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The Fell Sisters’ Cabinet – Part 01

—ghost machine 2—

Beelzebub’s Skull, December 5, 1914.

An empty room marked by a scarlet door.

“I’m Jupiter Roget, President of Sauville’s Royal Academy of Science.”

Brian shook the hand of the middle-aged man.

“Did you just come from the nameless village?” Jupiter Roget asked, oblivious to the sweat beading on Brian’s forehead.

“Yeah.” Brian nodded.

The door opened and Michelle entered, but when she noticed the atmosphere, she stepped back outside, closing the door behind her.

The groans of the injured and the footsteps of the nurses rolled into the empty room.

“I heard you went to the forgotten mountain village of the Gray Wolves, provided electricity, and gained their trust,” Jupiter said.

“I had some other business there.”

“Right. I wanted to ask you about that. Is the box still in the village?”

“If you mean the memento box, then yes, it’s in the village. Hidden under the floorboards of Cordelia Gallo’s small house.”

Jupiter’s eyes narrowed. “I trust you’ll return it at once,” he said in a cajoling tone. “The Academy of Science can’t let that thing fall into the wrong hands.”

“I can’t do that, unfortunately.”

“What?!”

A rageful aura emitted from Jupiter.

Brian gritted his teeth. “It’s my and Cordelia’s lifeline. Cordelia is being hunted by Marquis Albert de Blois, a major figure in the Ministry of the Occult. We also know the great secret of the Academy of Science, a body that’s in opposition to the Ministry of the Occult. I wouldn’t be surprised if you killed us because of what we know.”

“Well, aren’t we distrustful?”

“This is purely a matter of interests. Political interests, that is.”

“Yes.”

“I hid Cordelia somewhere safe. Same with the box.”

Brian knitted his brows as he glanced down at the floorboards where he had just hidden the box. Jupiter Roget didn’t notice.

“But you didn’t stop anywhere on the way here, did you?” Jupiter asked.

“So my hunch was right. You had someone watch me. But unfortunately for you, I’m clever. I’m not handing you that box. But I promise you it will not fall into the hands of the Ministry of the Occult either. It’s our lifeline. Only by keeping it secret will we be safe.”

“Very well.”

Jupiter’s face contorted.

Outside the fitted window, dark waves crashed and retreated. The sun was slowly dipping down the horizon, and the purple evening sky was turning darker.

“Brian,” Jupiter said. “What is happening right now is an epic battle that escalated from a conflict between two nations to a world war that involved countries from all over the globe. Nothing like this has ever happened in the thousands of years of human history. Perhaps it’s the consequence of the world becoming smaller due to rapid modernization. The political issues in Serbia, the Balkan wars, and the unfortunate assassination of the heir to the Austrian throne in Sarajevo definitely served as triggers, but they are only scattered detonators. We may never fully know what initially caused this global war, or why we are even fighting it. Perhaps in the future, after the war is over, early attempts to solve the mystery will be made by people all over the world, by countries that shared the pain, or by a mere bystander. But this is all just fiction. History is just another word for the twisted creative activity of recompiling the past to your own benefit. We will forever be ignorant of what is really happening right now. Do you understand?”

“Yeah.”

“And for us, this war is not only a battle between the Allies and the Triple Alliance, but also between Sauville’s Academy of Science and the Ministry of the Occult. Do you understand? We, the Academy of Science, are actively trying to adopt the new force that is science for the development of our kingdom. The Ministry of the Occult, on the other hand, is trying to compete with the modernizing world by employing the ancient powers of the European continent—magic, imaginary creatures, occultic powers. But to us, that is nothing more than a reckless daydream. If we want to do what is best for our country, we should abandon the relics of the past, and flourish through science. The world is rapidly becoming smaller and more automated. Wars will no longer be fought between individuals, but between worlds. Beautiful personal credos such as chivalry will die because machines will be fighting in their stead. It’s inevitable.”

Jupiter’s expression turned sadder by the minute. Brian watched him silently.

“Brian, young descendant of the Gray Wolves, an imaginary creature. You left the Nameless Village and make your living as a magician in the city. You declared that your show does not employ witchcraft, but tricks. It feels similar to our faith in science. That is why we rely on you. That’s why we wanted to use a magician as a spy.”

“The Ministry of the Occult is my enemy,” Brian said curtly. “He hurt my Cordelia. The Ministry of the Occult treated the Gray Wolf only as a tool, a phenomenon, and inflicted a lasting wound. I will never forgive that twisted fanatic of the ancient powers, Marquis Albert de Blois.”

“I believe he fathered a child.”

“A tiny, young wolf. Only about four to five years old. Cordelia is concerned about the child she left behind. But I don’t care about the child. The blood of that nobleman flows in her veins. Besides, Marquis de Blois would never give up the ancient power that he has finally acquired after much effort.”

“I see.”

“Marquis de Blois is my enemy. So is the Ministry of the Occult.”

Jupiter nodded. “Please lend us your power,” he pleaded. “On paper, Beelzebub’s Skull serves as a field hospital, and to prove that, female students from this country have been deployed as nurses. But it’s also a fortress used by the Academy of Science, in cooperation with Lithuania, for espionage. We fear that the Triple Alliance have caught wind of it. There are even rumors of spies from the Ministry of the Occult infiltrating this place, so it’s not safe here.”

“Hmm, I see.” Brian nodded. “If fighting using magic is what you want, I happened to bring the perfect tool. I had a hunch it would come in handy. Over there.”

He pointed to a large square object placed in the corner of the room, the same piece of luggage that several porters had to carry from the train. It was covered with a cloth.

“What is it?” Jupiter asked curiously.

Brian moved toward it and removed the cloth.

Hidden inside was a strange, square machine that looked like a giant camera. A large round lens was sticking out of it like a cannon. Jupiter couldn’t hide his surprise.

“It’s a magic lantern,” Brian said.

---

Chapter 4: The Fell Sisters’ Cabinet

Kazuya and Victorique exited Beelzebub’s Skull.

The front yard of the monastery was filled with spectators in glittering costumes, girls dancing, the feathers on their heads bouncing around, and laughing clowns. The organ, gongs, and flutes played a somewhat morbid hymn.

The old church in the corner of the yard was bright inside. Shadows of skeletons wobbled, frightening viewers. Behind the church was a desolate graveyard, where numerous torches stood, wedged into the ground, burning fiercely like will-o-the-wisps. Thunder roared in the distance, and the dancers let out exaggerated screams as they covered their heads in despair, eliciting laughter from the audience.

Kazuya stared absently at the scene for a while. He snapped back to his senses and glanced at the small girl in frills holding his hand tight.

Victorique was watching the same scene with her glossy, cherry lips slightly parted.

Slowly, she looked up at Kazuya with eyes as green as jade gleaming in the void.

“Kujou,” she said. “Who are these even bigger dunces?”

“Um…” Kazuya scratched his head. “Some passengers on the train said that once a month, on the night of the full moon, when the magical power of this place is said to be stronger, they hold a soiree like this. It’s called the Night of Phantasmagoria, a celebration of ancient powers, where they perform magic and stuff.”

“Nonsense.”

“Yeah. Do you want to go home now? Though apparently there won’t be a return train until after the soiree is over.”

“Hmm…”

An elderly friar, Iago, who claimed to be a Vatican Miracle Investigator, slowly walked past. A bluish-white ball of fire was following closely behind him. Kazuya eyed it curiously.

Victorique yawned. “Probably a balloon filled with phosphorus.”

“Oh, yeah. How’d you know?”

Victorique’s brows twitched, and she puffed her cheeks out like a child. “Who do you think I am? I can’t believe that’s enough to impress you. You’re such a—”

She didn’t finish her words. She looked away and stared intently beyond the crowd, as if something had caught her attention. She tried to stand on tip-toe several times, jumped up and down, but her petite stature prevented her from seeing anything.

“What’s wrong?” Kazuya asked.

“…”

“Did you see someone?”

“Yes…”

Victorique stamped her silver boots repeatedly, irritated by the waves of people, flying orbs, burning torches. Her gaze darted to the huge suitcase that Kazuya was dragging behind him. She grabbed it with her pudgy hands, and climbed up onto it, startling Kazuya. The bottom of her red dress, with its layers of torchon lace, and ruffled bloomers adorned with delicate flower-shaped embroidery swayed softly.

Kazuya caught a glimpse of her scrawny calf wrapped in white silk socks.

“Careful, Victorique.”

Climbing up the suitcase like a baby squirrel scuttling up a tree, Victorique peered across the crowd with her expressionless, emerald eyes. Her glossy, cherry lips parted as she tried to call for someone’s name, when her boots slipped.

“Victorique!”

She fell on top of the suitcase. Her eyes caught Kazuya’s face momentarily. Rattled, Kazuya quickly spread out his arms to catch her.

Victorique rolled down towards Kazuya. Her long, magnificent hair, like an untied turban, soared in the night breeze, gleaming a magical golden color.

Like a small bird flapping its red wings, Victorique landed on top of Kazuya, who fell flat on his back on the ground, yelping.

Sitting on Kazuya’s stomach, Victorique brought her small hand to her chin, deep in thought.

“…”

“Victorique?”

“…”

“Hey, Victorique?”

“…”

“Not even a sorry to me?”

“Shut your stupid mouth and keep quiet for a bit. I’m thinking.”

“Okay… But do you really have to do it on top of me?”

“Hush.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m too loud,” Kazuya mumbled. “Sorry. No, wait a minute!”

Victorique pondered something for a while.

“That red hair,” she murmured. “So Brian is here. Does it have something with the Ministry of the Occult and the Academy of Science? For pity’s sake. Too little fragments to go on.”

“Did you say something?”

“I did. But I’m not telling you. It’s too much trouble to explain.”

“Now, listen here…”

Before Kazuya could say something, a gong sounded, even louder than usual.

The spectators squealed.

The soiree was about to begin.