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Femina Economica Monster – Part 08

“Heads!”

A hush fell over the grand hall as the golden coin traced its lazy arc through the air. All eyes followed its descent. It landed before Victorique, who showed no interest in whatever was happening. La Guardia cackled. No one said a word.

Victorique cast a fleeting, envious glance at the pipe, before reluctantly extending her slender arm from beneath her cloak to retrieve the coin.

She examined the coin marked with a dragon’s head and gave a slow nod. The silence stretched on.

“Heads,” Victorique uttered raspily.

Instantly, cheers erupted throughout the hall.

“Incredible!”

“Never doubted her.”

“Granny, you’ve done it again!”

“Lady La Guardia!”

“She’s the New World’s Queen of Money, all right.”

The cheers grew louder, a chorus of acclaim.

“Queen of Money!”

“Queen of Money!”

“Queen of Money!”

La Guardia’s face lit up. She struck regal and proud poses like an actress delivering a speech.

“Ah, how delightful. But this is nothing unusual for me. Your enjoyment is all that matters!”

The old priest shuffled forward and grabbed the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, Lady La Guardia has never lost a coin toss in her life! And tonight is no exception. Allow me to proclaim, on her behalf, that she, the Golden Queen, shall never be bested by anyone or anything!”

“Indeed,” La Guardia agreed delightfully. “Looking back, it all began sixty-five years ago when I disembarked from the ship and linked my half of the coin to my husband’s. Since then, luck has always favored me.” She took a puff from her golden pipe.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the priest said, “let us give a grand round of applause for the magnificent Lady La Guardia!”

Cheers erupted, followed by thunderous applause that seemed to rock the tower. A flashy marching band, dressed in vibrant uniforms, burst onto the scene, joyously playing as they marched by. The atmosphere resembled that of a victory parade. Men and women alike joined in the revelry, with some dancing and others singing along. Even the elderly priest cast aside his cherished Bible, picking up a trumpet and launching into a spirited performance.

“That’s my granny!” Bon Vivant exclaimed proudly. “Outshining even the most flamboyant characters!”

“You can say that again,” Victorique said incredulously. “To think there’s someone even more flamboyant than you. The chaos of the New World doest not fail to astound.”

She turned her attention to the coin in her hand, scrutinizing it closely. One side bore a fearsome dragon’s head, while the other displayed a graceful tail. Something caught her eye.

“A coin toss, huh?” she groaned. Her emerald-green eyes flickered enchantingly. “Hmm. This is nothing more than a classic ruse. By weighting one side of the coin, you can control which side lands face up. This appears to be a commemorative gold coin from 1865, meticulously repaired after being split in half. Likely the same coin from the reel, a keepsake from her husband. Oh, the weight is the same, so there’s no tampering there. But wait… Aha!”

Victorique flipped the coin back and forth, inspecting it closely before starting to fiddle with something nearby. Abruptly, one of the Cigarette Girls dashed over and snatched the coin away. Victorique’s shoulders drooped in disappointment. She looked like a child whose toy had been confiscated.

La Guardia retrieved the coin and stowed it away carefully. With a sudden realization, she turned, her expression growing stern. Victorique retreated deep into her cloak, curling up tightly into a ball, as motionless as a stone. La Guardia shook her head, wondering if her mind was merely playing tricks on her.

“I love Granny more than anyone else in the world,” Bon Vivant said dejectedly.

Victorique, still tucked in like a pebble, murmured softly, “So, does that mean your partner comes second? Frankly, I couldn’t care less about you. Anyway, slice more cake.”

“Yup. They’re both important to me.” Bon Vivant blinked as he returned to prodding the cake.

Wrapped in gray cloth, Victorique slowly turned, sensing something amiss. Was it her imagination, or did the doors at the hall’s exit seem to bulge towards them?

And then, there was a loud noise. Once again, the ladies shrieked, and the men tensed.

In the elevator hall, crimson flames erupted, blasting the ornate door apart. Black smoke billowed, spreading fast. Piercing screams filled the venue.

Following the shattered door, the uniformed elevator attendant tumbled into the room, collapsing with a groan. His severed arm slid into the hall, blood pooling around it. It resembled a scene torn from a battlefield.

Women shrieked as they scattered in all directions. The shaking floor sent roasted calves and pigs tumbling over, and colorful fruits and vegetables spilled everywhere. The chaos persisted with ongoing screams and shouts. An elderly lady stumbled upon the severed arm, her eyes rolling back as she was caught by her husband or son.

Men regained their composure, rushing towards the door.

“Oh, no!”

“The elevator’s completely destroyed. A malfunction? This tower was just built!”

“An explosion? What went wrong?!”

“No, this is…”

“It’s a bomb…!”

Waiters rushed to the fallen elevator attendant, attempting to stem the bleeding. Their faces flushed with anger and frustration.

“That was too close.”

“If he had stood just a bit to the side, he would’ve been blown to bits.”

“This is sick. They’re out to kill us.”

A gentleman trying to open the emergency exit door turned, his face drained of color.

“I-It’s locked from the outside!”

“But why?”

“I don’t know. But if the elevator hall has exploded and we can’t use the emergency stairs…” His gaze swept over the others. “That means no one can leave this hall!”

“What?!”

An eerie silence descended.

Victorique remained silent, her gaze fixed on La Guardia. For some reason, La Guardia stood calmly, unaffected by the emergency, even wearing a somewhat amused expression. Meanwhile, the people around her were panicking, running around.

“What’s happening?!”

“No! I want to go down!”

The chandelier crashed down. Screams rose from all directions. The dim hall was illuminated solely by the indirect lighting on the walls, casting an eerie glow on each face.

Clatter, clatter, clatter.

The projector whirred to life. On the white wall where the movie was played earlier, sinister characters appeared, as if written in blood. Tearful cries erupted anew all over the hall. Victorique, curled up in a ball, watched intently.

“Have you ever danced with Death in the dark of night?”

Screams rose from children and young people all around. The adults gaped in utter confusion.

“Forget not the day you passed through the blue door. Now is the time for revenge! I shall not let you leave this tower alive.”

“Not let us leave alive?!”

Shouts and cries echoed all around.

“What’s going on?!”

“We came here to celebrate Lady La Guardia’s achievement!”

“Did someone with a grudge against the Bluecandy family plot this?!”

Then, another explosion occurred in the corridor just outside. The whole place rocked. A gentleman near the door was blown away, rolling into the middle of the hall. He groaned, blood flowing from his back. The thick glass windows from the ceiling to the floor shattered. A strong gust of wind rushed in.

Victorique was also knocked over by the wind, tumbling to the floor, rolling like a gray ball.

And then, the final words appeared on the wall.

“The third bomb is in this hall! If you don’t want to die, make La Guardia confess the sins she committed that day before the bomb explodes!”

—Grim Reaper

“A third bomb? Here? Search for it! Someone, disarm it!”

“What sins are they talking about?!”

“Who the hell is this Grim Reaper?!”

The adults clamored, while a dozen or so children and young people were looking in a different direction. Some were pointing. Noticing this, the adults turned to look in the same direction.

There stood Bon Vivant, mouth agape.

“Grim Reaper. Dance in the dark of night. I know that line.”

“Grim Reaper…”

“I know them.”

“Isn’t that the name of the evil mastermind?!”

The gazes of the gentlemen and ladies, bloodshot with fear and anger, gradually began to focus on one point. Glances were exchanged.

Victorique approached Bon Vivant. “A name and words that young folks and kids recognize, but not so much for adults,” she said. “So, who’s this Grim Reaper? Do you know them? What does it mean to dance with Death in the dark of night?”

Bon Vivant shook his head in confusion. “Who would do this?! And why would they use that name? Grim Reaper is the name of the villain in Wonder Girl. Their catchphrase is: ‘Have you ever danced with Death in the dark of night?’”

He sank to the floor.

“Grim Reaper is not real!”