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The Dead’s Statement – Part 02

“Bloody hell! Bloody hell!”

Five detectives subdued the rampaging man. Abruptly, the room was in an uproar. Inspector Blois, a pipe in one hand and an extravagant porcelain doll in the other, scurried into the corridor. The large man’s roars, loud enough to burst one’s eardrums, echoed throughout the police station.

“Stop!”

The Dead, his bearded face twisted in anger and panic, continued shouting. Only when a young detective punched him in the nose did he close his mouth, shocked.

He shot a resentful glare at the detective, then at the person who suggested the luggage inspection—the little blonde girl, Victorique, whom he had not paid the slightest heed when he entered the room.

“Damn… it… I’ll get you for this!”

A drill’s tip peeked in from the corridor. The golden beak shook, as though wondering if it was safe. Inspector Blois fearfully peered into the room.

“It’s safe now,” Kazuya said.

“Hmm.” The inspector returned to the room with a scowl on his face. “I can take him, but I thought I’d leave it to the young ones.”

“You siblings sure are confident about a lot of things,” Kazuya mumbled.

Victorique kicked Kazuya’s ankle hard with her silver boots. Kazuya jumped up and down, holding his leg, his face red.

“Ouch! That hurts!”

“That’s for running your mouth,” Victorique muttered.

“You should be thanking me I didn’t tell your weird brother that you fired a gun with so much confidence despite never having touched one before. I said it hurts!”

Kazuya jumped up and down on one leg again.

Victorique sulked for a while, her face crimson. Then she stood up and approached the suitcase of the Dead curiously. She brought her face closer, cautiously, like a kitten finding something suspicious, and sniffed it. Her tiny, adorable nose twitched.

The Dead watched her anxiously.

“Kujou,” Victorique called. “Why are you hopping around like a flea? Trying to get some exercise?”

“My ankle’s really sore from your kick. What is it?”

“Open this suitcase.”

“Okay.”

Kazuya came hopping toward her, rubbed his ankles with teary eyes, and put his hand on the suitcase. The Dead howled. Startled, Kazuya paused for a moment, then opened the suitcase without hesitation.

It was a fine, nobleman’s suitcase. Inside were clothes. A silk shirt, well-tailored trousers, and a matching waistcoat. There was also a gentleman’s hat that was so delicately crafted, it would have cost around a miner’s one-month wage.

Kazuya methodically laid out the contents on the table.

Under the clothes…

…were rolls of banknotes.

It was a huge sum of money, enough to buy a castle. The detectives were abuzz. Kazuya’s hands quivered as he took them all out.

“What’s this?”

The last item to emerge from the suitcase was a bundle of documents, bearing a name in a smooth handwriting.

Kazuya picked it up. “Jason Neal. Wait, that’s not his name.”

“Did you say Jason Neal?!” Inspector Blois exclaimed.

Kazuya glanced up and looked around. The detectives were all looking in his direction, bewildered. While all the adults were left stunned, Victorique alone remained calm, smoking her pipe casually.

The Dead howled again.

One by one, the detectives rushed to the suitcase and snatched the papers from Kazuya’s hands.

“I can’t believe it!”

“Didn’t this guy try to run away? His name matches the wanted driver. Go verify it!”

Young detectives dashed out of the room.

“What’s going on?” Kazuya asked the inspector. “Who is Jason?”

Inspector Blois paced back and forth. “Jason Neal is the name of a tycoon who was murdered about a week ago. He was a mining magnate who made his fortune in just one generation. He was found dead in a forest on the outskirts of London, his car burnt to a crisp along with him. His driver is missing. He probably killed the man for his money.”

“I see…”

The case was featured on the newspaper lying on the floor of the compartment they were in. A wealthy man was killed… and then the Empress was gossiping about various things. The Dead entered the compartment and stomped on the newspaper, crumpling it up. Kazuya thought he was trying to get rid of the spider crawling on it, but it might have been because he wanted to keep the passengers’ eyes off the article about the murder he committed.

A young detective came running back. “Inspector, we’ve asked a colleague of the missing driver to come. They will identify whether he’s the man wanted for killing Jason Neal.”

“Good work!” Inspector Blois said. “Take him away for now, and keep him under tight security.”

The Dead roared again and began thrashing about. Four detectives held the big man down and dragged him out of the room.

Only three people remained in the room—Inspector Blois, Victorique, and Kazuya.

“I see,” Inspector Blois muttered in exasperation. “So he was a culprit in another case. That’s why he tried to sneak away after the train stopped. That man—the driver who killed his boss—had another reason for not wanting to get involved with the police.”

“Wrong,” Victorique murmured, smoking her pipe languidly. Her deep-green eyes narrowed. “He’s dead in a certain way. The facts have been flipped.”

“What? What do you mean by that?”

“Good question.” Victorique removed the pipe from her mouth, and sighed.

From outside the window came the hustle and bustle of the city of Saubreme. Horses’ hooves clattering on the pavement. Horns blaring. The murmur of people walking past, and the sound of an accordion played by a street performer.

Victorique puffed on her pipe in silence.

“Inspector! Inspector Blois, we’ve got trouble!”

A detective came scuttling into the room. Inspector Blois, who had been staring at his sister, turned his attention to the man. The inspector’s eyes were dark and moist, like a child who had woken up from a nightmare.

“What is it?” he asked. “Don’t tell me that man got away.”

“No.” The detective’s face tightened. “We just received a strange inquiry!”

“What is it about?”

“Well, uhh…” The detective fumbled for words.

“Spit it out already.”

“R-Right. They’re looking for Empress Britannia. They’re wondering if she’s in our custody.”

“…What?” Staring at the detective, Inspector Blois cocked his head. “What’s going on? I thought the kingdom of Krehadl was just something she made up.”

“We’re absolutely clueless.”

“Whatever. I’ll deal with it.”

Inspector Blois left with the detective, leaving Victorique and Kazuya alone in the room. Kazuya studied Victorique’s face for a while. Then he stood up and walked over to her side. Slowly, he held out his forefinger.

And poked her cheek.

“Don’t touch me!” Victorique snapped.

“S-Sorry. It was just so puffy.”

“I’ve never puffed out my cheeks.”

“You do it all the time.”

“What?!”

“By the way…” Kazuya paused, uneasy.

Victorique eyed him eerily. “What is it?”

“Sorry I got mad and left you alone on the train. So there was a spider, huh? I had no idea.”

Victorique sniffed sharply. “Oh, that?” She looked away. Her golden hair swayed, glinting in the sunlight shining through the window. “A big, creepy spider was crawling on the top of your head, Kujou, then scuttled down to your forehead, crossing from right to left. It was traveling across your face as hard as a group of Puritans crossing to the New World. Eastward, to the Promised Land. How you didn’t notice it is a mystery to me.”

“How embarrassing. My mind was somewhere else. So you got rid of it for me.”

Victorique was silent.

Kazuya poked his face from behind and saw her face red. “Thanks,” he said with a smile.

“Hmm.”

Just then the door opened and Inspector Blois returned. Striding straight to Victorique, he said, “Kujou.”

“I’m right over here, inspector,” Kazuya said. “We look completely different. There’s no way you’d mistake her for me. Not only are we of different genders, we’re also of different races. But what is it?”

“Kujou.” Inspector Blois pretended to be talking to Kazuya. “K-Kujou.”

“I said, what is it?”

“One of the passengers in the same compartment as you, the Dead, is likely a culprit in another case. We are sending a witness over here now. I have no idea who the Empress is, but a party is on its way here now, looking for an Empress Britannia. But the case I need solved is neither the murder of a mining tycoon nor the mystery of Empress Britannia. It’s the puzzling Murder in the Old Masquerade. Who’s the culprit, um, Kujou?”