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Blue Flame – Part 04

“That was the Queen after she lost her spirit and moved to a country house to rest. We don’t have to state whether she’s depressed or troubled. We portray her state of mind through acting. That’s what actors are all about!”

“Yup!” The other woman nodded, smiling.

Then standing side by side, the woman on the right rested her pretty cheek on the palm of her right hand, and the woman on the left turned pale as a ghost, with her heavy cheek on the palm of her right hand, staring helplessly into the void. They stood still and motionless.

“Bravo!” Inspector Blois clapped his hands, thoroughly impressed.

Victorique also clapped her tiny, pudgy palms together, genuinely moved for once.

The actresses returned to their natural expressions, as though a magic spell had been broken. They smiled and bowed.

“Well?”

“Marvelous!” the inspector remarked.

“According to one theory, the Queen was pregnant with His Majesty Rupert’s child around the year 1900. The Queen Mother was expecting an heir. Unfortunately, the baby was stillborn. I don’t know what happened, but some say that the rift between the depressed Queen and His Majesty grew even deeper, and finally she was sent away to a country house to recuperate. But it’s really difficult.”

The women exchanged looks.

“Why is that?” Victorique asked.

“Because everyone in the kingdom knows Queen Coco very well. And even though she’s been dead for ten years, she’s still very popular. This revival is proof of that. She was shy, sensitive, lovely, and quiet. I’m sure everyone felt close to her. The adults saw her as their daughter, the younger ones as their sister or a friend. That’s why it’s difficult. Everyone remembers her dearly, yet no one knows what kind of woman she really was. It’s hard to play the role of an enigma.”

“That’s not all.” The other woman added. “A quiet girl from a noble family married into foreign royalty and suffered from the inability to adapt to a different culture. After the stillbirth of her child, her position became more precarious. It would be presumptuous to say that we could understand her suffering, but we can find ways to portray her. However, there were scandalous rumors about Queen Coco.”

“Her obsession with the occult, and going out at night,” Victorique said.

“Exactly. It’s just weird.”

“Right?”

Sounds of props being assembled came from the stage. The director’s voice could be heard as well. The color of the lights changed rapidly as the staff did some testing. It was dizzying.

“I heard that right after she married the king, her anxieties caused her to become obsessed with the occult,” the actress playing the Queen Coco from the palace said. “There’s even a rumor that she admired the mysterious alchemist and that they were too close. Although hardly credible, some went as far as to say that she loved the alchemist and not the king. The alchemist was also a traveler from another country; as fellow foreigners, she trusted him.”

“I see,” Victorique nodded. “Taking all that into account made studying the role more difficult.”

“And even the anecdotes from after she left the palace are just odd,” the other actress, playing the Queen Coco from the country house, broke in. “She was supposedly depressed when she left the palace, but years later, tabloids were full of accounts about seeing her out at night. Was she doing well or not? It’s hard to tell. Why did a shy and quiet person change so much in her final years? Maybe something happened that triggered the change. But we can’t figure it out, and it’s giving me a headache. Like which is it?!”

“I see. So the second Queen Coco is also a difficult role to play.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s a huge pain.”

The actresses tilted their heads to the right and to the left, respectively.

Victorique sat down in a nearby wooden chair. She moved slowly, like an old person who had already lived a hundred years.

Inspector Blois watched her intently.

“Indeed, Coco Rose had two faces,” Victorique said to no one in particular. “A quiet, pretty, and quite ordinary French girl, she married at a young age to a foreign king and was thrust into the limelight. The anxiety made her turn to a dubious alchemist.”

“Yes,” Inspector Blois nodded gravely.

“You degenerate,” Victorique hissed. “I’m thinking right now. Stop interrupting.”

Inspector Blois grunted.

“Some say that the queen was under so much pressure that she often drank a strong drink called absinthe. It is also said that she would only share her feelings with the maid she brought with her from France, who looked exactly like her. And then the mysterious scandals in her later years. Spending her nights outside.”

Victorique stared at the two actresses as they went back to their warm-up exercises. Her eyes blinked coldly, as though she was afraid of something.

“But no matter what kind of rumors spread, Queen Coco’s popularity never declined. How did the king feel back then? An ordinary girl from a foreign country was more adored by the people than His Majesty Rupert, the heir to the throne.” She looked into the distance. “If I had to hazard a guess, Queen Coco’s popularity stemmed from her delicate and insecure nature. The human heart is a very mysterious thing. At times it longs for perfect beauty, righteousness, strength, and at other times that same person is captivated by the weak, the ephemeral, the imperfect.”

“What are you trying to say?” Inspector Blois growled.

“I just thought that despite everything—her weakness, mistakes, the questionable rumors, her mysterious death—the people of Saubreme had continued loving Queen Coco for 27 years. As if to validate their own existence. After all…”

“What?”

“The people of Saubreme, too, are weak, fragile, and they repeatedly make mistakes. Mysterious and imperfect.”

“Let me guess: but not you.” Inspector Blois gave her a spiteful glare.

“No.” Victorique paused. “I’m no different.”

She looked away, and brought the pipe to her glossy, cherry lips. A wisp of white smoke drifted upward.

In a voice so faint that her brother couldn’t hear, she said, “I’m a weak, fragile human being. I’m painfully aware of that every single day of my life. Even now.”

A hint of fear and worry crept onto her cold, expressionless little face. Slowly she turned her head in the direction of the door leading out of the theater.

Her lips moved. Mouthed Kujou’s name, it seemed.

But no voice came out.

She cast her eyes down forlornly.

---

“Remove it, quick.”

“She’s so amusing when she’s angry. She’s so tiny and lovely, but when she gets mad her hair rises like she’s being possessed by some horrifying demon.”

“That voice… Ginger Pie? I don’t know what’s going on, but remove it.”

“You look so serious pondering something, like a grownup. It doesn’t fit your tiny face at all. I was just trying to cheer you up. Living merrily is the best. Sing, dance. Feel better now?”

“Yes. I am in a great mood. So remove it already.”

From bottom to top, her field of vision widened. Pitch-black darkness turned to the original hectic scene of the backstage.

Ginger Pie, the actress playing the role of the Queen Mother, was in front of her. Wearing a regal attire and makeup, she was laughing hysterically.

Next to her stood another actor. His handsome features and elegant clothes suggested he was playing the role of His Majesty the King. He was holding a large crown in both hands, peering at her inquisitively.

“Oh, my. What a lovely little lady! Ginger Pie, is this your friend’s daughter that you were talking about?”

“Yup. You should check out the old portraits in the corridor later. She looks just like her mother. It’s actually astonishing how much they look alike.”

Ginger Pie’s loud voice attracted the attention of the other actors. They gathered around and started poking Victorique’s cheeks, pulling on her ribbons and hat.

“Stop it!” Victorique flared, but the actors ignored her protests.

“It blinked. Impressive detail,” one said.

“It’s not a doll. It’s real!”

“It’s so adorable! So tiny and chubby.”

Inspector Blois, sensing the danger, fled.

Victorique looked like she had wandered into a dusty, abandoned castle and surrounded by the ghosts of medieval nobles. She remained silent for a while, her small shoulders quivering.

“Get off me, you fools!” she finally snapped.

“See? She looks more and more like her mother when she gets mad. She puffs up her cheeks, and like a beast intimidating other animals, her long and magnificent, golden hair rises.” Ginger Pie’s face suddenly scrunched up.

Seeing her expression, the actor removed the hand that was poking Victorique’s cheek and put on the crown he had been holding.

It was the crown that was covering Victorique’s head earlier. Just the right size for a grown man’s head, it rested on top of his smoothly-combed, blond hair. The actor started looking like the king.

He patted her on the shoulder. “Cheer up, Ginger Pie. You’ve been crying a lot lately.”

“She just looks so much like Cordelia Gallo.” The flood of tears washed away her makeup. The other actors quickly gathered around her. “They look alike when she’s quiet, but when she gets angry, she’s the spitting image of her. She must share the same soul as my dear Cordelia.”

“You get so emotional so easily. Weren’t you crying about something else yesterday? Please get a grip, Ginger Pie. You’re like everyone’s maman. Sing, dance, live merrily, right?”

“Yeah. But still, people come and go. Even the kids here. They’ll all be gone someday, leaving me behind.”

The crowd of glamorous actors walked off somewhere with Ginger Pie. All that was left was Victorique, watching them go with an icy, blank look.

Slowly, her face tightened. A single, tiny teardrop fell. As if a drop of water just trickled from an ice sculpture.

Her lips parted. “Are Maman and I alike?”

The white dove, which had been flying around the ceiling for a while, slowly circled around and returned to Victorique, perching gently on her shoulder.

“I’m her spitting image when I get angry? Because we share the same soul?”

The dove cooed.

She cast her eyes down, and her face contorted faintly. It looked like she was smiling and holding back tears at the same time.

Lights flashed rapidly on stage, changing colors. The voices of the busy staff filled the air.