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Silent Black Victorique – Part 02

At the furthest end of the labyrinth was a dim, eerie room with only a flickering orange lamp to provide light. In the shadows of what seemed like a windowless loft, where the violet rays of the evening sun did not reach, a small, dark shape lay still.

Kazuya stared at the small piece of black cloth.

He took a couple of steps closer.

“There you are, Victorique.”

His voice was soft. Gently, he reached out his hand.

Under a heavy black robe worn by nuns, something was trembling in fear. Something tiny, like a little critter.

“It’s you, right?”

Kazuya gently put his hand on the cloth and pulled it. A hesitant, husky groan came from within.

“It’s me,” Kazuya said with relief.

*cough*

“I said it’s me. Come on out.”

“Achoo!”

“Was that a sneeze? Are you cold? Here, I got your stuff. Victorique?”

A small golden head peeked out from within the stirring black cloth. Relieved, Kazuya crouched down and peered into Victorique’s pale face.

Moist, tearful eyes stared back at him.

“…”

“Victorique?”

“…”

“Hello?”

Save for a crude desk and chair, there was nothing else in the room. No books, candies, fluffy clothes. It was chilly. An untouched meal lay on the desk.

Victorique’s face, her cheeks, once so rosy and puffy that anyone would want to poke it, had lost its color. Her golden hair, which used to swell in rage and looked like the tail of some ancient creature, was stuck to her face.

But her eyes remained unchanged, quiet and melancholic, gleaming darkly. She was staring at Kazuya as if he was the only thing she saw.

“Victorique…”

“…”

Her pale, small lips quivered. “Wh-What…”

“What is it?” Kazuya asked.

“Wh-What took you so long?” she murmured in her husky voice.

“I’m sorry. I got here as fast as I could.”

“I don’t want… your excuses.” Her voice was trembling.

“S-Sorry.” Kazuya poked her, and she flinched.

Slowly, fearfully, Kazuya embraced Victorique.

“You’ve gotten even smaller,” he said.

She sneezed. Her miniscule, fragile body was shaking under the cloth.

“So much smaller…”

*cough*

“Or maybe you were always this tiny. I’m not really sure how big you are exactly, since you’re always covered in frills. Oh, that reminds me. Ms. Cecile told me that you didn’t bring any clothes or snacks, so I brought some for you.”

“…Bring them to me.”

“Uh, right.”

Kazuya darted back to the suitcase and opened it. A pile of ruffles that Kazuya crammed inside popped out. White bonnet with fur, a stylish red dress, three-layered ruffled bloomers, embroidered ballet shoes.

Victorique watched him stolidly. “I’ll wear that one,” she said.

“This dress? Come to think of it, you’ve worn it before. So this is your favorite, huh?”

“Bring it here.”

“Right away.”

Victorique snatched the dress from Kazuya’s hands and slithered out of the black fabric. Although she was wearing only undergarments—baggy, ruffled bloomers, a petticoat, and a laced hoop skirt—she was as puffy as a pure-white snow bunny. Victorique put on a stern frown and silently began to dress. Kazuya, the upright man that he was, turned his back.

Fastening the buttons on her pretty dress, Victorique said, “I’ll wear that, um, red mini hat.”

“This one?”

“Give it here.”

“Of course.”

She wore the mini hat with its rose corsage and tied the satin ribbon tightly under her chin.

Color gradually returned to her ashen face. Her cheeks became rounder.

Barefoot, Victorique struck an arrogant pose. “Take out those boots!” she demanded. “Not that one. The silver ones right there, you number one idiot on the continent.”

“C-Come on. That’s a little bit too much, you egomaniac!”

Victorique silently picked up a pair of white silk socks. She slipped the socks on her scrawny feet before putting on a pair of silver, pointed boots.

She put on lace gloves and a glittering heart-shaped blue ring on top, as well as a large necklace of the same design.

And she was done dressing herself like a noblewoman.

“Kujou,” she called.

“Yes? Are you done? Let’s get out of here. We have to get home. This place is creepy, so let’s get back to the academy—”

“Kujou.”

“Can it wait? I’m packing up your stuff right now.”

“Kujou.”

“What is it?”

“Come here, Kujou.”

“Hmm? Fine. Do you ever stop yapping? After all the trouble I went through just to get here…”

Like a ferocious tiger observing its prey, Victorique waited patiently for Kazuya to come closer. Then, she kicked him in the shin with the tip of her pointy silver boot.

“Ouch! That hurts!”

She also hit him repeatedly with her small hand that had the blue ring attached to it.

“I said that hurts! What’s your problem?! Stop!”

Kazuya scuttled around the room.

“What is wrong with you? Have you lost your mind?”

“Kujou, you brute, scoundrel… you…”

Victorique clenched her pearly little teeth. Another smack.

“You’re hurting me. Seriously, what’s gotten into you?!”

“You…”

Victorique hung her head. The rose corsage on her mini hat quivered.

“What? Wait, are you crying? Victorique?”

A chilly air filled the room. It was empty, furnished only with a chair and an old wooden desk, where an untouched simple meal sat. The thick black cloth that Victorique had been wearing was lying on the floor, looking like a tiny black husk left behind after molting.

A gust of wind whistled through the cracks. Victorique’s magnificent golden hair billowed up from the floor and clung to the tips of Kazuya’s shoes.

“You took too long,” she managed.

“I’m sorry.”

“I was waiting for you.”

“Y-Yeah…” Kazuya drew closer to her, wearing a sorrowful look.

Victorique slapped his face repeatedly.

Whining about the pain, Kazuya inched closer and closer. He stroked Victorique’s head.

“Sorry, my Victorique.”

Victorique cast her gaze down.

Then her stomach rumbled. She pressed her stomach, as though she just remembered the concept of hunger. She glanced at the suitcase.

“That reminds me,” Kazuya said. “I brought books and snacks. I know exactly what you need.”

Victorique grunted and shot Kazuya a glare. “Well done, Kujou,” she said pompously.

“O-Okay… I see you’re still as bossy as ever. You could at least say thank you for coming to pick you up. Stop kicking me!”

“Hmph.”

Victorique, wrapped in a luxurious dress, plopped down on the shabby chair like a self-important noblewoman. Kazuya, mumbling under his breath, got down on his knee and took some chocolate bonbons, cookies, and scones from the suitcase and handed them to Victorique. The little lady took them in the manner of a noble receiving a gift from a knight, and began stuffing herself.

Her pale skin slowly regained its color.

The candies expanded her already bulging cheeks even further.

Munch, munch.

Munch, munch.

Munch, munch.

Munch, munch.

Munch…

“You’re such a dimwit, Kujou,” Victorique said, chewing on her snacks. “How did it take you a week to get here? You probably fell in some stupid ditch somewhere, hit your stupid head, got amnesia, and were just mindlessly wasting your time. World’s biggest dunce. You should be thankful you’re living at all.”

“Why, you…!”

Victorique sniffed audibly.

“I was attending class the past week! You don’t even know how worried I was, you self-centered runt! If I hadn’t come here, you’d still be crying in the corner.”

“I-I wasn’t crying!”

“Yeah, right. I saw the tears. Ouch! I said stop kicking me! Those boots are pointy!”

“I know.”

“Wait, don’t tell me you chose those boots just so you could kick me with them.”

“How ridiculous,” she scoffed. She stuffed another large chocolate bonbon into her mouth and chewed.

---

When Victorique, chewing on her food like some haughty lady, was finally full, Kazuya repacked her suitcase, held little Victorique’s pudgy hand, and started walking.

The gentle slope that Kazuya had climbed earlier had turned into a spiraling descent. This time, however, he was pulling Victorique’s hand, so it was taking much longer than before. She would call his name, stop, and shake her hand wildly.

“Kujou.”

“What is it? Come on, hurry up.”

“Kujou.”

“What?”

“Kujou.”

“…”

“…Kujou.”

“Just spit it out already.” Kazuya looked over his shoulder, annoyed. “Stop calling my name without telling me what you want.”

“…”

Victorique quietly puffed out her rosy cheeks. Then, with all the strength she could muster, she kicked Kazuya in the knee with the heel of her boot.

“Ow! You little…!”

“Hmph.”

“Why are you so violent today?” he grumbled. “Come on. Let’s hurry.”

Kazuya pulled on Victorique’s hand, and resumed walking down the dim, spiraling corridor.

The orange flames of the lamps hanging on the dark, stone walls rippled despite the absence of wind. The harsh smell of burning tallow pervaded the corridor. It was almost suffocating. In the dark labyrinth, black-clad nuns wandered in and out of the rooms like ghosts. They were devoid of expression, their vacant eyes like gaping holes in their faces, gleaming darkly.

Odd girls in black who may or may not be alive.

Countless black doors ran the length of the corridor, some tightly shut, others half-open and wobbling, suggesting that someone had just passed through.

The orange glow of the lamp illuminated their figures.

Suddenly, Victorique tripped. Knowing that she was sensitive to pain, Kazuya rushed to help her up. After walking for a while, she stumbled again, and Kazuya once again helped her up.

“How are you stumbling so much?” Kazuya asked wearily.

“My stomach is full,” she mumbled. “I feel a little heavy.”

“That’s what you get for eating too much! You should take better care of yourself.”

Victorique puffed up her cheeks, and went quiet, sulking. Suddenly, she started tottering away. Kazuya quickly followed her.

The corridor gradually became wider and the slope gentler. Their footsteps echoed. Occasionally they passed a nun in black. A door opened, a nun stepped out, then disappeared through another door. A cold draft blew past.

“Victorique,” Kazuya called gingerly.

Victorique grunted.

“Can you at least answer me? All I’m hearing are grunts. You’re such a pain in the butt! Ugh, fine. Why in the world did they bring you here anyway? I had to get here quick, so I’m kind of clueless about the specifics.”

Groaning, Victorique cast her eyes downward. Her small, silver boots pattered loudly in the corridor.

“To summon someone to this monastery,” she said.

“Inspector Blois might have mentioned that. Who exactly?”

Victorique did not answer. She just bit her cherry lips, her eyes tinged with sadness.

Kazuya decided not to pursue the matter any further. Squeezing her hand, he continued walking.

After walking for a while, Kazuya abruptly stopped in front of a half-open door. Inside was a small room, and for some reason, only this door was painted a flashy red, as if to distinguish it from the other rooms.

The mysterious Mechanical Turk that Kazuya found in the cargo hold of the train was inside.

A humorous face with a pointy beard and a turban. As if sensing a gaze, its small head moved slowly, toward the door.

Kazuya stiffened. Its black eyeballs flickered as if spotting him.

He yelped. Victorique tugged at his hand, and he quickly left the room.

Again, it felt like the doll moved… Was I seeing things? Yeah, that’s probably it. A lifeless doll can’t possibly move on its own.

Kazuya continued on.

As they got closer to the entrance of the monastery, one of the doors suddenly opened and almost hit Victorique. Kazuya swiftly shielded her, and the corner of the door hit the back of his head instead.

Kazuya let out a yelp. Victorique hit him on the head as well.

“Ouch. Stop it,” Kazuya protested.

“Get out of my way,” Victorique huffed. “I can’t see.”

“If I hadn’t protected you, the door would have hit you right on your little forehead. Have you forgotten you’re a sensitive wimp? ‘Cause I haven’t. I remember how you rolled around on the floor howling in pain at the slightest flick to your forehead.”

“Wh-Who are you calling a wimp?! And I didn’t roll on the floor.”

“You were crying, though.”

“I-I wasn’t!”

While they were arguing, a man appeared from behind.

“Sorry about that,” he said.

Kazuya turned. It was the young man who was on the same train as Kazuya—Simon Hunt.

“Oh. Hello, Simon.”

“I pushed the door too hard,” the man said. “See you around.”

Simon Hunt raised one hand and hurried toward the exit. Kazuya watched him go, perplexed. He peeked inside the room where Simon had emerged from.

It was a room full of gears, springs, and huge levers, like the inside of a giant clock. The machines whirred. A large clock on the wall indicated the time.

“What was he doing in there?” Kazuya mumbled curiously.

They resumed walking.

Suddenly, Victorique stopped in front of a door. Kazuya stopped in his tracks as well.

“What’s wrong, Victorique?”

“…”

Silently, she peered through the half-open door.

There was a large, peculiar machine inside the room. It was square-shaped and had lenses protruding in several places. It reminded Kazuya of the photograph machine he had seen back in his country when he took commemorative photos with his family.

Kazuya looked at Victorique. “What is that thing?”

“A magic lantern.”

“A what?”

“I see.”

Victorique didn’t answer Kazuya’s question and resumed walking down the corridor. Kazuya followed, holding the tiny Victorique with one hand and the huge suitcase with the other.

And then finally, Kazuya and Victorique made it out of Beelzebub’s Skull.