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One More Time! – Part 03

The guests exchanged half-doubtful glances, then regarded La Guardia, who remained confident even in such circumstances, with a mixture of apprehension.

The breeze swept in through the shattered window, swirling through the hall, rustling the hems of the ladies’ gowns. It toppled plates and scattered the feast across the floor. It buffeted against Victorique, causing her to stagger.

Observing this, La Guardia smiled even more audaciously. She extended her wrinkled arms toward Victorique and mimicked the gesture of strangling her.

The warm breeze intensified, violently ruffling the cloth enveloping Victorique. Within its folds, her slender form swayed, like a young sapling threatened by a typhoon.

Victorique emitted a soft, feeble groan. La Guardia flashed a sympathetic smile.

Victorique crumpled to her knees. The golden pipe turned toward the high ceiling. Above, the chandelier teetered dangerously. The wind howled stronger still.

In a raspy voice, Victorique murmured, “Why would he climb all the way back here? That attendant of mine… never fails to…”

She shook her head, her silvery locks quivering like wisps. Suddenly, Victorique raised her gaze, fixing a glare upon La Guardia. Her body trembled within its shroud.

“Golden Queen of Money. The match… is not over yet.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

“O-Of course. I alone have detected the fabrication in your family lore.”

“Hmm… And what might that be?” La Guardia chuckled.

“The ruse,” Victorique reiterated, but her words were drowned out by La Guardia’s merry laughter. The guests watched with bated breath.

The elderly physician, who had been attending to the wounded, approached with concern etched on his features. “Young lady, are you all right?” he asked. He seemed to chew on his words. “My area of expertise lies in neurology, you see. It’s apparent you’re grappling with substance abuse, though I can’t determine from which drug. The symptoms appear to be rare. Hmm…” He scrutinized Victorique’s face.

“Ku… Kujou…” Victorique whispered softly.

Meanwhile, La Guardia continued sneering. Victorique fell to her knees again. The old woman looked down at the diminutive and seemingly defenseless girl, exuding confidence.

“There is no ruse. Am I right, little girl?”

No one replied. The hall descended into an eerie silence, punctuated solely by the wind’s mournful whistle through the shattered windows.

“Ku… Kujou…” Victorique groaned.

And then, she lifted her pained visage. La Guardia’s brow furrowed slightly.

Victorique’s emerald eyes gleamed. “Kujou,” she muttered hoarsely, fixing La Guardia with a defiant glare.

“L-Let us settle this… One more time!”

Kazuya, Coup de Grâce, Troll, and Mary trudged up the stairs together, wiping sweat from their brows.

Mary produced a small chocolate from her pocket and handed it to the others. “This is perfect for times like this. You should have some,” she suggested.

“Yeah, it really boosts your energy,” Kazuya agreed.

“Wow, you’re right. Oh, now that you mention it, I’m getting hungry,” Troll added. “You know, my favorite is a freshly-fried trout sandwich with plenty of tartar sauce. It’s the first thing I had when I arrived in the New World.”

Kazuya, Mary, and Troll exchanged whispers, before all turning their attention to Coup de Grâce.

Coup de Grâce popped the chocolate into his mouth and let out a sigh.

Mary’s expression darkened as she spoke in a solemn tone, “So, your family was poor but happy until the night your were attacked by a robber.”

Then, inexplicably, she fell silent, absently fiddling with the medal on her chest. A deep, curious sigh escaped her lips.

“That’s right.” Coup de Grâce nodded before continuing his story. “My family was small—just my grandmother, a first-generation immigrant, my father Toto, and me, the little son.”

“That’s uncommon for an Italian family,” Mary said. “Usually, they’re pretty big.”

“Yeah, it was unusual. But it was a good time. Then one night, my father was attacked by a robber. Nonna was asleep upstairs, but I was inside the counter at the store, trying to learn my father’s work.”

“That must have been terrifying!” Mary exclaimed.

Coup de Grâce shrugged. “I overheard their conversation. My father pleaded, ‘I have to support my son… my wife… with my own hands…’ But the robber mocked him. ‘You’re willing to lose your life over just fifty cents, huh, old timer?’ My father muttered, ‘Our livelihood depends on this. You wouldn’t understand.’ Then he cried out for help, but no one came. And then, there was a gunshot.”

“Oh!”

“A bullet pierced my father’s chest, and I could only watch helplessly from below as blood spread through his apron. He fell, trying to shield me. He said, ‘Coup de Grâce,’ meaning the finishing blow.”

“And then, you took that name.”

“That’s right. That night, I couldn’t do anything to save my father, just trembling in silence. I never even saw the robber’s face, so he was never caught. Every day, I felt the frustration of possibly passing him on the street unknowingly.”

As Mary listened, her face contorted with emotion.

The four continued their ascent, with Coup de Grâce leading, followed by Kazuya, Troll, and Mary. Each step seemed to carry them deeper into the history of the Coup de Grâce family.

Mary wiped sweat from her chin, raising her head. “What a story!” she exclaimed again, her tone laden with pain. She flicked her medal with her finger a couple of times.

“Well, it’s all in the past now,” Coup de Grâce said.

“Yes, but for you… it’s not over, is it?”

“Yeah, well… I guess.”

“Sins must be atoned for!” Mary said in a strained voice.

Coup de Grâce studied her curiously.

Kazuya lifted his head. “Oh?”

The four stopped in their tracks. Footsteps and voices echoed from above.

A group of people dressed as employees were hurrying down the stairs. Apparently, only the top floor was locked, while the doors on the lower floors remained open. They asked them about the situation upstairs.

“The fire’s spreading!” one said.

“You’re heading up now? Are you out of your minds?”

“You absolutely should not go up there!”

“You want to help the guests on the top floor? Are you crazy or suicidal?”

They pushed past Kazuya and his companions, racing down the stairs.

As they passed the staff rushing down, Coup de Grâce resumed his story. “So when I grew up…”

The faces of the employees descending the stairs carried great urgency. Despite arriving with hope in the New World, they now resembled a swarm of nameless souls, toiling desperately and eventually succumbing, lost like forgotten bones. It seemed as though they sought to turn back time, disappearing into the folds of the past.

“As you can see, I became your typical third-generation immigrant. Not as industrious as the first generation, nor as settled as the second. I couldn’t quite find my niche, so I lived in frustration, hopping from one job to another. And then, one day…”

Coup de Grâce’s expression brightened, reminiscing about something pleasant.

“That’s when I crossed paths with Bon, also a third-generation immigrant.”

Kazuya nodded in understanding. Coup de Grâce smiled wistfully.

“I recognized him instantly from various social columns in the newspapers. It was odd seeing the son of a distinguished family standing in a grimy neighborhood late at night. I passed by three times, curious, but when I returned home and rain started falling, I went back for another look. He was still there, so I gathered my courage and approached him with an umbrella.”

“Ah, so that’s how you two met.”

Coup de Grâce nodded enthusiastically. He spread his hands out.

“Yeah. Then he said, ‘I can’t fly anymore!’ and I replied, ‘Then let’s run!’ and took his hand. And Bon followed me. He probably doesn’t remember that conversation, but I do. I won’t forget. It’s very ironic, really… or maybe it was fate. We just happened to be on the same wavelength, you know.” His eyes took on a faraway look. “Before I knew it, we became Bon & Coup, the duo behind Wonder Girl. It happened in the blink of an eye. That’s why Bon is so important to me.”

He fell silent, then resumed climbing the stairs. After a moment, Coup de Grâce spoke again.

“Linlin, Troll. Listen close. For immigrants in this country, the stories of the first generation who crossed the sea become vital legends for each family. Mary, you get it, don’t you? The significance of the tales of fathers and grandfathers who struggled to establish themselves in the New World?”

Mary nodded in agreement, still nibbling on chocolate. “Absolutely!” Her voice was dark.

“So, Linlin, Troll,” Coup de Grâce continued. “For your descendants, your own stories will eventually become legends, too. Especially you, Linlin. You will talk about what happened here today. Your tale will become something they cherish.”

Kazuya blushed. Coup de Grâce cast him a sidelong glance.

“For me, well… The small legend of my own family began on the day Nonna journeyed from Italy to this country.”

Kazuya nodded as he climbed the stairs toward the future, one step at a time. Mary’s expression grew even tighter. Coup de Grâce continued his tale, his voice tinged with melancholy.