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Jailhouse Song – Part 02

On the second floor of the Mushanokouji residence was a sunny guest bedroom.

From the green scrollwork ceiling hung a stone lantern-shaped chandelier. The walls were decorated with oriental patterns in red and gold. In the center of the room stood a canopied bed draped with lace.

“I’ve drawn a bath for you,” Ruri said as she left. Pleasant steam wafted from a small round door at the back of the room.

Victorique stood in her dirty yukata, staring blankly. Slowly, she raised her head and nodded with a hint of conceit. “Hmph, a bath.”

Then, she looked down, lost in thought. “The champion and challenger, both seemingly connected to the Christmas Truce Murder. And the challenger’s manager, Mitch. It seems the champion really didn’t want to face the challenger again. He even bribed the police to have him arrested. Was it because he was involved in the unsolved case? Or was there another reason?”

She inclined her head.

“Something Eddie and Mitch mentioned earlier caught my attention. They learned boxing from American and German student champions during the war. How is that possible? Germany was America’s enemy.”

“Did the Christmas Truce lead them to meet the German student champion? Did that inspire William Trayton and Eddie Sawyer to take up boxing after the war? And why did an American soldier named Luke Jackson die that day? It doesn’t make sense.”

She sighed.

“A handsome champion from a distinguished family, a humble challenger from the South who loved his mother, and a peculiar manager. An unknown New World. A vast, uncharted land where even the mysteries are busy. Where time flows so quickly.”

She stared intently at the wall, her cold, beautiful face as still as a doll’s.

“First, the bath. Yes, the bath of the New World awaits.”

Victorique, unusually jaunty, disappeared through the white round door.

In the second-floor guest bedroom, sunlight streamed through the stained glass into the small, bright bathroom.

Victorique sank into a round porcelain bathtub with golden eagle-claw feet. The warm steam turned her whole body a rosy pink. Even her cruel, green eyes softened, as if the ice within them was melting.

“This is a nice bath indeed,” she murmured contentedly. “Come to think of it, there wasn’t a bath in the jailhouse. According to Kujou, this is Ruri’s house, not mine. But Ruri doesn’t seem to mind and is actually welcoming me. Kujou’s caring sister, and that little human who likes to push and pull me around. Quite endearing.”

Recalling something unpleasant, her delicate face suddenly scrunched up.

“Their father was terrifying, though.”

She shook her head. Sinking into the tub, her white-blonde hair spread out enchantingly.

“My brother, on the other hand…”

She shivered and ducked under the water. Her silvery hair glistened in the steam. Moments passed.

“Jail, jail.”

A cheerful, discordant singing drifted in the sunlight and steam.

“Jail, jail!”

She rested her chin on the edge of the tub and smiled. Her silvery hair floated on the water’s surface.

“I entered the cell and came out!”

Victorique hung her head. “Ugh.”

The hallucinations were starting again. She clutched her head and closed her eyes to bear it.

“It’s fine. This place… is safe.”

Leaning against the faucet shaped like a golden lion, she closed her eyes. Steam and the sound of water filled the bathroom.

“Gray Wolf… My evil daughter.”

“I won’t… let you… escape.”

“Hmm?”

She heard the terrifying voice of a man.

“Run away, my daughter.”

And a woman’s voice.

Feeling dizzy, Victorique blinked and leaned against the faucet in distress. As the faucet turned slowly to the right, hot water began to pour from the lion’s mouth. Victorique closed her eyes and drifted into a world of dreams and illusions.

Water began to overflow from the tub. It pooled on the floor and spread from the bathroom to the bedroom.

Victorique kept her eyes shut, groaning.

Meanwhile, downstairs in the living room, the dressmaking was progressing steadily on the low table.

“Let’s add this cute lace to the collar and sleeves,” Ruri said with a giggle.

“No, this one’s better,” the cook argued.

“Why do you keep insisting on a fierce design?”

The two women were bickering. Rokushou excitedly peered at the dress design.

Kazuya joined in. “A dress! Wow!”

“No! Men should stay out of this,” Ruri said.

Kazuya fell in beside Rokushou, watching eagerly.

“I’ve been thinking,” Ruri said. “Kazuya, you should really write a letter to Father soon.”

“She’s right,” the cook concurred. “If you keep saying you’ll wait until you find a job and an apartment, it’ll take forever.”

“Well, actually, I’ve found a potential job. It’s with a small newspaper company. I’ll explain more later. But finding an apartment is tough. The ads say there are no vacancies.”

“Yup. So first, the letter. Wait, a letter? I feel like I’m forgetting something.” Ruri racked her brains.

A hot summer breeze blew in through the window, rustling the cranberry flowers in the vase.

“Right! A letter for Victorique arrived earlier. A half-naked man delivered it. Maybe an acquaintance of Victorique’s? Anyway, it’s on the table. Huh?”

She looked up at the ceiling. Startled, the cook swallowed her rice cracker and coughed.

Kazuya also looked up and asked, “Rain? Is it raining on the first floor?”

Pitter-patter, pitter-patter… Pitter…

“No, it’s not rain. It’s a leak! Ruri!”

Water began pouring down from the ceiling, cascading from the second floor to the first floor like a waterfall.

In the guest bedroom on the second floor, Victorique stood dazed in the middle of the soaking wet floor, wrapped snugly in a white towel.

She held her head, muttering, “Is this… a hallucination from the past? Ugh, my head. It’s going blank.” She shook her head.

Kazuya burst into the room. Ruri, Rokushou, and the cook followed close behind. Victorique hurriedly tried to hide behind the curtain.

“Victorique! What happened?”

Kazuya lifted the curtain and found her. He studied her worriedly. Victorique, trembling, didn’t answer. After a moment, she finally opened her eyes and took in the scene around her. She shivered.

“Oh… Victorique, don’t worry about it,” Ruri said. “It’s flooded, so you can’t stay here for a while, b-but it’s not burning down or collapsing.”

Victorique, still dripping wet, cast her gaze down dejectedly. Ruri nervously handed her an envelope.

“I completely forgot to give this to you. Sorry.”

Victorique looked up at Ruri, wondering if she was angry. Kazuya took the envelope instead. It was of high quality, with embossed floral patterns. The ink was smudged, rendering the address almost unreadable. A leaf-shaped metal key fell out.

“It’s a key,” Ruri said.

“A key for what?” Kazuya wondered.

They tried to read the letter, but the water had smudged it, and the only legible words were: Carousel, corner of the third floor, pony, and non-residential.

They examined the envelope again. The address started with a V—likely Victorique’s name. They turned it over to check the sender.

“I can read it!” Kazuya said. “It starts with W. Walter Bluecandy?”

Victorique also peered in, wrapped in the wet towel, her damp hair sticking to her. She looked like a drenched kitten. Still feeling dizzy, she wobbled.

“It’s someone I know,” she said, still hanging her head.

“Wait, you have a friend already?”

Victorique shook her head, sending droplets from her wet hair flying onto Kazuya’s face and clothes. Still disheartened, she started a clumsy impersonation. She extended her arms horizontally and jumped.

“Wonder Girl is my ideal girl!”

“Oh! Bon Vivant? The grandson of the Bluecandy family and author of the Wonder Girl comics. So, this key…”

“Yes.”

Kazuya handed the leaf-shaped key to Victorique and showed her the smudged, barely legible letter.

“It’s likely a key to the Carousel,” Victorique said.