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School Without Victorique – Part 02

“Victorique? Where are you? Maybe she’s back to hiding in the library ’cause the students are back from vacation.”

St. Marguerite Grand Library, a gray stone tower hidden at the far end of the academy’s spacious campus, stood in silence, as it had for the past three hundred years.

Though one of the finest halls of knowledge in Europe, not many people knew of its existence due to the academy’s secretive policy. Its walls were discolored from exposure to the elements. Rarely did anyone enter the building.

Kazuya opened the small leather door and entered the library.

“Victorique?”

Inside, bookshelves were built into the walls, filled with books all the way up to the ceiling far above, where majestic religious paintings glistened. A labyrinthine set of narrow wooden staircases connected the bookshelves like countless intertwined snakes.

Kazuya stopped and peered far above. He searched for the familiar golden glimmer of what would seem like the tail of some mysterious ancient creature. He thought he saw a faint glint, but the light of the morning sun streaming through the window near the ceiling obscured his vision.

Kazuya sighed. “Hello? Are you there? Who am I kidding… You never answer even when you’re around. I guess I don’t have much of a choice but to climb up there,” he mumbled.

He straightened his posture and began ascending the complex, serpentine stairs with measured footsteps.

Up.

And up.

Still going up.

“That little… Why don’t you say something when you go to a different spot? This school is huge, and since you’re small, despite all the puffy frills, finding you is a pain.” Anger flared within him, and he began shaking his fist. “You have a sharp tongue, you’re fickle, and you always make me mad. Why are you so mean? Are you mean to everyone? Or just me? Victorique! Hello—Huh?”

When Kazuya finally reached the top, he stopped and looked around.

Situated at the very top of the library tower was a lush conservatory, where garish tropical flowers grew thickly. A cool, late-summer breeze blew through the small window, shaking the vibrant foliage.

Complex books and small pink macaroons were scattered on the staircase landing. Perplexed, Kazuya glanced around at the empty conservatory, then slowly approached the spot where the books and candies lay, got down on one knee, and began studying the scene.

Kazuya pointed to an empty space in the middle of the floor. “Based on the angle of the books and the location of the macaroons, this is where she sat. She was facing this way while reading, cursing as usual while scattering candy all around.”

His eyes narrowed. “But she’s not here now. What happened? Ah!”

He found a white ceramic pipe lying among the books. He picked it up and brought it closer to his face, studying it intently that his eyes almost crossed.

“It’s Victorique’s pipe. The one she uses to blow smoke into my face. And then she looks pleased when she sees me coughing. It’s definitely her pipe. But what’s it doing here?”

Kazuya stood up. Wondering where Victorique went, he searched deeper in the conservatory, the elevator hall, and the small square chest on the staircase landing—Victorique’s hiding place.

Fear suddenly gripped his heart. After examining the conservatory one more time, Kazuya hurried down the stairs. His hands, clutching Victorique’s pipe to his chest, were shaking.

He ran down the stairs, losing his usual straight posture.

“Kujou…”

That day, when summer break was right around the corner, the day she revealed the identity of the alchemist Leviathan. He recalled the words Victorique said as they walked in the garden hand-in-hand.

“You can’t find me?”

Victorique’s husky voice was filled with sorrow.

Clear, deep-green eyes, sometimes seemingly mature, like a person who had lived a hundred years.

Her hair, like a golden veil, hanging down to the floor, sometimes billowing in anger.

As Kazuya rushed down the stairs, he remembered his reply.

“Not really.”

“It takes a little bit of time, but I’ll always find you.”

“Like I did just now.”

As soon as he made it down to the first floor, Kazuya left the St. Marguerite Grand Library and walked down the pathway.

The gardens glistened in the summer morning sun, the flowerbeds and verdant lawns dazzling to the eyes.

A girl with short, blonde hair that was tanned to a light brown, was coming from the other side—Avril Bradley. Walking briskly with a large suitcase, she stopped and looked at Kazuya. She was about to call out to him, but when she noticed that he was in a hurry, she thought better of it.

Kazuya stopped at the entrance to the flowerbed maze, then started marching through the complex garden.

Maybe I’m just overthinking things… She’s fickle, after all… Maybe a sudden thought came to her and she went somewhere. She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she left her precious pipe behind… I’m sure that’s it.

He continued onward. Frowning anxiously, Kazuya made it through the flowerbed and arrived at a small house resembling an elaborate dollhouse.

“Victorique?” he called, scurrying to the window she always sat at.

The window was ajar. He peered inside. What was usually a house full of books, candy, and pretty furniture looked dark and empty, as if no one had lived there for a while.

“Victorique? Are you there? Where did you go… Victorique!”

“She’s not here, Kujou,” came a voice.

Kazuya looked up.

Inside the dim house, a door opened, and a person emerged. She had large round glasses and curly brown hair. Her brown eyes were swollen red.

It was Ms. Cecile.

---

The inside of the small house was empty, and dark, despite it being morning. As Kazuya stared through the window, Ms. Cecile lumbered out of the room. The faint sound of shoes turning toward the front door echoed loudly in the empty house. There was a loud thud; she seemed to have tripped. Then she got up and continued walking.

A moment later, Ms. Cecile stepped out the front door, rubbing her elbow painfully. She inserted a cute little key into the brass doorknob and turned it. She looked crestfallen.

“What happened to Victorique?” Kazuya asked. “I saw her lying around under some trees yesterday.”

Ms. Cecile sniveled. She frowned, holding back tears.

“Her father’s men came to pick her up last night,” she replied.

“You mean Marquis de Blois?”

“They’re transferring her temporarily to a monastery far from here.”

Ms. Cecile didn’t say much otherwise. She looked up at the tiny candy house, and sighed.

“Why?!” Kazuya exclaimed. He couldn’t believe what he just heard. “This is all too sudden. Did she do something?”

“It all happened so quickly that I couldn’t get a grasp of the situation. But her coming to the academy was just as sudden too. It’s what her father always does, apparently. I was shocked when they came for her in the middle of the night. I kicked up a lot of fuss.”

“But why…”

“I have a letter for you, though.”

“A letter?!”

Ms. Cecile removed her round glasses, wiped away her tears, and put them back on again. She then carefully produced a piece of folded paper from her breast pocket.

Kazuya took it with shaky hands. It was a beautiful writing paper, a pale purple color with numerous rose patterns. There was only one sheet of paper.

“They dragged her here from the library, but Victorique told them to give her a bit of time,” Ms. Cecile murmured. She pointed to a lovely table with jade ornaments that was visible from the window, and wiped another tear. “She walked over to that table and started writing a letter to you. The grown men with her couldn’t stop her. They just waited silently for her to finish writing it. She was desperate. She handed it to me with tears in her eyes. She was then taken out the front door and put on a big, black carriage. They even blindfolded her.”

Ms. Cecile pressed the letter to Kazuya’s chest, then disappeared into the flowerbeds, hiding her tears.

Kazuya looked back at the candy house. A white quill pen and a round, ruby-colored ink jar were left strewn on the pretty table in the dark room. The small chair that came with the table lay toppled on the floor.

Kazuya just stared at the room, his lips tightly pursed. His eyes were grim, tinged with anger and sadness. His lips quivered. Wearing a forbidding look, he headed for the flowerbed.

The light of the morning sun fell on him.

Slowly, Kazuya opened the letter.