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Alone Together on New Year’s Eve – Part 07

“No, it’s not sudden,” he mumbled. “Something has been happening over the past few days.”

“I see. Well, you don’t need to know everything. Now, pack your belongings! If you don’t, we will take you by force.”

Kazuya chewed on his lip. He stared back at the man, pain, sadness, and frustration on his face.

In his room were textbooks, notebooks, dictionaries, letters from his family, his clothes, among other things.

Most of what he had acquired in this kingdom were intangible things—knowledge earned through his studies, affection, fun memories, and the irreplaceable bonds he had made with people.

Kazuya shifted. Then, he noticed something in his pocket, a solid object pressing against his thigh through the fabric. He blinked.

He had a hunch what it was. Silently, he felt his pants. There was no doubt about it.

Inside was the purple ring that Victorique was wearing on her finger. Kazuya’s throat tightened.

This ring…

A few months ago, right at the end of summer, Victorique was transferred out of Saint Marguerite Academy, and Kazuya rushed to the eerie monastery known as Beelzebub’s Skull, located in Lithuania, to save her. After finding her there, a horrible murder occurred. Kazuya fled with Victorique, racing through rising waters, and boarded the train Old Masquerade.

Back then, Kazuya ran into Victorique’s mother, Cordelia Gallo. Hidden inside the creepy Mechanical Turk, she had infiltrated the monastery and shown her face only to him.

“Give it to her,” she had said, entrusting the ring to him. Proof that she was always watching over her. That even when the cub did not call for her, the mother wolf came.

Since then, Victorique had always worn this ring, replacing the gold coin pendant. A familiar purple ring that seemed to gradually become a part of her body.

When did she put it in Kazuya’s pants? Kazuya softly closed his eyes.

Just a little while ago, he realized. When he picked up the trembling Victorique and carried her to the bedroom. By the time he laid her on the canopied bed and put a cover over her, the ring had vanished.

She must have discreetly removed the ring and slipped it into his pocket while he was carrying her.

“Her Wellspring of Wisdom,” Kazuya breathed.

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“She can foresee anything. Every small event becomes fragments of chaos that rain down all around her. She then plays with them to stave off her boredom, reconstructing them in no time at all.”

“So you’re just rambling. Hurry up and pack your things.”

“She had already solved the fourteenth mystery. She just didn’t tell me. She knew that this might be the last time we would see each other.”

“Move it, boy!”

“I was the only one who didn’t know. I thought we would meet again in the morning of the new year. I told her good night, just like I always did.” Kazuya cast his gaze to the floor.

The official gave him a reproachful look. Noticing this, he reigned in his emotions and stood stiffly upright.

His mind, however, continued running.

There’s something I haven’t told her. He felt a pang of regret. Since that spring day, when I climbed up to the highest floor of the library tower with the handouts given by the teacher and met that girl with the golden hair, this inexplicable feeling has been burning in my chest… What could it possibly be? I have no idea. And now I have to leave Sauville without being able to tell her!

Following orders, Kazuya began packing quickly, stuffing his textbooks and dictionaries into the suitcase he had brought to Sauville more than a year ago. His clothes were neatly folded and placed on top.

Kazuya asked the man calmly if he could leave a letter, and the man told him not to leave any message to his friend. Frustrated, Kazuya bit his lip, but quickly wrote something in a notebook anyway.

It was written in the language of his homeland, with the drawing of a small butterfly on top.

“I want to give this to my homeroom teacher, Miss Cecile Lafitte.”

The man frowned disapprovingly at the drawing, but saw no problem with the content itself. “Is that it? Fine. It might be necessary for administrative purposes.”

Suitcase in hand, Kazuya left the room. He was probably never coming back to this small, familiar stronghold that was St. Marguerite Academy.

He walked down the hallway, back straight, holding back the tears.

As he left the dormitory and got on the carriage, he saw Miss Cecile running toward him on the cold snowy path. She was in her sleepwear, not even wearing a coat. Holding hands with the dorm mother, she sprinted as fast as she could.

Kazuya poked his head out the window, but the officers stopped him.

“Kujou!” Ms. Cecile called.

“You’re taking him already? What is going on?!” the dorm mother bellowed. “Kujou!”

“Right at the beginning of the year. The academy hasn’t been informed about this. You need to talk to me, his homeroom teacher, the principal, and the chairman.”

“We don’t have time for that. This is an urgent matter. If we go through the proper process, we will be putting our precious student in danger.”

“Danger? What are you talking about?” Cecile asked, confused.

Kazuya swallowed and listened carefully. The wind blew, rattling the carriage. It was cold, and even inside the carriage, his breath turned white.

“Are you the homeroom teacher, Miss Cecile Lafitte? Kujou gave this to me. If there is something you need to tell him at a later point, use it.”

“What are these weird squiggles?”

“It’s our country’s script.”

Ms. Cecile, although unable to read it, understood that she received a scrap of paper torn from a notebook.

As the man boarded the carriage, Kazuya glimpsed the face of Ms. Cecile, trying to peer inside.

“Kujou…” she murmured.

She jumped up and down. Her familiar fluffy brown hair and round glasses repeatedly popped in and out of view outside the window.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I got it. The butterfly on this note is most likely golden. That means to give this message to the golden butterfly. I can’t read it, but it’s a letter to her.”

Kazuya nodded wordlessly.

“Stay well, Kujou!”

The carriage door was closing.

“Even when you return to your homeland, don’t forget about Sauville and everyone here!”

“Teach!”

“Everyone loves you so much!”

“Take care! And about her…”

The door slammed shut.

Tears trickled down Kazuya’s cheeks. He tried to maintain an expressiononless façade while packing his things, but now the emotions he had bottled up spilled all at once.

He secretly wiped the tears away with the back of his hand. He knew he would be scolded in a tone just like his father, telling him that a man shouldn’t cry. However, despite being the third son of an imperial soldier, the present Kazuya no longer believed that shedding tears for people you cared about was wrong. This was something he had learned from the people he met in this foreign country and the trials he overcame with Victorique.

The sound of a whip came from the driver’s seat, and the carriage lurched into motion, speeding so fast that Kazuya barely had time to look back at the library tower’s faint silhouette under the moonlight. Tears pooled in his jet-black eyes. He didn’t even have a chance to bid a proper farewell.

The grand stone tower, a witness to centuries of events shaping Europe’s history, observed in silence as the foreign boy departed in the cold night of the new year.

The carriage navigated the French-style garden, passed through the all-too-familiar main gate, and careened onto the village road with the ferocity of a demon. A shroud of impenetrable blackness lay heavy on the road, thick darkness unfurling ahead, seemingly leading into the netherworld itself.

“What’s going to happen now?” Kazuya asked calmly, trying to hide his shaking.

After a moment of silence, the official answered, choosing his words carefully. “A localized war.”

“Localized?”

The official turned towards him. “It’s dangerous to be in Europe right now. Our fellow countrymen are leaving the continent altogether with the government’s help and returning to our homeland. This continent might be engulfed in a sea of flames once again.”

“Wha…”

“However, our country is safe,” the man declared confidently.

A cold wind blew and violently shook the carriage. It was as if the giant hands of an invisible god were rocking it from the outside.

“The next storm!” Kazuya exclaimed under his breath. “It was supposed to come someday, and it’s even bigger than the one ten years ago.”

He pressed his hand on his forehead. “The previous Great War, too, started as a localized conflict, which quickly spread to the whole world. It might happen again.”

“Watch your words, Kujou. All you have to do…”

They arrived at the heart of the village. Some buildings still had their lights on. The train station was faintly visible in the distance, cloaked in darkness, as if drifting helplessly between the waves.

They sped past the police station, where the carriage momentarily slowed down. Inspector Blois, who had just come out of the building, spotted Kazuya’s face through the carriage window. His breath caught in his throat.

The carriage sped up again. They passed through the village road and entered the woods. The forest felt much deeper and darker than usual. Layers upon layers of bare branches separated the carriage from the night sky.

The carriage rocked along the dark mountain road, quickly distancing itself from Saint Marguerite Academy where Victorique slept.