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The Ghost of Millie Marl Haunts the Abandoned Storehouse – Part 01

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Translator: Kell

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A warm spring afternoon.

St. Marguerite’s Grand Library was a majestic tower that was built in the 17th century. Inside was a hall with a high ceiling, walls covered in bookcases, and a narrow labyrinth of stairs leading up to the ceiling.

The tower was located at the far end of the campus of St. Marguerite Academy, a prestigious school for children of the aristocracy that stood quietly in the mountains of the Kingdom of Sauville, Western Europe’s little giant. For the last few centuries, it was thick with the smell of dust, dirt, and wisdom, from high above to down below, and filled with an atmosphere of hallowed tranquility.

On one cold and humid spring day, the air still carrying with it the chill of winter, there was a refreshing sound of conversation between a boy and a girl in the hall by the entrance of the library, quite unusually.

“My Wellspring of Wisdom told me that she must have hidden the purple book on the shelf by the thirteenth step.”

“I see.”

“Here you go.”

“Whoa! You were right. That’s the book I saw, Victorique. I can’t believe you actually found it! Man, you’re amazing. But also weird.”

There was a loud thud.

Slowly, the tiny girl who had been speaking in a husky came down the wooden staircase first. Her appearance was reminiscent of an elaborate porcelain doll. Her long, magnificent, golden hair hung down her back like an untied velvet turban, and her green eyes flickered mysteriously. Her small, graceful arms and legs, which looked like puppet limbs when she moved, were wrapped in a lovely, luxurious dress, billowy with layers of white lace and a pink ribbon.

In her hand was an old book with a purple cover.

A small oriental boy came down next, rubbing the side of his head with tears in his eyes. He had kind, gentle black eyes, but there was a stubborn set to his jaw.

“That hurt like hell,” he grumbled. Victorique had hit him with the edge of the book. “Hey, are you listening?”

Victorique sniffed sharply in response.

“It wouldn’t hurt you to care a little.”

“I don’t care. Time to read the book.”

Victorique opened the book, and frowned when she realized that the hall was too dim for reading.

“I’ve never been hit by a girl before,” Kazuya went on. “As the third son of an iImperial soldier, I hereby protest your actions. A woman must stay humble and not look at other men… No, wait. That’s not right. How did it go again?”

“Silence.”

“S-Sorry.” Kazuya slumped.

He gave up on protesting. Instead he opened the library’s swinging door together with the small, terrifying Victorique, and sat down on the stone steps outside, where it was bright.

Kazuya was down just seconds ago, but he seemed to have cheered up.

“Let’s read it, Victorique,” he said with a bright smile.

“Okay.” Victorique looked somewhat disgruntled, but reluctantly opened the purple book. “Hmm, hmm.” She flipped through the pages, reading with incredible speed.

Kazuya brought his head closer to peer at the pages before Victorique could turn them.

Victorique frowned grimly. Kazuya’s head cast a shadow on the book, making it difficult to read. But he was so engrossed in reading that he didn’t seem to notice the signs of danger appearing in Victorique’s small face.

The purple book was about witchcraft, containing in-depth descriptions of necromancy, a spell used by wandering gypsies since the Middle ages.

“Twenty pigeon hearts,” Kazuya read. “Seven owl eyeballs. And three drachmas of a human child’s blood. How many pints of blood is a drachma? What a disturbing book. Ouch!” He groaned, holding his head.

Victorique had slammed the edge of the book on Kazuya’s head as hard as she could. It was loud. She glanced at him. Snorting, she turned her back to Kazuya and resumed reading on her own.

Kazuya rose to his feet. “What is wrong with you?! Do you have something against my head?!”

“Your head was surprisingly ruining my reading,” Victorique said curtly.

“How is my head ruining your reading?! Don’t you ever think about reading a book with someone?”

Victorique looked up. She studied Kazuya’s face with a very curious expression. Then she opened her small lips, red as strawberries. “No.”

“Yeah, figured.” Kazuya plopped down.

A piece of paper fluttered down from the purple book.

It was a postcard, depicting a view of a city by what seemed like the Mediterranean Sea. It bore the recipient’s name on the front—Avril Bradley. The sender’s name was Sir Bradley.

“That’s Avril’s grandfather,” Kazuya said as he rubbed his head. “He was a famous English adventurer. He disappeared somewhere in the Atlantic with his balloon.”

Victorique pointed to the postcard. “There’s a stamp, but no postmark.”

Kazuya cocked his head. “You’re right. So this letter had not yet reached Avril? It’s been in the crypt the whole time, stuck in a book?”

“Who knows?”

Victorique stood up abruptly. She placed the purple book in Kazuya’s lap and trotted away without a word. With her small hands, she pushed the huge library door open and went back inside, still holding the postcard.

“Victorique?”

No reply.

“What’s gotten into you? Are you done with the book?”

The door slammed shut.

Kazuya was getting pissed at Victorique’s behavior. “Listen here. Wait, huh? Victorique?” He opened the door, following Victorique inside, but found no one. “Victorique? Where’d you go?”

The mysterious girl, puffed up with frills and laces, vanished like smoke.

Kazuya looked up the long, labyrinthine stairs. There was no one there either. There was an elevator at the end of the hall, which only faculty and staff could use, so that was out of the question.

“Hello? Where are you, you weird, smart, little meanie?”

No reply.

Kazuya stood there regretfully for a while, before giving up and leaving the library reluctantly.

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“What the hell is her problem? She smacks my head, hurls insults, leaves the book, and disappears. She’s weird, all right. I’ve never met a girl like her before. Not even heard of one.”

Kazuya was walking with the purple book under his arm, mumbling to himself.

He climbed all the way up the top of the library to get to know the mysterious girl—Victorique. He felt as if he had lost her, like a little bird in his hand that flew away. He felt disappointed, lonely, anxious.

Kazuya remembered the object that fell from far above when he entered the library. Victorique had noticed Kazuya sneezing and dropped a piece of tissue paper.

“I thought we were getting pretty close.” He let his shoulders sag.

Kazuya was walking along a different gravel path before returning to his dormitory, when he found himself in front of an abandoned, run-down structure.

Once a storehouse, it had no use at the moment, and none came near it. It was rotting and creepy.

As he stared at it, a cold wind blew. The sun suddenly dimmed. Kazuya looked up and saw gray clouds drifting in. The wind blew again.

Curious, Kazuya approached the storehouse. He peered inside and saw piles of old desks, chairs, dirty mirrors.

As soon as he took a couple of steps inside…

Thwack!

He was hit on the back of his head. It felt hard. The impact was far greater than when the small girl hit him with the book earlier.

Kazuya’s vision turned white, and he fell flat on the floor.

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When he came to, he found himself in a bed in the infirmary. A woman was cooling his head.

Ms. Cecile.

When the teacher saw that he had regained consciousness, she said, “Kujou, any reason you were napping in the storehouse?” She looked aghast.

“What? Uh no, I wasn’t taking a nap.”

Scratching his head, he lifted his body up.

Someone hit me from behind. But who, and why? Was it Avril trying to retrieve the purple book?

He looked around, but the purple book was nowhere to be found.

“Teach, when I was brought here, was I holding a book with a purple cover?”

Ms. Cecile tilted her head. “A purple book? Nope.”

“I see… Uh, did you see Avril near the storehouse, then?”

“Did I see her? She was the one who found you lying there. I immediately called the gardener and had him carry you here.”

If Avril helped me, does that mean she wasn’t the one who hit me?

The door to the infirmary slowly opened. Kazuya saw a pale hand gripping the doorknob.

“Kujou?” Avril peered in. “Are you okay?”

Kazuya’s and Avril’s gazes met. Feeling a strange chill, Kazuya winced back. Avril was staring at him with an odd, inscrutable look on her face.

“Silly Kujou,” she said. “Why were you sleeping there? Too much studying and not enough sleep? Believe me, I was shocked.”

Suddenly she returned to the normal, cheerful Avril. Puzzled by the change, Kazuya fell silent.

Maybe I’m wrong to suspect her… But she was the one who found and hid the purple book, so maybe she attacked me ‘cause I was carrying it around? I could just be overthinking things. Surely she wouldn’t do that.

Avril smiled, unaware of the things going through his mind. “Hey, did you know? That storehouse is apparently famous among the students.”

“No…”

“There’s this ghost of a schoolgirl who died from an illness.

As soon as Avril started talking, Ms. Cecile let out a yelp. “I uhh… I have to create questions for the exam. Oh, and I have to water the flower pots too!” She dashed out of the infirmary, leaving both Kazuya and Avril confused.

The door slammed shut, and the sound of running footsteps faded into the distance.

“They say it’s haunted,” Avril said, getting back on topic. “There’s an underground staircase inside that leads to the afterlife. If the ghost beckons you, and you go down the stairs, you will die.”

Kazuya frowned. “Are you referring to Millie Marl?”

“Maybe. But isn’t it inappropriate to gossip about the dead for fun?” Avril murmured sincerely. “Not a fan of ghost stories, I think.”

Kazuya had seen this look on her face before—mature, not the expression a fifteen-year-old would make. He wondered if she was really his age.

Avril helped Kazuya off the bed. “Also, there’s a story about the library,” she added.

“The library?” Kazuya asked, surprised.

“Yeah. A golden fairy lives at the top. She knows all the mysteries of the world, but in return she demands your soul. That sounds more like a demon than a fairy, doesn’t it?”

“There’s no fairies or demons at the top of the library,” Kazuya said, looking perplexed. “Only Victorique.”

“Who’s Victorique?”

“Did you see that empty seat in our classroom? The one by the window. That seat belongs to Victorique. She always skips class and stays in the library. So the girl at the top of the library is not a golden fairy, but a blonde girl, and what she demands in return is not a soul, but rare, exotic snacks.”

“Hmm…?”

Avril’s eyes lit up with interest as she nodded repeatedly.

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