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Mother and Son

“The rabbit may as well be the main body.”

“Victorique? Did you just say something?””

Two jet-black horses, manes billowing like black smoke, were galloping through the night-shrouded forest. Hooves drummed on the snowy road, and wheels screeched.

The large, black, steel carriage, a dot from above, had left the streets of Saubreme, sped through the suburb, and was making its way through the desolate woods. It was late at night, and the passengers in the carriage were the only living things awake.

Inspector Blois was sleeping like a log, half-slumped to the floor. He was leaning against a pile of shopping boxes with his mouth wide open. At the top of his head was a white rabbit perched on a golden cannon, looking down as if it were on the top of the world. It seemed to have taken a liking to the spot and would not move.

In the seat across, Kazuya was sitting upright like a samurai, staring straight ahead. Victorique was leaning against him, looking sleepy. She was holding a pipe in her hand.

“I was watching my brother,” she mumbled.

“Yeah?”

“I was thinking: what if the rabbit on his head was the main body, and my brother was some sort of armor? He’s moving at the will of the rabbit.”

“So you’re half-asleep. I remember the last time you were sleepwalking. You mentioned something about squirrels and speaking in their language.”

Victorique grunted.

“But an excellent observation nevertheless,” Kazuya said.

Outside the window, the frozen moon glimmered. It seemed as though the king of the underworld’s carriage, carrying the dead, was running through the forest on its way back to his home. It was terribly cold inside. The temperature was completely different from the city.

Kazuya stifled a yawn. “It’s starting to look that way to me, too. The inspector is asleep, while the rabbit is awake.”

“Right?”

“But what if that was really the case? If the rabbit dies, then Inspector Blois will just crumble and never move again?”

“Now that is an excellent observation. Let’s try it right away.”

Rubbing her sleepy eyes, Victorique stretched out her chubby hands toward the rabbit. Sensing disaster, the rabbit glared down at her.

“Prepare yourself!” Victorique rose to her feet.

“Hey, watch out!” Kazuya stopped her.

Inspector Blois slept through it all, oblivious to the danger.

The carriage rocked as it ran over a stone.

Victorique and Kazuya looked out the window, cheek to cheek. They had made it through the never-ending snowy forest and were gradually approaching the familiar village. The train station, which looked like a tiny candy box, was visible in the distance.

The thought of finally returning home brought a smile to Kazuya’s face. He poked Victorique’s cheek, and she slapped his hand away. His smile widened.

“…Hmm?”

Past the station, just as the carriage entered the village road, he saw a lantern swaying as though asking for help. He squinted.

The carriage came to a slow halt. A moment later, the old driver showed up, scratching his frozen gray beard. Kazuya opened the window.

“What’s the matter?” Victorique asked.

“Some people got their wagon stuck,” the old man said reluctantly. “They seem to be residents of the village.”

“That sounds awful.”

“It’s cold, and I feel bad for them, so I’d like to give them a ride. But the gentleman might not like the idea.”

Victorique glanced at Inspector Blois. He was sleeping with his mouth open so wide a whole apple could fit in it. The rabbit on his head nodded grandly in his stead.

“It should be fine,” Victorique said. The driver returned with jaunty steps.

Soon after, they saw a young male servant carrying a lantern and a middle-aged lady walking toward the carriage.

The two looked vaguely familiar to Kazuya. After thinking about it for a bit, he let out a gasp.

“Hmm? What is it?” Victorique asked.

“I remember now. They’re from the gentian plantation just outside the academy. I see them often, a lady and her servant.”

“Gentian? Hmm.”

“Oh, come in! You must be cold.” Kazuya politely invited them in.

The lady entered first, and then the young servant climbed in, thanking them. They gave a start at the sight of Inspector Blois and the rabbit, then gracefully looked away.

The horses neighed, and the carriage started running again. Hooves drummed loudly.

“We’re students at St. Marguerite Academy, and we’re on our way back from a trip,” Kazuya said. “And the one sleeping there is a police inspector from the station.”

“I’ve heard rumors of a peculiar inspector recently,” the lady said.

“That’s him. Have you been living in the village for a while?”

“Yes. For a long time now.” The lady nodded with a soft smile.

Her silver hair—it was difficult to tell what color it was originally—was tied up high. She wore a simple dress and a coat. Her skin was mottled with freckles and spots from repeated sunburns caused by working the fields. Her slightly-sunken blue eyes flickered benevolently. She was a graceful lady who naturally wore a gentle and quiet air about her.

The carriage continued on the village road. Moonlight streamed in through the window.

Suddenly the young servant looked outside and pointed to St. Marguerite Academy in the distance.

“The clock tower is gone,” he said.

“Yeah.” The lady nodded.

Kazuya and Victorique thought they were lady-and-servant, but that didn’t seem to be the case.

“It was a place filled with memories,” the young man went on.

“Where I was blessed with you,” the lady added.

“Isn’t that why we live in this village, Maman?”

“That’s right.”

Victorique’s eyes narrowed, and her glossy, cherry lips tightened.

The lady with the gentle blue eyes was pondering somberly with her right palm on her wrinkled cheek and her elbow on the back of her left hand. It looked like a habit ingrained in her body over the years. She tilted her head slightly and stared dreamily into the distance.

The young man of mixed blood wrapped his arm around the lady’s shoulder reassuringly.

“But it’s fine,” the lady whispered. “I have you with me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. I don’t need glory, fame, admiration, or anything. A quiet life and the ones I love are enough for me.”

They smiled at each other in silence.

The carriage rocked.

Kazuya’s face turned pale. He sat speechless with his back straightened, but there was tension in his cheeks.

Soon the carriage came to a quiet stop near the academy. The horses neighed.

The lady and the young man thanked them and disembarked.

The carriage started running again. In the empty seats, there was a thick scent of the past, the lingering aroma of ghosts.

“V-Victorique,” Kazuya said, his face ashen. “Those two just now…”

“Yes.” Victorique nodded, blowing out smoke.

Her golden hair hung to the floor. Her dress was as red as blood, adorned with layers of luxurious torchon laces. Victorique stared at the empty seat with the eyes of a tiny but ferocious beast.

“You mentioned that they owned a gentian plantation.”

“They do.”

“Gentian is an ingredient of absinthe. They make absinthe.” Victorique paused. She took a puff and slowly blew out smoke. “Because it’s Coco Rose’s favorite.”

“So that was her!” Kazuya yelped.

Inspector Blois groaned.

Kazuya quickly dropped his voice to a whisper. “That was the same woman who was supposed to have been killed by the king twenty-four years ago? The young, pretty, shy, and immensely popular lady in the photos?!”

“Yes.” Victorique nodded softly. “And the real star of tonight’s long-awaited show. An older Coco Rose, the legendary queen of Sauville.”

“But how?”

“There were actually two people who went missing in this case. I thought there was nothing we could do, of course, since it happened so long ago. One was a baby of mixed race that Queen Coco was supposed to have given birth to, according to her letter. If he lived, he would be a young man in his twenties now. And the other one…”

“Who is it?”

“Did you forget? Coco Rose brought a maid from France,” Victorique murmured in her deep, husky voice. “She and Coco were very good friends, and they used to chat for hours in Coco’s bedroom. Accordingly, they looked very much alike.”

The carriage shook. It passed carefully through the main gate of St. Marguerite Academy and slowed down as it drove through the night-shrouded French-style garden. The school building, the dormitories, and everywhere else were dark, with no lights on. The place looked like a ruin that had been abandoned for ages.

“I don’t know if they were just close friends, or if she was a double brought from France, whose role was to die in the place of the queen in case of an emergency,” Victorique continued. “Anyway, I believe that in those final moments, Queen Coco and the maid switched places. A shocking turn of events. The maid was killed and Coco Rose fled the palace with the baby. Then came Nicole Leroux, who was recruited by the culprit’s group. In this case that’s about to be buried in the shadows of history, there were actually three women who looked exactly alike. The queen, the maid, and the dancer. Shuffled by the clutches of fate, they turned into different people, two died, head and bodies buried in different places. Only one survived. The real Queen Coco.”

The carriage came to a slow halt. The horses whinnied.

“She must have returned to the village where she shared memories with the alchemist Leviathan. She raised her child while taking care of a gentian plantation right next to the academy. Her mixed-race son was mistaken for a servant by the villagers, though. No one, not government officials, not the villagers, even dreamed that Queen Coco was here. Why? Because she was originally a very ordinary girl. If she took off her dress and the tiara on her head, and kept a low profile, she would never have to worry about being found.”

There was a gasp, and Inspector Blois woke up.

Kazuya opened the door and disembarked first, then reached out to help Victorique down.

“Either way, the past is far gone,” Victorique mumbled. “This is the afterstory of those who, by the ironic twist of fate, were dragged to the front stage of history. There will be no records of it. The quiet and precious remainder of Coco Rose’s life.”

“Yeah.”

The school was quiet, as though no living soul was around. The French garden was covered in snow, and the pale moon shone its rays all over. Everything—the roofs of the gazebos, the walls of the school building, the iron benches—was frozen in the cold of the winter night. Victorique shivered.

Inspector Blois, with the rabbit on his head, mumbled, “Huh? Where’s the rabbit?”

An owl hooted. It sounded very close, but a look around revealed nothing.

A cold wind blew.

Victorique yawned and rubbed her eyes.

It was very late at night. The long, long day was finally coming to an end.

---

“I see. So that’s what happened.”

Two people were perched on top of a carriage like large black birds, looking down on the world below.

Jade-green fur coat fluttered in the night breeze, like a bird spreading its wings. The feather on her headdress swayed coldly, and her golden hair rippled in the night sky. Green eyes gleamed in the darkness.

“Queen Coco survived by switching places with a look-alike. And now she and the most precious person to her, her son, are living peacefully.”

“Cordelia. What’s on your mind?” the large, black shadow beside her—Brian—grunted. His glossy black coat blended in perfectly with the darkness, but his flaming red hair fluttered ominously in the wind like a torch.

“…Nothing.”

Brian snorted.

“The maid who accompanied Queen Coco from France must have loved her deeply. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have been able to switch places at a moment’s notice.”

“We should get going. It’s time for the kids to go to sleep.”

“I know.”

Cordelia rose to her feet. Brian also stood up, carried Cordelia’s slim figure with great care, and jumped off the carriage, leaping into the distance.

A large black bird with a red head, and a tiny bird with green wings and a long golden tail, flitted through the darkness of the night and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

An owl hooted.

The wind blew, shaking the bare trees in the garden.

---

As Kazuya started walking, he looked over his shoulder.

He thought he heard someone’s voice.

He thought he saw shadows stirring on top of the carriage. But then a strong wind blew, and Kazuya closed his eyes momentarily.

When he opened them, the shadows were gone, and there was nothing but a vast European night.

“What’s wrong?” Victorique asked.

“It’s nothing.” Kazuya shook his head. He accompanied her to the flowerbed maze. “You should go to bed,” he said as they walked through the flowerbeds. “Kids should be asleep at this time.”

“But you’re a kid too, Kujou.”

“I’m a little bit older than you.”

“Why are you acting so smug? There’s barely any difference.”

“But you look more tired than me. And that’s because you’re a little bit younger.” He snickered.

“What are you grinning about?” Victorique kicked his shin.

Kazuya jumped. “Ouch!”

He glared at Victorique a little, then immediately returned to a smile. Holding hands with Victorique, they walked along the path.

The desolate flowerbeds were chilly. But come spring, the colorful flowers would bloom once more. Then Kazuya would come to see Victorique, either through the flower paths or by running up the labyrinthine stairs of the library tower, bringing delicious candies, rumors of unusual incidents, and other souvenirs that would please the little, stubborn, lonely, and beautiful princess.

They would meet again, every day.

Every single day.

Holding hands tightly, Victorique and Kazuya continued strolling through the flowerbed maze that seemed to go on forever.

Sometimes Victorique kicked Kazuya, and he would jump. The sound of Victorique’s snorts and Kazuya’s grumbling echoed in the distance. But still, neither let go of the other’s hand.

The moonlight softly illuminated their tiny figures in white.