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After the Party

A Tale of Rabbits and Two Storms

“So far, I get it. But…”

A tall brick building in the center of Saubreme, the capital of the kingdom of Sauville.

In front of the massive Charles de Gillet station, a modern structure made of black iron and transparent glass, was a huge intersection where black cars and carriages sped past.

No one could have known that just a few hours earlier, at dawn, when the morning mist covered the gray sky of Sauville, a runaway train had threatened to destroy Charles de Gillet Station, the pride of modern architecture of the Kingdom of Sauville, the little giant of Europe. That a little girl and an oriental boy averted the crisis by firing a gun together.

The night had dawned, and the warm rays of the morning sun were illuminating the city of Saubreme. An autumn breeze blew softly. A sophisticated noblewoman with a parasol was sauntering along the pavement with a gentleman. Glamorous display windows were filled with dresses, hats, and shiny ladies’ shoes, showcasing Europe’s prosperity to the fullest. But on the street crouched a street urchin, face blackened with dirt, waiting for passersby to toss coins with dark, vacant eyes.

The light and darkness of the city. Modernization and ancient culture. The cars and horse-drawn carriages that slipped past each other, sounding their horns and whistles, seemed to symbolize the old and new forces locked in a battle in Saubreme, each trying to tip the scales to their side. The Academy of Science and the Ministry of the Occult.

That morning, in a historic brick building towering in the center of the glamorous city of Saubreme, in a large room on the fourth floor of the police station, a man folded his arms and spoke.

“Everything before that, I understand. But…”

He was leaning against the wall, striking an oddly seductive pose like an impeccable beau. Silver cufflinks adorned his well-tailored suit. His leather shoes were polished to a shine, and he wore a sparkling silver choker around his neck, his silk shirt slightly exposed.

His hair, a dazzling golden color, was protruding forward like a cannon, parted in two like a crocodile’s mouth, where a deep darkness lurked. The two drills shook up and down, as if disliking the oriental boy—Kazuya Kujou—staring at them eerily.

He was carefully holding an elegant porcelain doll with blonde hair in his right arm and a wonderful oriental-style one with black hair in his left. Peering into their faces, striking poses while shaking his head up and down like a busy father caring for his twins, the man—an illustrious officer in the Saubreme Police, famed inspector Grevil de Blois—continued.

“But Kujou… Hey, stop staring at it. Nothing’s gonna come out.”

“Sorry. I couldn’t help it. It felt profound, or something.”

“It’s just hair. It’s nothing profound. Anyway, let’s get back on track.”

“Really, though. What’s up with your head? Going through some difficult times? Or you’re so happy that you added another one?”

“Why would I add another one?! Where’s your common sense?!”

Irritated, Inspector Blois turned his back away from Kazuya. But no matter how many times he turned, the boy kept following him around and staring at his hair. He glanced at his sister—Victorique—for help.

She had changed out of her apron dress into a luxurious green taffeta dress that her brother had brought with him. Adorned with glossy green ruffles and black crochet lace, the dress became narrower from the waist down like a tulip, then spread out at the hem, fringed with black laces. Her golden hair cascaded down to the floor. Her appearance overshadowed the porcelain doll in Inspector Blois’s hands, which were expensive enough to buy a large mansion.

She was smoking a white, ceramic pipe grumpily. A thin wisp of smoke slowly rose to the ceiling.

Sensing a gaze, she glanced at her brother with sharp and cold eyes.

“Quite an amusing hair you’ve got there, brother,” she said.

“All thanks to you, sister.”

The siblings’ fine eyebrows twitched. Victorique turned away first, snorting. Inspector Blois, influenced by his sister, gently placed one of the dolls on the table, picked up his own pipe and lit it. Thin wisps of white smoke drifted toward the ceiling from the pursed lips of both Victorique and Inspector Blois.

Around them were young detectives, fresh out of school, watching with bated breath. Young and capable, they had been urgently convened to investigate the Old Masquerade Incident that had occurred earlier in the day, but at the moment, they were entranced by Victorique de Blois, the sister of the famous police inspector Grevil de Blois, a tiny golden girl with the mystic presence of some ancient creature.

“Apparently, they’re siblings,” one whispered.

“No way…”

“Look…”

The siblings had their backs to each other, blowing their pipes in a very similar gesture. And for some reason, the brother was holding a doll clothed in an extravagant dress.

The detectives exchanged glances, puzzled.

“I kinda see it…”

“And I kinda don’t…”

“Right…?”

“Yeah…”

“What is it exactly…?”

“But Kujou,” Inspector Blois said, raising his voice.

“Like I’ve been saying,” Kazuya answered, finally turning his gaze away from the inspector’s head. “Last night, we escaped from the water pouring in through the sluice gate that Simon Hunt had opened and got on the transcontinental train, the Old Masquerade, just in the nick of time.”

“I get all that. But… Why did a murder take place on the train? How was the woman killed? Who’s the culprit?”

“…”

“Start from the beginning, Kujou.”

“I can explain what happened.”

“Start talking, then. The department has tasked me with handling the Old Masquerade case.”

Stealing glances at the two drills on top of the Inspector’s head, Kazuya straightened up and took on a serious tone. “But we’ll have to start from when we boarded the train and introduced ourselves. The victim had a small, mysterious red box with her.”

---

After listening to Kazuya’s account, Inspector Blois went silent, occasionally striking poses.

He’s absolutely clueless, Kazuya thought. The Sauville police detectives, however, watched him with great trust. After all, Inspector Blois was a well-known and admired police inspector who brilliantly solved the Ghost Ship Queen Berry case, which was thought to have gone cold, and Jeantan’s Dark Auction case. His achievements had been featured many times in newspapers.

Seeing the detectives and their expectant looks, the inspector changed poses, troubled.

“Ahuh.”

He blew his pipe and glanced up at the ceiling with a distant look. The anxiety brought tears in his eyes.

“So, the victim insisted that there was an enemy among the people in the compartment. And in the middle of a game of Pick a Raisin, that someone poisoned her. On the verge of death, she ran to the driver’s cab, shot the engineer, and destroyed the brake valve. Fortunately, the engineer survived, but a lot of mysteries remain unsolved.”

“Yeah.” Kazuya inclined his head. “No one could have known who would pick up which raisin from the bowl. In short, I think it was just a coincidence. Besides, the others were munching on the raisins before her, and they were all fine.”

“Hmm, I see.” The inspector glanced at his sister.

Kazuya turned around as well.

Sitting in one of the best fluffy red chairs in the police station, which had been prepared by the young detectives for the lovely intruder, Victorique was blowing her pipe languidly. Noticing their gazes, she looked at Kazuya and Inspector Blois, then turned her face away again.

“Ah,” she gasped, and began studying her brother. Inspector Blois raised one of his legs in expectation.

Victorique’s green eyes were glassy as she pondered something. Silence reigned in the room. A moment later, she nodded to herself.

Inspector Blois stared at her. “What is it?”

Victorique pointed a chubby finger at the inspector. “I got it. An albatross.”

“What?” Kazuya blurted. “Ah, I see. His weird hairdo does look like a bird’s beak, huh? I thought it would start squawking any moment. For once, we agree on something… Hey, Inspector. Your face is all red. Are you… angry?”

Inspector Blois was shaking. “You told me to add another one,” he snapped. “As a man, I followed your order without question. What’s with this treatment? Because of you…”

“Inspector?”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine. Let’s continue the investigation,” he said calmly, tears in his eyes. “Our findings revealed that none of the raisins in the bowl were poisoned. It would mean that only the raisin she picked was laced with poison. As you said, there was indeed a red box among the victim’s belongings. But it was empty.”

“Empty?”

“Yeah.” Inspector Blois made a gesture, and one of the detectives nodded and left the room. Shortly after, he returned with a red box in a plastic bag.

Kazuya nodded. “I believe that’s the one. But you say it was empty?”

“It was.”

“Then she was killed over an empty box?” Kazuya glanced over at Victorique, who was quietly puffing on her pipe. He couldn’t tell what was on her mind.

“About the communications room, where you said you heard a strange voice that sounded like it came from the underworld. It was indeed full of communications equipment, and there were signs that it was being used to contact someone. We’re still examining the train. We’ve brought the three people who were with you to the station to take their statements. It seems one of them tried to escape, but I’m glad you caught them. We’re just about to get their statements.”

“We already gave our statements, but I guess we can’t leave yet?” Kazuya asked.

Inspector Blois looked appalled. “Of course not! My sister aside, you, Kujou, are one of the prime suspects. You were present when the victim put the poisoned raisin in her mouth.”

“What?!” Kazuya exclaimed.

I see… Personally, I don’t really mind, but I want to escort Victorique back to the academy safely. Now what?

In contrast to Kazuya’s gloomy mood, Inspector Blois was all smiles.

The inspector snapped his fingers and pointed at the boy’s face. “You look upset.”

“Of course! Hey, Victorique.”

Victorique glanced up, blinking in surprise. “Kujou, can I go home before you?” she asked with a serious face.

“What?! You’re leaving me here alone?!”

“It’s boring here, and I’m hungry.”

“Why, you…” Kazuya’s face turned grim. “May I remind you that I traveled all the way to that dreadful monastery to get you? Now you just want to leave me behind? Where’s your humanity?”

“Shut it, Kujou.” Victorique wrinkled her shapely nose and exhaled sharply. “I was only joking.”

“What’s more… Oh, you were joking? Sorry for getting mad, then. Also, what was that, are you hungry?”

Kazuya searched his breast pocket, his pants, scratched his head, and even took off his shoes before finally admitting that he didn’t have a single piece of candy with him.

“Can you get her something sweet?” he asked a nearby detective.

“This is a police station, not a café.”

“Something sweet.”

Pressured by the boy’s hard tone, the detective shrank back and left the room. He brought a pile of his own chocolate bonbons and quietly handed them to Kazuya.

After thanking the man, Kazuya turned to Victorique. “Here you go.”

“Your effort is appreciated.”

“Smug as always, I see.”

Victorique started eating, smearing chocolate all over her mouth.

“So who killed the Orphan with the poisoned raisin? And how?” Inspector Blois murmured grimly. “Who was the culprit, the Jack who infiltrated the masquerade ball? And what was their motive? Is Kujou the culprit? If he is, he will, of course, face jail time. No windows, no bathroom, and on top of that, rats will feast on your neck.”

“Please don’t scare me like that.”

“Where does the truth lie?” The inspector suddenly dropped his voice low so that the detectives could not hear him. “It’s your time to shine, Victorique.”

“I knew you were gonna count on her to solve the case for you!” Kazuya snapped. “Can’t you at least use your own head a little?!”

Flustered, the inspector looked around. “Ssh!”

Wearing a stern look, he leaned his upper body forward to intimidate Kazuya, pointing his sharp drills at him. But it was what’s on his head that drew the boy’s attention, not his face. Kazuya’s jet-black eyes blinked repeatedly, fascinated by the profound darkness between the drills.

The more he peered into them, the more he felt terrified.

A bottomless, dark abyss.

“V-Victorique…”

“If you’re scared, just look away,” Victorique huffed.

“R-Right. It’s just so… captivating.”

“I take it you don’t like the albatross Grevil?” Victorique asked. Something seemed to be in her mind.

Kazuya nodded firmly. “No. How do I put it… It’s extremely sinister. Especially the dark part.”

“I see.” Nodding nonchalantly, Victorique removed the pipe from her mouth. “Grevil.”

“What is it, my sister?”

“Get rid of that weird hairdo. Kujou doesn’t like it for some reason, and I’m sick of looking at it too.”

“You little…!”

Inspector Blois gritted his teeth. He tossed the doll in his arms and darted toward his sister, but Kazuya quickly subdued him by locking his arms.

Dumbfounded detectives watched the strange and ghastly sibling squabble.

“Sick of looking at it?! It hasn’t even been thirty minutes since you saw it! I’ve had my hair like this for days. It’s a pain in the butt to set. It takes me two whole hours in the morning just to fix it. Harden, dry, harden, dry, harden, dry… over and over!” There were tears in his eyes.

“That’s not important right now,” Kazuya said offhandedly.

“What? Did I hear that right? Did you say it’s not important?!”

“Okay, maybe it is. But only to you. Anyway, the murder on the Old Masquerade comes first. Take their statements.”

“You’re right…”

Inspector Blois stopped his rampage. He let out an embarrassed sigh, and wiped his sweaty forehead with a lace handkerchief he pulled out of his breast pocket. He put on a bashful smile.

“I got a little worked up,” he said.

“It’s okay. Let’s talk about your stupid hairdo later. For now—Whoa!”

The inspector pointed the drills at Kazuya again, causing him to jump. Inspector Blois’s eyes were misty and sharp. He gestured at the detectives, and they got up uneasily.

One of them turned around. “Who should we call first?” he asked.

Inspector Blois looked at Victorique. “I’ll let my sister decide,” he said, a little flustered. “She’s still a child, but um, she has so much respect for her brother that she’s showing some interest in criminal investigation. Ahem.”

Kazuya looked up at Inspector Blois in disappointment. The detectives nodded, a little surprised, and stared at the lovely, doll-like intruder. Inspector was extremely restless.

Victorique yawned. “Anyone will do. It doesn’t really matter which card we flip first.” She glanced at Kazuya. “Kujou, who’s the one you’re most friendly with?”

“Um.. That would be Gideon the Lumberjack, I guess. He’s the closest in terms of age, too.”

“Very well. We can start with Gideon.”

The detective nodded and shuffled out the room.

---

An awkward, stifling silence fell over the room. Brother and sister, one with magnificent golden hair hanging to the floor and the other set in a weird shape, had their backs turned to each other, smoking their pipes in silence. Two wisps of white smoke rose toward the ceiling.

After a while, the door opened. A young man of about twenty, with the appearance of a member of the nobility, entered, accompanied by a detective. The same young man who attended the strange masquerade ball as a Lumberjack. He looked completely exhausted, but when he saw Victorique and Kazuya, he smiled in relief. Kazuya nodded at him.

The young man sat at a table in the center of the room. Placing his hand on the Bible presented by the detective, he mumbled, “I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.” He hung his head down, a little embarrassed, and nodded to himself.

“Now, then,” Inspector Blois began. “First, tell us your name. And then, I’d like you to tell us what happened last night and early this morning in as much detail as possible.”

“Okay.” The young man nodded grimly. He looked at Kazuya, then at Victorique. He smiled a little, relieved that his fellow travelers were present. Then he opened his mouth and said his name. “My name is Gideon Legrant. I’m a student of architecture at the University of Sauville. That’s right. It goes without saying that I am not, in fact, a lumberjack.”