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Alone Together on New Year’s Eve – Part 01

Several days passed, and it was now the 31st of December, 1924.

The early hours of New Year’s Eve.

The tranquil campus of Saint Marguerite Academy was veiled by pristine white snow.

“It’s taken forever. Gathering fifteen mysteries isn’t exactly a walk in the park. She can be so mean!”

Muttering under his breath, Kazuya Kujou burst out of the boys’ dormitory door with a spring in his steps.

Wearing a warm gentleman’s coat and a bowler hat, he unfurled a large black umbrella, shielding himself from the heavy snowfall. He set off along the path covered in a thick layer of snow with measured strides.

The fountain, the gazebo, and the once vibrant autumn flowerbeds now lay beneath a white blanket, slumbering peacefully. The vast French-style garden lay largely deserted.

The gardener could be spotted in the distance, retreating somewhere, shoulders hunched against the biting cold.

Kazuya’s breath came out in clouds of white.

“Let’s go over the mysteries I’ve found since then.” He began counting on his fingers. “Why are there mice in the school building, but not the dining hall? The mystery of the one tilted gazebo. That’s twelve and thirteen. Hmm, right. The baker that repaints their bicycle weekly for reasons unknown. That’s fourteen… Only one more to go. So tough. Every day, I keep counting, but she just glares at me, as if telling me it’s not enough.”

Kazuya hung his head wearily as he trod the snow-laden path.

From the heart of the academy, where the large U-shaped building stood, the terrain sloped gently towards the garden’s corner. The pathway narrowed, and the snow-draped, bare branches of trees stretched like black arms, encroaching from either side. A chill wind swept through.

Abruptly, Kazuya stopped and gazed up at the majestic tower looming before him.

A monumental stone tower, home to an array of books amassed since the Middle Ages, known as Sauville’s shrine of knowledge. A dark and silent presence that voraciously consumed priceless volumes from all corners of Europe.

Saint Marguerite’s Grand Library.

This massive structure, which had stood as an observer of countless histories, human struggles, and the ever-shifting fortunes of the kingdom, stood in stillness on the final day of 1924.

Kazuya smiled faintly. “I wonder if she’s there right now.”

With a cheerful spring to his steps, yet maintaining a steady and measured pace, he drew closer. The tower stood eerily quiet, overwhelming any approaching visitor. Kazuya placed a hand on the riveted leather door and cautiously peered inside.

Yet, in that very moment…

“…Huh?” He froze.

The interior of the library tower appeared largely unchanged. Except for one detail.

Winter’s damp and chilly air permeated the expansive hall. Every wall was filled with an array of books from various eras and corners of the world, silently observing those who ventured within. A complex web of wooden staircases connected the floor to the lofty ceiling, which was adorned with grand religious paintings.

On the topmost level, green leaves seemed to be swaying. An illusion, perhaps.

Within the familiar confines of the library tower, roughly three levels up the labyrinthine stairs that Kazuya had ascended time and again, stood a familiar odd fellow, striking an impeccable pose.

A resplendent white frock coat that arrested attention. Lily-shaped silver cufflinks. Pointed riding boots, the latest in fashion. Handsome features and vivid green eyes.

His hair style, however…

His magnificent blond hair had been fashioned into an odd shape, with the ends directed forward and twisted in a peculiar manner.

Kazuya discreetly closed the swing door, hoping for an unnoticed exit. However, a voice brimming with joy called out to him from behind.

“Oh, if it isn’t Kazuya Kujou!”

“…”

“Good morning! Fancy meeting you here.”

Heaving a sigh, Kazuya reluctantly stepped into the library tower.

This man was Inspector Grevil de Blois, Victorique’s half-brother. Working as an inspector at the village police station, he was originally dispatched to the academy by his father, Marquis de Blois, to watch his sister. After his first love, Jacqueline, married Mr. Signore, Sauville’s police commissioner, Grevil, in addition to being his sister’s guardian, took on the role of inspector at the village police station in a somewhat competitive stance.

However, behind Inspector Blois’s remarkable achievements in solving incidents in the village lay the intellect of Victorique de Blois, Europe’s greatest brain, hidden within Sauville’s secret armory that was Saint Marguerite Academy.

Today, too, Inspector Blois seemed to have come seeking his sister’s brilliant insights, most likely prompted by an incident in the village.

Grevil strode towards Kazuya, his boots clacking loudly. “You must be out of shape,” he said, striking a pose. “Go on and climb these stairs.”

“Uh, I’m not exactly out of shape.”

“You’re such a handful. I’m saying this for your own good. Now, climb up quickly! Move, chop-chop!” He slapped Kazuya’s rear hard.

Kazuya jumped and yelped. “Please, stop that! You don’t need to tell me; I was going up for an important business anyway. But you stay away!”

“Why not? I’m a grown-up, so I’m taking the elevator, of course. Ideally, I’ll go up to the conservatory after her mood’s improved to minimize the emotional damage… So, please hurry. Help a man out, yeah? I’ll give you a little something later!”

“I don’t want it. Seriously.”

Despite his reservations, Kazuya hurried away from Inspector Blois and went up the labyrinthine stairs as usual.

The towering library tower stretched infinitely upward, or so it seemed as he climbed and climbed, breathless. This was nothing new, of course.

Surrounded by walls of books in every direction, it felt as if he had wandered into the belly of a colossal creature that embodied Europe’s ancient knowledge, gazing at the lining of its innards.

Kazuya alone, through a peculiar twist of fate, was granted the privilege to journey into the heart of the monstrous entity, to meet the golden fairy, a symbol of the Old World’s power. And he did this day after day.

Just as he was about a few steps away, gasping for breath, a tuft of golden hair cascaded from above, obscuring his vision.

Kazuya’s hands moved to reach for it, and for an instant, his fingertips brushed against the lovely strands.

His heart skipped a beat, and he stopped in his tracks. Then, his heart drumming in his chest, he resumed his climb.

Soon, the breathtaking sight at the topmost floor came into view.

A strange conservatory, rumored to have been built by a past monarch for clandestine rendezvous with a lover.

Lush foliage from tropical lands, unfamiliar trees bearing fruits of red and purple. Birds with yellow-green wings native to the south glided leisurely overhead.

Something felt different. Sensing a charged tension within the solemn silence, Kazuya grew uneasy, and he glanced around.

On the floor, Victorique de Blois sat like a broken doll, engrossed in her books, as ever. The sight of her brought relief to Kazuya, and a smile tugged at his lips.

She wore a striking red and black gown, plaited exquisitely at the chest. The skirt billowed out like a flower in full bloom, black velvet ribbons swaying at the hem. Luxurious pearl buttons on the collar and sleeves sparkled in the light.

Perched atop her golden hair was a red-and-black, checkered mini-hat, adorned with lavender lace tied in a bow knot. Her feet were clad in lovely rose-embossed boots designed for snowy days.

An assortment of difficult books ranging from Latin to Ancient Gaelic and Sanskrit lay in a semi-circle around her.

Thin tendrils of smoke drifted from the white ceramic pipe in her hand.

Victorique took a puff. “Keep it down, Kujou,” she muttered in a raspy voice.

He had seen her countless times before, but Kazuya found himself captivated by her anyway, standing transfixed.

“What?” he blurted. Holding his hat to his chest, he cocked his head to one side, his jet-black eyes blinking curiously. “I just got here, and I haven’t said a single word.” He came closer.

“You’re the embodiment of noise,” Victorique grumbled.

Kazuya chuckled. “Your second worst enemy, behind boredom.”

“Indeed.”

“But someone even louder than me is likely to show up soon, unfortunately.” Kazuya frowned, pointing toward the elevator.

Victorique’s brows knitted, and she lifted her head. Her eyes were a bottomless shade of green. She possessed beauty and coldness that no human being could possibly have.

“Huh?” Kazuya, detecting something within her emotionless, jewel-like eyes, shuffled closer to her.

He knelt on the floor and peered at Victorique’s face from up close. For some time, he studied her from various angles—right, left, above, below—and then, for reasons unknown, poked her cheeks several times. Then, he inclined his head in contemplation.