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School Without Victorique – Part 06

Kazuya and the old man made their way to the lounge of the moving train. Located between the first and second-class cars, it was filled with opulent art deco tables and chairs, couches, and oriental flower vases.

The car was darkly lit by the lamps’ orange glow. The old man took a seat in the corner and ordered a cup of tea. Kazuya followed and did the same.

Letting his long white hair hang down on the couch, the old man began talking. “Beelzebub’s Skull is a secluded monastery, oriental.”

“I know. I’m headed there as well.”

“There are many young girls in the monastery. They’re all nuns, of course. My daughter is there too, and I’m seeing her tomorrow for the first time in a while. I haven’t seen her in a long time, and I miss her.”

The old man smiled. His wrinkles rippled.

The waiter brought tea to the table. With a quivering hand, the old man lifted the cup to his mouth.

“Beelzebub’s Skull is a building that looks like a block of rock. The interior is a spiral, with numerous small rooms built on either side of its long, winding corridor. From the outside, however, it looks round and scraggy, like the head of a giant fly. Hence the name.”

“The head of a fly…”

“Yes. Only old-timers like me may know this, but the monastery was once a labyrinth built by the king of that country. When a terrible plague broke out, the king didn’t try to save his people, only himself. He designed the corridors to be winding to prevent the plague from wandering in, and hid in the innermost room.”

Kazuya also brought a cup of hot tea to his mouth.

“But according to the legends passed down among the citizens,” the old man continued, “this plague took the form of a demon. It took countless lives all throughout the kingdom, opened holes in people’s bodies, and made them bleed black blood. And one day, it finally arrived. One night, it stalked Beelzebub’s Skull with quiet footsteps. It slowly advanced through the labyrinth, and finally, in the morning, it found the hiding king. With its large body, hammered with countless rivets, it embraced the trembling king while he begged for help. The rivets made countless holes in the king’s body, and black blood gushed out of them. The king died screaming curses, and with his death, the plague also departed from his kingdom. It happened hundreds of years ago.”

“Really…”

“But it’s all in the distant past. It’s nothing but a legend now. My daughter doesn’t care about such things. She’s working hard for the night of the Phantasmagoria.”

“Night of Phantasmagoria?” Kazuya mumbled as he set his cup back down on the saucer.

The old man’s eyes narrowed in surprise. “You don’t know about it? Then why are you headed to the monastery?”

“I, uhh… I have a friend there. I’m going to pick her up. So what’s this Phantasmagoria thing?”

“There’s a rumor that Beelzebub’s Skull was used by Sauville’s Academy of Science for their agents during the last Great War. Despite its historical significance, it’s now being used solely as a monastery. However, once a month, only on nights with a full moon, they hold a secret soiree—the nuns’ Night of Phantasmagoria. And tomorrow night is a full moon. This train is full because of all the guests who have been invited to the soiree.”

“A secret evening party…”

The old man produced a piece of paper from his pocket and showed it to Kazuya. He gasped. It was the same curious black invitation letter that Inspector Blois gave him when he left St. Marguerite Academy.

The old man put the letter back in his pocket. “Well, it’s a kind of show. Flying ghosts, vanishing lady, and magical limelights illuminating the monastery. The best Old Powers are gathered from all over Europe for the show—in other words, venerable magicians. People secretly come from all over the continent to watch their magic in action. I thought you were one of those people, but I suppose not.”

“Well, actually, I have an invitation as well.”

“I knew it.”

“Yes.”

“According to the old magicians, the monastery has always had a special magical power that is amplified with the full moon. That’s why they hold the soiree during those nights. Personally, I have doubts with the way they do things. I think it’s too ostentatious for a monastery. My daughter is a nun, but I feel that she is being manipulated by their magic. So I decided to check up on her.”

Fiddling with his beard, the old man let out a sigh.

---

The Old Masquerade blended with the stillness of the night as it slowly crossed the European continent, billowing black smoke. A darkness like black ink had settled outside, and except for the occasional passengers boarding at the stations where the train stopped, it was quiet. Hardly any voices could be heard.

An old man dressed in a monk’s garb walked down the corridor as the Old Masquerade once again rattled into motion. Carrying very little luggage, he wore a heavy-looking robe with golden embroidery. As Kazuya passed the old monk, he thought he spotted a familiar red hair at the far end of the corridor.

Kazuya let out a gasp.

The old monk lifted his head. “What’s wrong?” he asked in accented English.

“Nothing,” Kazuya replied. “I just thought I saw someone I knew.”

The monk glanced in the direction Kazuya had looked. In the far end of a second-class car, one of the only crude wooden doors of the luxurious train was swinging, as if someone had just closed it.

“Beyond that door is the cargo hold,” the monk said. “I doubt there’s anyone in there.”

“I see.”

The monk nodded and continued down the corridor. Kazuya was about to walk away, too, but curiosity got a hold of him. He turned to the crude door and approached slowly.

I know I saw red hair… That fiery color could only belong to that guy I met at the academy’s clock tower…

It reminded him of the young magician, Brian Roscoe.

He thought back to the man’s ominous foretelling of the future.

“She is Europe’s last and most powerful weapon.”

“A big, big storm awaits the cub.”

What the old man said about the night of Phantasmagoria also came to mind.

There’s no way Brian Roscoe is actually on the train…

As soon as he opened the door to the cargo hold, there was an eerie flapping of wings. Kazuya yelped.

In the dim, dusty space, countless white birds were flying about. A closer inspection revealed them to be in large steel cages, flapping, startled by Kazuya’s sudden intrusion. Their wings gleamed ominously in the dark.

Kazuya looked around. There were no signs of people. However, there was a huge cabinet with decorative letters, a table with a mirror, a square box with a saber still stuck in it, and other items that looked like magician’s tools.

“There’s no one here,” Kazuya murmured.

He took a few steps deeper into the cargo hold.

As he glanced around, he found a familiar object. A Mechanical Turk. It was a small square box with the upper body of a doll attached on top, its arms outstretched over the chessboard.

It was a mysterious automatic doll that played chess with humans. The box was not big enough for an adult to fit inside. It owed its massive popularity to the fact that it could move chess pieces at will. Kazuya stared at the face of the funny-looking doll with its pointed beard.

He saw this same doll in front of the theater when he went to Saubreme alone right before summer vacation. If he remembered correctly, Brian Roscoe’s show was about to start, and the man had it carried to the theater.

That red hair… Maybe he’s actually here…

He brought his face closer to the doll. The carved wooden face looked Turkish, with a turban around its head and a dark beard that pointed to the left and right.

“What a weird-looking face.” Kazuya chuckled. “Ouch!”

The Mechanical Turk raised its club-shaped arm and smacked Kazuya on the head.

Kazuya was taken aback. “It hit me! Wh-What’s going on? How did it even move? It couldn’t have understood what I said, could it…?”

Crouching on the floor, he reached for the square box. He found a lid on the left and right sides. First, he opened the left side and peered inside.

“Some kind of machine?”

Inside were numerous small springs and gears. Kazuya closed the lid, then opened the one on the right side. He found the same thing. He could see the floor through the gaps between the springs and gears.

Kazuya examined the Mechanical Turk for a while, but gave up when he realized there really was no one inside. Sighing, he sat down on the Mechanical Turk box.

“That shook me. How does it work? It hit me so hard, like it understood what I said.”

He looked back at the little doll’s head. It seemed like the doll’s black eyeballs turned to him, but he didn’t notice it.

Kazuya let out another sigh. “It’s just like her. I just study her face a little too closely, and she slaps me with both hands because she hates it.”

He stared at the white ceramic pipe he pulled out of his pocket. Another sigh.

“Victorique, I can’t believe you’re so far away from the academy. Why do you always have to make me worry? You’re such a handful.”

Through the window of the cargo hold, he could see the dark sky and the dark blue of the Mediterranean Sea that stretched parallel to the tracks. He stared at the scene dejectedly.

He felt angry at Inspector Blois, for transferring Victorique, and then subsequently whining about how they couldn’t let her die. It was probably his father, Marquis de Blois, a leading figure in the Ministry of the Occult who ordered him. Kazuya bit his lip as he stared at the pale moonlight on the dark sea. He felt sad, frustrated, bitter. He exhaled when he remembered Victorique’s tiny figure.

I don’t think St. Marguerite Academy is the best place for her, of course. But I can’t let her stay where she is right now. I will find Victorique, and then we’ll go back to the safety of the academy together. I’ll return her to the library, to the middle of the stacks of books and candies. Then I’ll climb the long, winding stairs, gasping for breath, to see her every day. She’s been smiling a lot recently, too. Feels like we’re getting closer…

He leaned against the doll. “I gotta save her quick. I’ll deliver your stuff, and then… Ouch!”

The Mechanical Turk smacked Kazuya again.

“What is going on here?”

The doll’s arms kept banging on Kazuya’s head like a drum, seemingly amused. Kazuya jumped and looked back at the doll. Its black eyeballs were no longer moving.

“This weird doll is just like her, all right. Ow!”

The doll slowly stopped moving. Kazuya stared at the doll from a distance. He continued observing it for a while.

“What’s its problem?”

Kazuya left the cargo hold and walked down the narrow corridor.

Outside, the sea surged quietly. The moon reflected in the water rippled along with the waves.