The Clockworks’ Dark Past – Part 03

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Translator: Kell


“Shut up, stupid Cecile!” Victorique shrieked as she flailed about. “I am going to the clock tower. Only in there can the mystery of the Leviathan be exposed to the light of day. My Wellspring of Wisdom says so. Get out of my way! I’m not going to any stupid classroom!”

Ms. Cecile was walking down the corridor with Victorique in her arms.

“Let me go! I don’t want to go to class!”

“Why not?” Kazuya, walking along beside them, asked.

Enraged, Victorique’s face turned red as an apple. “Because there’s lots of kids in there!”

“You’re a kid too. And so am I.”

“I can’t stand it when there’s too many of them!”

“Come on. You can at least show up for a little bit. You’ve been in the library this whole time. It wouldn’t hurt to show your face in the classroom during that rare moment you actually come down.”

“I said I don’t want to!”

“All classes are canceled today anyway,” Ms. Cecile said serenely. “With the incident on campus and all. You don’t have to stay long.”

“No!”

As Victorique thrashed about, her heel hit Ms. Cecile in the stomach. The teacher groaned and scowled. Then, standing in front of the classroom with a smile, she casually tossed Victorique inside.

The appearance of the sudden intruder silenced the noisy classroom.


Avril, reading her textbook, heard squabbling coming from the hallway, followed by something being tossed into the classroom.

“It’s the doll from earlier!” she gasped.

The doll covered in white ruffles and pink lace remained still for a while, then eventually rose, slowly, as if wary of its surroundings. It swept a surreptitious glance at the room.

The students stared at the mass of frills with bated breath.

Soon after, a boy—Kazuya Kujou, an international student from the Orient, whom the students feared and called the Reaper—entered the room and casually reached for the doll. He gripped the doll’s tiny hand and helped it up, wearing a soft smile that Avril loved so much.

“I bet you don’t know where your seat is,” he said. “This way, Victorique.”

The classroom stirred. Students exchanged glances.

V-Victorique?!

Avril swallowed. She studied the tiny, beautiful, angelic girl, whom she mistook for an elaborate porcelain doll.

Her beauty could not be measured with ordinary standards. She had skin that was smooth and white like porcelain, and her cheeks were a lovely rosy color. Her body, clothed in a wonderful dress, was so small, and her head, hands, every part of her, made her look like an intricate doll crafted for the gods. Despite her extravagant dress, her long golden hair, which almost reached her feet, was neither braided nor tied, simply hanging down her back. It gave her a mysterious, distinctive air—petite, beautiful, and quiet, yet somehow vicious.

The girl—the legendary truant Victorique de Blois, whom no one had ever seen before, despite there being countless rumors about her, that she was the illegitimate child of a noble, or the reincarnation of a Gray Wolf—seemed even more extraordinary in person. Avril observed the small, beautiful girl whose dignified aura overwhelmed everyone present, and Kazuya Kujou, who held her hand in the most casual manner possible, talking to her as he guided her to her seat.

Avril wore a blank expression for a while, but eventually she looked teary-eyed, her lips trembling.

Noticing her gaze, Kazuya looked at her. He smiled as their eyes met.

“Hey, Avril.”

“H-Hey…”

“Sorry about earlier. Talk to you later.”

“Okay…”

Kazuya’s smile provided her a bit of relief. She glanced back at Victorique de Blois, who was sitting by the window, looking downward and staring at the tip of her shoes.

Victorique looked restless, casting anxious glances at her surroundings and then directing her gaze back down again. Her cheeks had turned from rosy to dark from anger or fear. Her milky skin turned pale. Avril felt a little worried. She looked at Kazuya, but he seemed unaware. He was sitting up straight and staring at Ms. Cecile standing at the podium.

“Everyone, something actually happened this morning, so classes are canceled for the day,” the teacher announced. “Before I dismiss you, I will return your exams, so please come forward if your name is called. Afterwards, you should return to your dorm rooms and continue studying on your own. Don’t slack off just because it’s almost summer break.”

Ms. Cecile started calling each student by name and returning their exam papers.

Victorique, on the other hand, looked as if she was about to pass out and fall out of her chair. Avril glanced around restlessly. The feelings of anger and concern toward this girl she had never met before left her confused.

Argh, darn it… Let me just mess around with her a little bit. Just a little bit. Then maybe we’ll both feel better.

Avril slowly stretched her hand out. Victorique, staring at her shoes, was unmoving, her long golden hair hanging down to the floor. Avril grabbed a tuft of her golden hair and whispered.

“Hey, Gray Wolf! She-wolf. Monster. Monster!” She pulled on her hair just a little so it wouldn’t hurt.

Victorique swiftly turned around.

Avril’s smiling face contorted with fear. Victorique was holding a desk. Her eyes, which Avril now saw up close for the first time, were a pale green color, with a mystical glow in them that said she was neither a child nor an adult, and her face was horrifyingly devoid of emotion. She lifted the desk with both hands, and without hesitation, threw it at Avril, toppling her backward.

“Insolent girl,” Victorique said in a raspy voice, lower and grimmer than anything Avril had heard before. “Don’t you dare touch me!”

“S-Sorry, I meant no offense,” Avril muttered. “Gray Wolves are terrifying…”

Avril lost consciousness.


Avril woke up in the infirmary to find the unapproachable, beautiful girl in laces and ruffles sitting in front of her. Kazuya was there too, pushing her beautiful little head down.

“Oh, you’re up,” Kazuya said, and pushed the terrifying girl’s head even harder. “Go on, Victorique.”

“I will not apologize,” she replied in the same husky voice.

Avril was again surprised to learn that the grim, low voice, which sounded as if it came from the depths of the earth, undoubtedly belonged to Victorique de Blois.

“I said I won’t apologize, and that’s that. This woman called me a monster. But I am definitely not a monster.”

“She knows that. I’m sure she was just teasing you.”

Avril bolted upright. Standing, she realized just how small Victorique really was.

“Um, sorry about earlier,” Avril said. “I didn’t think you’d get that mad. I’m sorry for what I said.”

Victorique looked at her warily, wearing an odd expression on her face, almost like fear. She was biting her glossy lips with her small pearly teeth.

“You heard her,” Kazuya said. “Let me introduce you two. This is Avril Bradley. She’s a student from England. And Avril, this is Victorique de Blois. Uh, wait a sec. Victorique, did you apologize to Avril yet?”

“I am not apologizing.” Victorique looked away.

“Now, listen here!” Kazuya growled.

Victorique jumped like a scared kitten. Then, with an even deeper frown, she shook her tiny head. Her magnificent golden hair, cascading down to her feet like a golden veil, swayed elegantly.

“I. Will. Not. Apologize!”

“Why not?” Kazuya asked.

Victorique snorted. “Because she is not human. She’s a farting newt. And I will not talk to a newt.” She cast her gaze down.

“What did you say?!” Kazuya grabbed her chin with both hands and forced her to look up.

“Let go of me! How dare you grab my chin!” She thrashed around.

“S-Stop it, Kujou!” Avril cut in. “You’re being too rough on her.”

“I’m just teaching this farting Victorique some manners,” Kazuya said in a level voice, still holding Victorique’s chin. “Come on, Victorique. I’m not letting go until you apologize. You won’t be able to eat your macaroons, smoke your pipe, or read your book. Are you okay with that?”

“Get off me! You slow-witted, dumb, rascal!”

“Stop it, Kujou!”

“I’m not going to.”

While the three were engaged in a squabble, the door to the infirmary opened.

“Oh?”

Ms. Cecile stood there, staring at them.


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