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Epilogue

The next day. A cold, winter morning.

New York, Brooklyn, 14 Cranberry Street, in a street-facing room in the modest four-story apartment building. Low ceilings, old floral wallpaper.

A pot of soup bubbled away in the kitchen.

Kazuya sat at the worn-out and small dining table with his back straight, as if being held by a stick.

On the opposite end sat Victorique, perched on a chair that resembled an African queen’s throne. Her silver hair spilled onto the floor like a band of light in the night sky. Today, she wore a loosely fitted purple dress with a flapper-style design and a gold crown mini hat. Soft ruffles adorned the sleeves and collar, shimmering in shades of purple. They sat at a noticeable distance from each other. The silence stretched on.

Sipping his coffee, Kazuya attentively scanned the newspaper. “Hey, Victorique,” he said, lifting his gaze and pointing to an article. “Newspapers, including the Daily Road, are giving Detective Benjamin all the credit. Take a look.”

“I don’t want to spend the effort. Read it aloud instead.”

“But you’re the one who cracked the case, the Detective Gray Wolf. Let’s see…”

Kazuya straightened his posture even more, holding up the newspaper. He cleared his throat.

“”Dr. G.I. Boleid, New Authority in Psychiatry, Internationally Wanted as the Mastermind Behind the Assassination Attempt on Presidential Candidate Mr. Goldsworthy, Motive Unknown!” “Dr. Boleid Rumored to Have Fled to his Homeland, Germany!” and then… “Uncovering Such a Massive Conspiracy, Saving Candidate Goldsworthy’s Life, and Apprehending the Mastermind was…”

He spread the newspaper on the table, pointing to the article.

In the center was a photo of a small young man, flashing a smug grin at the camera. He was flanked by two scantily clad women planting kisses on his cheeks.

Beneath the photo was a brief caption that read: “Detective Benjamin, the rising star of the NYPD, receiving kisses of gratitude from this year’s newly crowned Miss New York and her runner-up.”

Kazuya blinked in disbelief. “They’re saying Detective Benjamin is the rising star of the NYPD.”

“We specifically requested anonymity. Nico is fine, and Rokushou seems unharmed. There’s no issue, is there?”

“No,” Kazuya agreed.

Detective Benjamin was holding a teddy bear tightly in the photo. Kazuya furrowed his brow as he examined the picture, as if recalling something weird. He cocked his head.

“Hmm…”

Victorique cast him an uneasy look. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh, this picture kinda reminds me of something. I’m not sure… A detective holding a teddy bear… Grateful kisses from beautiful women… Ah, I remember now!” Kazuya snapped his fingers, and Victorique frowned. “It reminds me of your brother! Inspector Grevil de Blois! He used to hold weird stuff too.”

“I don’t see the point in bringing up stupid matters,” Victorique huffed, puffing her cheeks.

Kazuya fell silent, taking another sip of coffee. After perusing the newspaper for a while, he chatted with the Jewish family across the hallway who came to borrow pepper for their chicken soup, exchanging morning greetings, discussing the weather, and apologizing for the disturbance they caused at night, before returning and flipping through the newspaper again.

He glanced up and turned his attention to the other end of the table. “By the way, how’s your brother doing?”

“He’s doing great!” Victorique snapped. “This is Grevil we’re talking about.”

Kazuya shrank back. He regarded Victorique in silence, and as usual, she relented and provided an update—by almost throwing this month’s issue of TIME magazine at him.

“Ah!”

“You were the one who bought the magazine. How could you not notice before handing it to me? Open your eyes wider and read carefully. You showed me something weird.”

“What are you talking about?” Kazuya pushed aside the newspaper with Detective Benjamin’s article and opened the TIME magazine. “What exactly does it say?” he pondered aloud, scanning the titles of the articles.

“‘The World of the Italian Mafia!’ This one’s about Garbo Boss. Unrelated, then. There’s an article introducing the presidential candidate Goldsworthy. Nothing odd about that one, either.”

Victorique ignored him and remained silent.

Kazuya, looking somewhat amused, continued, “Next is about the newly established government agency. ‘The FBI and the Suspicious Hoover’s Files!’ This article also…”

“Hmph.”

“And finally, an article about Hollywood movie actor River Valentine. Does Mr. River Own the Hearts of All the Ladies in the United States?!”

“Take a closer look, you dolt.”

“What? What a foulmouthed detective. Why so angry? Um, it says here that filming for Mr. Valentine’s new movie starts at the end of the year, and they’ll be working through New Year’s. Tough schedule for both the actors and crew. And there’s a mention of a European emerging actor… making a special… appearance… in a rival role?” Shock slowly spread across Kazuya’s face.

Victorique regarded him with an emotionless gaze. “Well, Kujou?”

“What?! Is that all you have to say?! Th-The actor in this photo…”

“A handsome actor with rumored noble lineage. Golden hair and green eyes. Known in Europe…”

Victorique let out a bored sigh, then popped a marshmallow-filled, mini cream puff into her mouth from the plate on the table. She chewed.

Kazuya scrutinized the photo, flabbergasted. The picture depicted Hollywood’s leading star, Valentine, wielding a gun on horseback in a Wild West setting. Beside him was a cropped photo of the European emerging actor he’d be sharing the screen with.

Lustrous long hair cascading over his chest. Stylish cufflinks buttoned on a silk shirt. His gaze was enigmatic, as if about to speak of love to some unseen figure.

“No!”

“Not again. Kujou, you always seem to react negatively to anything related to Grevil. Must be rough.”

“No! How, Victorique? How?” Kazuya persisted.

Victorique tried to dismiss him, too annoyed to answer his questions, but relented once more. “I’m not entirely sure myself, but I heard he was scouted by a suspicious man in front of a flower shop in Saubreme. I received a smug letter from him a while ago, but I simply used it to blow my nose and tossed it in the trash. I never imagined things would turn out like this. The world truly is a mysterious place.”

The pot of chicken soup continued to simmer gently. Voices of passersby greeting each other drifted in from the main street. The small fireplace crackled intermittently.

“What?!”

Kazuya, still sitting upright, slowly tumbled off his chair.

Outside the old apartment building, the red-haired caretaker let out a tired yawn as she squatted on the sidewalk, sweeping away fallen leaves and dust.

“Is this where the Gray Wolf detective lives?” said a deep, cheerful voice belonging to a man. “They weren’t in their office at East Village, so I ended up coming all the way here.”

“Huh?” The caretaker looked up to see huge worn-out shoes and wrinkled pants. “Detective who?”

“They say it’s a mysterious woman with silver hair. There’s a case I really need help with.”

“Well, I’m not entirely sure who that is, but if you’re looking for someone with silver hair, there’s the beautiful lady on the fourth floor. Her unit’s up the stairs facing the street. She doesn’t come out on her own. I don’t know what their relationship is, but there’s an Asian boy there, so you could ask him.”

“Thank you, miss.”

“No problem.” The caretaker rose to her feet, dustpan in hand. “Wait, what?!” She blinked rapidly, taken aback.

The man before her wore a shabby coat and a fuzzy hat, exuding an air of nonchalance about his appearance. He was tall with broad shoulders, almond-shaped eyes, a prominent nose, and a friendly smile capable of capturing people’s hearts and never letting go.

His face looked familiar. His smile had graced the screens countless times before.

“R-Ri…” the caretaker croaked, pointing a finger at the man’s face. “Ri… Huh?”

By the time she snapped out of it, the man had already ascended the narrow staircase of the apartment. His light footsteps faded away.

The caretaker’s knees buckled, and she plopped on the ground. “What in the world just happened?! What’s someone like him doing in this rundown apartment? Wh-What kind of person is the resident on the fourth floor?”

A cold gust swept through, stirring the fallen leaves. The trees lining the street rustled.

Inside the room on the street-facing unit on the fourth floor, Kazuya turned at the sound of a knock. Victorique was feigning disinterest, so he reluctantly rose to answer the door.

“Coming. Who is it?”

Looking up at the tall figure before him, Kazuya was so astonished that, like the caretaker, he stood there dumbfounded, mouth agape.

The man took off his hat and held it in front of him.

Languidly puffing on her pipe, Victorique glanced at the doorway. Her silver locks cascaded like the Milky Way across the floor, gleaming brightly. The frills adorning her vibrant purple dress undulated like waves under the moonlight. A gold mini hat sat regally upon her head, resembling a crown fit for a petite queen. But her emerald eyes were dim, betraying no emotion.

The man’s warm smile faltered slightly, sensing the unusual atmosphere emanating from Victorique.

“I’ve come to see the detective,” he said nervously. “I apologize for intruding on your home so suddenly. I have an urgent case that requires immediate attention. Could you spare a moment to listen?”

“…”

“By the way, my name is…”

Victorique slowly placed a pipe between her lips. She eyed the photo in the TIME magazine on the table, then the face of the large man. Her glossy, cherry lips loosened ever so slightly.

“I’m River Valentine. A Hollywood actor.”

“Very well. I’ll hear you out.”

Victorique cast a glance at the bewildered Kazuya, then smiled faintly. She stifled a yawn. Her emerald green eyes flickered bewitchingly, her whole being exuding the dignity of a queen of the underworld.

“I was just beginning to feel the onset of a new wave of boredom.”