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The Dancers of Phantom – Part 06

Meanwhile, at the end of the corridor, where the props were placed…

Ms. Cecile, who had popped out of the suitcase, wearing nothing but a light-brown woolen hat and a coat over her nightgown, and Marquis Albert de Blois, were staring at each other quizzically.

“Who are you?” the Marquis asked. “You look like a dull-witted woman I’ve seen before.”

“Ah, what a horrifying face! The Grim Reaper! Wait, Marquis Blois?”

“Oh, are you the brainless teacher from St. Marguerite Academy?”

“You’ve got the wrong person. I’m smart.”

“Throw her out.”

Casting Ms. Cecile a sidelong glance, Marquis de Blois made a motion of shooing a fly away.

Ms. Cecile’s face turned crimson, and her cheeks puffed up like balloons. “I’m not going anywhere! If I plant my feet firmly… Aaaah!” She flailed about.

“What on earth are you doing?” asked the Marquis’s son, Inspector Blois, flabbergasted. “Unless you’re a corpse, ladies shouldn’t be hiding inside a suitcase. It’s weird.”

“I was just worried about Victorique. You usually keep her locked up in the academy, but out of nowhere you brought her here. It’s fishy.”

“Get out of here!” Inspector Blois slammed the suitcase shut.

Ignoring the shrill voice coming from inside, he dragged the suitcase out into the corridor. It bounced up and down as if it were alive. Each time it jerked around, Inspector Blois yelped.

Victorique watched in silence as she smoked her pipe. A moment later, she shuffled over to the suitcase. The dove on her head wobbled from side to side.

“Cecile,” she called.

Her voice was terribly quiet, like a lone traveler from the future who knew in advance all the terrible things that were about to happen. In her green eyes lurked resignation that only a witness to a lot of things could have.

“?”

“You should listen to Grevil and go home. It’s too dangerous.”

“?!”

“I don’t want you getting dragged into this. Do you understand?”

“…”

“Whether you’re here or not, I can never return to the academy unless I solve this mystery.”

“…”

“Cecile?”

The suitcase started crying. Muted, heartbreaking sobs came from inside. The huge suitcase shook, and Inspector Blois dragged it again. It bounced around still, slamming its edges at the inspector’s shin.

The white dove perched on top of Victorique’s head cooed again. It spread its tiny wings and flew down the corridor.

Horrified, Victorique went after it. “Hey, wait!”

Chasing the bird entrusted to her by her mother, she quickly overtook Inspector Blois, who was struggling with the rampaging suitcase, heading down the corridor to the entrance.

“Get back here!”

---

Hearing a familiar, deep voice from afar, Kazuya lifted his head. He was chasing after the rabbit that had jumped out of his arms and started running further down the corridor as soon as he finished listening to Ginger Pie’s story.

Kazuya and Victorique bumped into each other in the middle of the corridor.

Kazuya’s face lit up like a flower blooming. “Victorique! I’ve been looking for you,” he said. “I can’t believe I found you right away.”

Victorique’s eyes, however, widened in shock, and then darkened, like the moon hiding behind the clouds.

“Kujou!” she exclaimed. “Not you too.”

The fear lurking deep inside her cold eyes slowly crept across her whole face.

Seeing her expression, Kazuya swallowed. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Should I have stayed away? I got a letter from Ms. Cecile. She said that Inspector Blois was taking you away to some theater in Saubreme. I would have come sooner, but the motorbike got stuck in a ridge and crashed into a shed. As we got closer to the city, we got into a race with cars driven by young nobles, so we ended up taking a different route. Hmm? Are you okay? Your cheeks are deflated.”

“Kujou.” Victorique perched the dove on her shoulder.

Wearing a red-and-white dress fringed with ruffles and laces, she looked like a luxurious porcelain doll. Her mini-hat and shoes were a lovely pink. She was a tiny rose in full bloom. Her golden hair, like the tail of an ancient creature, hung softly to the floor. It stirred softly, glistening, as though imbued with a mysterious power. In her pudgy hand was a ceramic pipe. Her face was as expressionless as ever, but there was pain in her eyes.

“This case is dangerous,” she said firmly. “You should stay out of it.”

“I won’t,” Kazuya replied instantly in a soft voice.

Victorique blinked in surprise.

Kazuya crossed his arms. “I will get myself involved in every case you find yourself in. I spoke with your father, Marquis de Blois, in Beelzebub’s Skull, and I faced Brian Roscoe, the Gray Wolf, in the academy’s clock tower. I’m already caught in the karmic cycle that revolves around you, and I’m not afraid of it. I care about you more than anything.”

“But… You can’t…”

“You’re kind-hearted. And surprisingly timid, despite spending your days swimming through an ocean of books. You’re afraid of dragging people close to you into trouble.”

“…”

“Surely having at least one person to stay by your side is fine. A nosy friend who’s willing to get involved in everything you do. An ordinary guy who will, nonetheless, try to protect you. Just one will do.”

“…Kujou.”

“Oh, by the way.” Kazuya pointed down the corridor. Either something had caught his attention, or he was trying to change the subject. “Do you know about the Downtown Blue Rose?”

“Hmm? What is that?” Victorique, caught unawares, regarded him blankly.

---

Kazuya trotted back down the corridor and pointed at a portrait of Nicole Leroux hanging on the wall.

Her smile seemed even brighter than earlier. Behind her lips, coated with lipstick, glinted what looked like a gold tooth.

“A woman dressed as the Queen Mother told me something about this lady,” Kazuya said.

“Ginger Pie, I take it.”

“Yeah. Anyway.” Kazuya cocked his head curiously. “Nicole Leroux was a very popular dancer in the theater until about 1900. One day, she found a weird newspaper ad.”

“Go on.”

“’Secretary wanted!’ was what it said. But the physical requirements were very specific. Blonde hair, blue eyes, good-looking. Height around 160 centimeters. There was even something about a shoe size. Nicole said, ‘What an odd employer. Maybe they’re a pervert? But I fit the requirements.’ She laughed out loud. She then did an imitation of Cinderella, inserting her feet in some shoes, and sang and danced on the spot.”

“Hmm.”

“She was apparently a cheerful and spirited person. So the other dancers joined her, playing the part of the prince, the stepmother, and the mean sisters, and they had a fun time in the green room. Ginger Pie says she remembers it like it was just yesterday.”

“But there’s more, right?”

“Yup.” Kazuya nodded. “Nicole went in for the interview, partly as a joke, because the pay was really good. She said, ‘I don’t know if a dancer like me is capable of being a prim secretary.’ Then she disappeared after that. She didn’t come home or to the theater. She had a lot of boyfriends, but they never got to see her again. They missed her so bad. Strange, isn’t it?”

Victorique nodded.

Inspector Blois slowly passed by, dragging the still-shaking suitcase. Veins had popped out on his forehead.

The inspector gave Kazuya a sharp glare. “Fancy meeting you here, Kujou.”

“What are you doing with a living suitcase? And it hates you. First of all, you look like a degenerate.”

“Oh, shut it. Ah, it’s so heavy.”

The suitcase jumped again. He kicked it, then heaved a deep sigh.

An idea came to Victorique. She slammed her fist onto her palm. “Kujou.”

“What? Do you need my help with something? I can stand in front of you and protect you from weird perverts like him with all I’ve got.”

“I can hear you, you know,” Inspector Blois growled.

“Oops!” Kazuya shrank back. “I can be your bulletproof jacket. I’ll bring you candies. And I’ll bring the princess mysterious stories to keep her occupied.” He swung one arm in a bow.

Victorique nodded in agreement. “It just so happens that I’m currently bored.”

“Really?”

“Yes. So go and find out more about this strange story. Leave the theater right now and head for the streets.”

“Got it! No, wait just a darn minute.” Kazuya eyed her dubiously. “Are you trying to get rid of me? You don’t want me staying around because it’s dangerous.”

A faint scowl flashed across Victorique’s face, then disappeared the next instant, replaced by the usual blank, doll-like expression.

“That’s not it,” she said.

“I doubt it. Can you swear on your mother?”

“Shut up, you hack!”

“H-Hack?” Shocked, Kazuya fell silent.

“I’m just a little bit curious about Nicole Leroux’s disappearance,” Victorique hissed. “Go look into it. And take Cecile with you.”

“All right, then. Wait, did you say Ms. Cecile? Where is she?”

Kazuya looked around, but all he saw in the corridor were Victorique, himself, and the portraits of dancers on the wall. And then there was Inspector Blois moving further away, pulling a weird, rattling suitcase.

Victorique shook her head grimly and pointed straight ahead. “Isn’t it obvious? Inside the suitcase, where else?”

“Whaaat?!” Kazuya exclaimed, leaning back.

The white dove cooed.