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School Without Victorique – Part 05

“You little, foul-mouthed, mean, snarky machine. I thought you valued books, frills, and candy more than life itself. Why did you spend all your time writing crap about me instead of packing those things? Are you actually stupid?”

Mumbling to the absent Victorique, Kazuya scuttled around the house, busily packing stuff for Victorique. Difficult books. A jar filled with pink and orange macaroons. Chocolate bonbons. Candy bars shaped like rabbits and birds. Raspberry jam cookies. A pile of sparkling marron glaces. Round scones filled with black currants.

When he finished packing them all, Kazuya reached for the jade-green, glossy, closet door and opened it. Frilly and lacy dresses popped out and crashed down on Kazuya like a flock of swans.

Kazuya yelped as he fell on his backside. There were all sorts of dresses: ruffled and adorned with snow-white fur, ruby-colored of glossy velour, pink with puffy sleeves, adorned with countless corsages of tiny roses. There were also miniature gobelin hats, tiny ballet shoes with shiny pearl buttons, hoop skirt to puff out dresses, and bloomers with lots of decorative embroidery.

Reminded of Victorique, Kazuya’s face went blank. Then he slowly stood up and began picking up the dresses one by one and stuffing them into the suitcase. As if picking up memories of the past.

Inspector Blois stared at him irritably, until eventually he couldn’t take it anymore. “No!” he snapped. “That hoopskirt right there is specially-designed to puff up that dress. Also, wearing that ruffled blouse under that dress right there will accentuate the ornaments on the sleeves. And remember, you pair it with these flowery high heels. And the hat… Oh, this one!”

“Stop being so fussy, Inspector.”

“You’re an uncultured man who knows nothing about dresses. I have to be completely thorough.”

Kazuya looked up and shot the inspector a glare. “I’m the one picking her up. You stay there with your mouth shut and add more drills to your head instead.”

The inspector went quiet. Leaning against the wall, he watched Kazuya pack up. He was fidgety, but did not say a word.

“It’s that little devil who made me do this,” the inspector grumbled softly. “Why would I want this hard-to-maintain hairdo?”

Once he was done packing, Kazuya closed the suitcase and locked it.

Quietly he rose to his feet. “I’m off, then,” he said to both Ms. Cecile and Inspector Blois.

“Kujou.” The inspector pulled something out of his pocket. It was a long, black envelope.

Kazuya opened it and found a thin, black sheet of paper inside. It read: “Invitation to Phantasmagoria” in English.

“What’s this?” Kazuya asked.

“The monastery normally doesn’t allow outsiders. But tomorrow night, if you have this, you can get in.”

“What kind of a place is this Beelzebub’s Skull?”

“You’ll know when you get there. I’m counting on you, boy.”

Inspector Blois pointed his cannon-like hair at Kazuya and nodded.

---

Weekend at St. Marguerite Academy was sunny, the weather pleasant. Students were hanging out in their favorite spots as usual, cheerfully talking about their long summer vacations. Their voices sounded like the chirping of birds.

From the gazebos. From the benches. From the cozy lawns.

In the corner of St. Marguerite Academy was a mysterious maze of flowerbeds, where students dared not to enter lest they got lost inside.

Kazuya stepped out of the maze, dragging a huge suitcase across the pathway.

Slowly, one step at a time, he lumbered away from the din of merry conversations.

Avril, who was talking with her classmates in a gazebo, spotted him. She wore a curious expression, wondering where he was headed.

Kazuya eventually arrived at the academy’s exit, the huge main gate, adorned with gleaming scrollwork. He passed through the gate and left the academy, right at the end of summer.

The wind blew, shaking the leaves on the trees. The water from the fountain flowed endlessly. Outside the main gate, a quiet gravel road leading to the village stretched into the distance.

---

The village’s small station was quiet. Unlike a week ago, when the station was catering to throngs of students returning from vacation, there weren’t many passengers in the small building with its cute triangular roof, nor in the steam locomotive that entered the platform with a cloud of smoke.

Carrying his huge suitcase, Kazuya jumped onto the train and breathed a sigh of relief. He walked down the aisle, found an empty compartment, entered, and sat down.

The huge suitcase was sitting pompously at his side, as though mimicking its owner’s personality. Kazuya leaned against the suitcase and stared out the window.

The dazzling green vineyards moved further and further away as the train headed for Saubreme, the capital of the Kingdom of Sauville. Outside, the scenery gradually changed from rural to urban. An hour passed, then two. Soon, the train became a little more crowded.

“May I?” A young mother with a little girl asked as she entered the compartment. When she noticed that Kazuya was an oriental, her face hardened cautiously.

“Of course, Madam,” Kazuya replied politely.

The young mother sat down on the seat across from him. The little girl with her climbed onto the seat, her fluffy kid’s dress fluttering. She held onto the window frame and stared at the scenery outside, as though it was her first time being on a train.

Her brown eyes widened. She squeezed her tiny, pudgy hands.

The mother opened the window, and the girl’s long brown hair billowed. She gazed at the passing landscapes, her little mouth gaping open. The wind blew the white bonnet off her head and fell onto Kazuya’s lap. He picked it up and gently placed it on the girl’s head.

Slowly, he pulled his eyes from the girl.

The whistle blew.

The young mother took out a handkerchief and handed it to Kazuya. Kazuya whispered a word of thanks and wiped his eyes in embarrassment.

He sniffed.

Tears were flowing.

“You must have come from far away,” the lady said.

“I-I did…”

“Were you reminded of your sister?”

“No. I just… Your little daughter reminded me of someone.”

The young mother smiled as Kazuya returned the handkerchief. She then took the girl, who had started rubbing her eyes drowsily, in both hands and placed her on her lap. The girl looked up at Kazuya and smiled.

The train arrived at the capital, Saubreme.

---

Located in the center of Saubreme was Charles de Gillet train station, where passengers and porters in red uniforms streamed along the steel bridge connecting the dozens of platforms. Up above was a glass ceiling, supported by gigantic black pillars of brick.

Kazuya passed the time with a glass of milk at a large café. Then he boarded the Old Masquerade, a train bound for Lithuania, which finally entered the platform in the evening.

A sleeper express train that ran across Western Europe, the Old Masquerade consisted of five cars, with spacious private compartments on the first-class coaches that contained two beds each. The conductor checked for the names, faces, and passports of the passengers lining up on the platform, while porters carried their large suitcases.

In front of Kazuya was a quiet-looking girl of about the same age. She was quite pretty, with black hair, dark-blue eyes, and pasty skin. Kazuya helped her with her heavy luggage.

“Thank you,” the girl murmured.

Behind Kazuya stood a thin man who appeared to be in his mid-twenties. He was dressed primly in a suit, and his brown hair was neatly combed. He was a serious-looking young man with nondescript features.

As the passengers boarded the train, the whistle sounded. A short time later, the iron doors were closed from the outside.

Kazuya entered his own coach and placed the huge suitcase next to his bed. He sighed. As he settled down on the chair, he heard something slamming the door from the corridor, followed by a snarl.

“Wh-What’s wrong?”

Kazuya opened the door and saw an old man with gray hair and a white beard, about seventy years old, standing by the corridor. His clothes and shoes were not exactly of the finest quality, but they were pristine nonetheless. Wrinkles partly covered his green eyes. He was of thin build. Apparently, he had slammed his huge luggage against the door. He was grumbling under his breath.

“Are you all right?” Kazuya asked.

The old man sniffed audibly. “If you’re worried, then give me a hand, oriental.”

“That’s uncalled for,” Kazuya huffed. “So where’s your coach?”

Kazuya took his luggage and carried it into the man’s room anyway. Mumbling something, the old man reached into his pocket to give Kazuya some coins, to which the boy refused. Again, he mumbled.

“Where are you headed?” Kazuya asked casually as he proceeded to leave.

The old man frowned, his wrinkly face clouding over. Kazuya’s feet froze.

“To Beelzebub’s Skull, oriental boy.”