blank and unreadable expression.

“Ambrose, would you like me to verbalize the reconstructed piece?”

“Uhh… I’m not sure I follow.”

“She’s asking if you want to know who the culprit is,” Kazuya translated.

“I-I see… Yes, of course.” Ambrose’s voice was hard.

“Then lend me a hand.”

“Lend a hand with that?”

“I will find who killed Alan and Raoul. In return, you will help me reconstruct the fragments of the chaos from twenty years ago.”

“Twenty years ago… Do you mean Elder Theodore’s murder?”

“Yes. The culprit is someone else. But to prove it, I need both your help.”

“Wait, both? Both who?” Kazuya asked curiously.

“Ambrose and you, Kujou.”

Kazuya and Ambrose exchanged glances.

Victorique’s eyes gleamed coldly, green flames blazing within. “I sometimes use the reconstruction of chaos in making deals. In exchange for my solving a mystery, I demand appropriate compensation.”

Kazuya remembered the first time he met Victorique. She had demanded that Kazuya bring her some rare food in exchange for the truth of the incident he was involved in. When he mentioned it, she chuckled.

“I would not count that as appropriate compensation,” she said. “I usually demand a greater and more painful sacrifice. A habit of mine since I was young. I tried to make my demands as devilish as possible. To stave off my boredom, of course.” She laughed, remembering something. She looked like she was having a lot of fun. “That is why Grevil despises asking me for help.”

“Ah, I get it now.” Kazuya nodded. He understood a little more about the siblings now. He recalled the conversation he had with Inspector Blois earlier. “Speaking of which, he mentioned something about a loan shark.”

“I believe he meant me.”

“He looked angry.”

Victorique gave a shrug.

---

Evening came.

The Midsummer Festival went on, and the time when the villagers’ ancestors were supposed to return through the cathedral was approaching.

One by one, the priests and young men on guard at the cathedral left and gathered in the plaza. After leaving the cathedral empty, they would wait for their ancestors’ return. Once they arrived, the final event would begin, where the villagers showed their bountiful harvest.

As the sky darkened, several large torches were erected in the square, illuminating the old cobblestones and the villagers dressed in medieval attire. The place seemed even brighter than during the daytime.

Victorique, Kazuya, Ambrose, and a few of the village youths, were hiding with bated breath in the cathedral, behind the petal-strewn benches.

The building was currently unoccupied. It was so quiet that they could even hear the crackling of the torches in the square. It was humid and much colder here. Sweet fragrance wafted from the scattered flower petals.

The cathedral, which was dark and somber even during the day, seemed even darker and colder. Pale moonlight spilled in through the rose window. Orange light from the torches in the square filtered through the stained glass, faintly illuminating the floor. Once their eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, they were able to make out each others’ faces.

Victorique gave a small sneeze. Kazuya almost sneezed too, but held it in.

“Why are we here?” Kazuya asked in a whisper.

“Because the culprit will come here,” Victorique replied.

“What do you mean?”

“There is always someone in the cathedral, and the only time it’s empty is now, when the spirits of their ancestors pass through. The culprit will use this opportunity to steal.”

“Steal?”

“Steal what?” Ambrose asked. “There’s nothing worth stealing in this village.”

“You might not know this,” Victorique said grimly, “but some things are valuable old. On the one hand, humans seek out new stimuli with insatiable desire. On the other, they’re also odd creatures that value old and rare things. Things created in the past are different from those of today, and their numbers decrease over time. Thus, collectors are willing to pay any amount for them. Kujou, you remember the Dresden plate, don’t you?”

Kazuya nodded. He recalled the plate on display at the bazaar. It was very old and looked like it would break at any moment, but there was something about it that fascinated him. When he asked Mildred about its price, the price shocked him. Mildred proudly declared that it was because of its age.

“For some people, this village is a treasure trove. There are many old and valuable items here that collectors would covet for any amount of coin. The old cabinet in the room, the cracked statue of Mary, and the old silverware for our meals. And… Ssh!”

The massive wooden doors of the cathedral opened silently, and someone slipped into the darkness. Their stealthy footsteps echoed faintly on the tiled floor.

Whoever it was tread softly, trying their best to not make a sound. Light from the torches in the square fell on the mysterious figure, casting a thin and long shadow on the floor that reached all the way to the stone ceiling. The shadow wavered as it came closer and closer.

As the figure passed by the bench where they were hiding, moonlight from the rose window illuminated their profile briefly. There was a thin smile on their waxen face.

Squinting, Kazuya saw the culprit’s face in the darkness.

“No way! Him?!”

“Do you remember what Mildred said about the vase being submerged in holy water?” Victorique asked.

Kazuya thought about it for a moment and nodded. Last night, Mildred ranted to them.

The men entered the cathedral and dropped an old precious vase into a large basin of holy water. When all three of them did the same thing, the villagers became furious. They said that they only value what’s new and can’t appreciate the real value of things.

Victorique shook her head. “It’s the opposite. Those three knew its value better than anyone else. That is why, when they first entered the village, they exclaimed as soon as they saw the cathedral’s ancient steeple and rose window. They all had this reverent look on their faces. That was how they actually felt. Captivated. All the subsequent boasting about their watches and radios and insulting the village as old-fashioned were nothing but lies. Alan, Raoul, and Derek, were the most knowledgeable about old things. They must have been thrilled about the Midsummer Festival.”

“Then why did they say all those things?!” Ambrose snapped.

Instead of answering, Victorique raised one hand and pointed to the shadowy figure.

“Because they were thieves.”

Kazuya and the others gasped.

The silhouette stepped into the chapel. They fumbled around in the darkness and lifted an old vase with both hands.

“They dropped the vase into holy water,” Victorique mumbled. “Not as a joke, of course. They meant to do that. They were looking for a real antique. They had come all the way here after reading the ad in the newspaper, expecting to find valuable antiques in the hidden settlement of the legendary Gray Wolves. The reason they dropped the vase in the water was to see if it would float or sink. If it was real, it would sink, but if it was a plated fake, it would float. The vase sank. It was the real deal.”

Victorique stood up. “The jig is up, Derek.”

The man gave a start. He was holding a vase with great care, breathing heavily. He stared at Victorique as she appeared from the darkness. His face was cold and blank, as though he were a completely different person from the one who wept over his friend’s death earlier today.

Derek broke into a run, heading straight for the door through the bench. Scattering flower petals, Kazuya leapt out of the bench and tackled Derek as he approached. The man was protecting the vase, so his movements were slow. He shot Kazuya a terrifying glare and attempted to escape once more. Kazuya grabbed his leg and pulled hard. Derek groaned as his head slammed into the cold stone-tiled floor.

Ambrose and the stunned youths jumped out a second later and pinned Derek down. Colorful petals danced in the air. Several people surrounded the man and held him down to prevent him from escaping. One of the young men ran out to call the villagers.

Derek hugged the vase close, as though he didn’t want anyone else having it.

“This is mine,” he said, sniffling. “Mine. I found it. I’m going to take it back to town… and ride away in my car. Not Alan… or Raoul. Me!” He looked like a spoiled child.

Looking down at him, Kazuya noticed something rolling off of Derek’s clothes. He crouched down and picked it up.

It was a hazelnut.

When he showed it to Victorique, she nodded. “Yes. It’s a hazelnut. Do you get it now?”

Kazuya shook his head “Nope. Not at all.”