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I Demand Fifteen Mysteries – Part 01

The next day…

Saint Marguerite Academy.

The garden lay wrapped in snow and silence, as if the hustle and bustle of the human chess tournament from the day before, the footsteps of the students leaving for home yesterday, had never been.

The gazebos were capped with snow. The statue of the goddess, holding a vase, gleamed in the frozen fountain as if in an icy world. Iron benches, mottled black-and-white, sparkled.

It was a quiet morning, with no one in sight.

From the staff quarters, far more modest than the students’ dormitory, emerged a petite woman with fluffy brown hair, round glasses, and big, droopy puppy-like eyes. Her outfit consisted of a cozy knitted hat adorned with a pompom, a scarf wrapped around her mouth, a bulky sweater under a coat, and long boots.

The woman—Ms. Cecile—began decorating the entrance door with vibrant Christmas ornaments.

“Hmm… Since hardly anyone is here, surely I can decorate a bit more extravagantly. The nagging chairman is not here anyway. All right! Hmm?”

Hearing footsteps approaching, she strained her ears.

Shortly after, a small boy appeared, marching along the snowy path with rhythmic steps like a lone soldier. He donned a well-tailored coat, a brown scarf, and a bowler hat on his head. Carrying gift-wrapped packages carefully with both hands, he seemed to be in a hurry to get somewhere.

Ms. Cecile smiled broadly. “Kujou, good morning!”

“Ah, good morning, Ms. Cecile!”

The boy—Kazuya Kujou—squinted against the brightness, then bowed courteously.

A clump of snow fell somewhere nearby. Winter birds chirped as they flew overhead.

Kazuya approached curiously, wondering what Ms. Cecile was up to. When he noticed she was trying to stick a star decoration on top of the door, he handed her the gifts and stuck the décor for her.

He stepped back from the door, examined it, then came closer again. “Is this all right?” he wondered. “Looks a little crooked. A little up and to the left should do it, I think.”

Ms. Cecile returned the gifts in Kazuya’s arms. “That’s fine. Thanks!”

“Hmm, I think we should move it a little to the left.”

“Avril went home, too. It’s so lonely here.”

“Yeah. She’s gone… home…”

Kazuya’s face flushed all of a sudden, and he shook his head repeatedly. Ms. Cecile stared at him quizzically, then nodded.

“It’s so quiet,” she said.

“It is.”

Kazuya turned to face her, then looked up at the décor on the door again.

“A bit more to the left, and higher…”

“Don’t you have Christmas errands to take care of?”

“Yup, just a little a bit higher… Oh, Christmas errands! That’s right!”

Kazuya held the packages gently, softly, treating them like precious treasures. He turned to look at the main gate, as if reminded of someone who was now gone.

Ms. Cecile followed his gaze. There was no one there. Kazuya cast his eyes down dejectedly.

And then…

He glanced at the star décor again, still bothered by it, then swiftly turned on his heels and walked down the path once more. His posture was impeccable, too, this morning.

“Victorique is already awake,” Ms. Cecile said. “She’s been restless since finishing breakfast. Like she’s waiting for someone.”

“What?!” Kazuya hastened his pace.

He turned around the corner and disappeared beyond the snow-covered hedge. Only the cute yellow ribbon on the gift box was visible above the hedge like a flying butterfly, swiftly moving away.

Ms. Cecile watched him go with a smile. Then, she rubbed her hands together, feeling the cold. Gazing up at the staff quarters’ door, she began contemplating where to place the next decoration.

---

Deep inside the flowerbed maze of the French-style garden, winter’s icy embrace had draped the exquisitely crafted flowerbeds in a pristine shroud of snow, transforming the surroundings into a realm of pure white.

At the heart of this winter wonderland stood a small building resembling a candy house, its exterior coated in what seemed like white sugar, sparkling under the morning sun. Through the delicate French window, one could glimpse the face of a breathtakingly beautiful girl, like a fairy trapped within the confines of her sugary castle.

An antique table embedded with sparkling emeralds displayed an array of delectable treats: macarons, chocolate bonbons, animal-shaped cookies. Inside the vase were colorful lollipops, mimicking flowers. A room befitting the mistress of a candy house.

Seated comfortably upon a red velvet, cabriole-legged chair, leafing through a book on her lap at an incredible speed, the lovely girl, appearing no more than 140 centimeters tall, resembled a porcelain doll.

Her golden locks cascaded like an unfurled velvet turban, grazing the floor. Porcelain skin. Green eyes as deep as the bottom of a lake. Rosy cheeks. Glossy, cherry lips.

But beneath this stunning visage was a cold countenance, a stillness characteristic of someone who had lived for a hundred years. Her attire consisted of a gown woven with shimmering green taffeta reminiscent of emeralds, embellished with rich, coffee-colored lace that gracefully adorned sleeves, collars, hems. Her brown bonnet, crafted from the same lace, featured a sparkling green ribbon that matched the dress and a corsage of tawny flowers. Her feet were clad in rose-embossed boots.

On her delicate, childlike finger gleamed a purple ring, a precious gift from her mother.

Victorique de Blois, a sprite in a winter forest, sighed as she flipped through her book. For any observer, this fleeting exhalation would have revealed that she was not, in fact, a mere doll, but a living, breathing entity.

Her gaze drifted to a small yet opulent clock decorated with a real stuffed bird, its feathers glittering with all seven colors of the rainbow. The hands indicated that it was still early in the morning.

She pulled her eyes away from the clock and turned them back to the book.

A moment later, she glanced at the clock again. The hands had barely moved. Flipping through the book, she reached idly for the table and grabbed an animal-shaped cookie, munching on it.

“…Hmm?”

Footsteps sounded in the distance. She listened closely. It was faint, but it was undoubtedly the measured steps typical of a soldier.

“Those footsteps can only belong to that miscreant,” Victorique mumbled in her raspy voice.

Despite her harsh words, her milky skin blushed faintly, a change so elusive that it might as well have never been.

“Hmph. Neither punctual nor tardy,” she grumbled as she reached for a second cookie. “Not too early to surprise yet not too late as to keep one waiting. Indeed, the right hour for an average, talentless student, the third son of an imperial soldier, to arrive. Never not silly, that Kujou.”

She set aside the heavy book written in ancient Gaelic. Rising from her seat, she toddled toward the window, the animal-like motion at odds with her spiteful demeanor. The brown lace on the bottom of her dress stirred magically.

She opened the window. Kazuya Kujou, his view obscured by a gift box, craned his neck.

A beaming smile graced his face as soon as he spotted her. “You’re awake. Good morning, Victorique!” His voice was filled with delight. “I’m coming in through the door,” he added as he passed by the window.

With a subtle nod, Victorique closed the window, and the sound of his footsteps grew fainter.

Shortly after, the door opened, and Kazuya’s disciplined gait echoed down the hallway, until he finally arrived at the room.

“First of all, Merry Christmas, Victorique,” he greeted with a cheerful smile.

“…Hm.” Victorique maintained her usual taciturn behavior.

“It’s a big dollhouse… Ah!” Kazuya tumbled.

He had stepped on a pink macaroon lying on the floor, squishing it.

“You imbecile!” Victorique barked. “My macaron!”

“Yikes!”

“How dare you!”

The gift box, dislodged from Kazuya’s grasp, traced an arc through the air, drawing a puzzled gaze from Victorique. Her usual icy, blank expression betrayed a hint of panic. She scuttled after the package and managed to catch it just in time.

Kazuya, lying face down on the floor, glanced up with relief. “Oh, thank goodness! That’s a Christmas present from me.”

“Hmm?”

“It’s a dollhouse. Just like this candy house…”

“…It’s heavy,” Victorique said curtly, letting go of the box.

Kazuya leaped across the floor and landed under the box, catching it. He stood up.

Instead of erupting in anger, he broke into a bright smile. “Here you go.” He once again offered the gift to Victorique.

Victorique reclined on her usual chair, showing not the slightest indication that she had been waiting for her lone servant since the early hours of the morning.

With an astonishing air of arrogance, she said, “Come on, open it quickly.”

“Right away.”

Unperturbed, Kazuya reached for the ribbon in a practiced motion and untied it. Victorique seemed captivated by the soft yellow ribbon. Smiling, Kazuya looped the ribbon around the back of the chair and tied it in the shape of a bow.

From the box emerged a dollhouse he had bought in Saubreme. It boasted simple yet charming furnishings—the flower-patterned wallpaper adorning the walls, the damask-woven carpet underfoot, the mantelpiece, and the vintage sofa set were all elaborately crafted. Tiny dolls, no bigger than an adult’s forefinger, were relaxing within the spacious central room.