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The Ghost of Millie Marl Haunts the Abandoned Storehouse – Part 03

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Translator: Kell

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Meanwhile, at St. Marguerite’s Grand Library, a strange, tube-shaped tower filled with the smell of dust, dirt, and wisdom.

“There’s a girl here?”

Standing in the hall, Avril looked up.

“This is no place for a girl. It’s a place for old people, at best. Or ghosts.”

She chuckled at her own words.

“It must be a cozy place for ghosts, though. I wish the ghost of Millie Marl was here instead of that old storehouse.”

She threw her head back and laughed. Then she suddenly stopped, turned serious, and started running up the maze of narrow wooden stairs that led up to the top.

Light and lively footsteps echoed in the dim tower in odd counterpoint.

The huge bookcases that covered the entire walls quivered as the wooden stairs shook.

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Ten minutes later…

“Haa… haa…”

Avril ran up spiritedly the first few minutes, but the labyrinthine stairs, which seemed to stretch on forever, wore her out, and by the last few steps, she was breathing hard with her palms on her knees.

“What’s Kujou thinking… climbing these stairs… normally…?”

Avril looked down the dizzying height. She could see the first-floor hall far below. She followed the labyrinthine stairs with her eyes. Like a squirming, eerie creature, it led from the floor to every corner, ultimately ending at the foot of the stairs where she was standing.

Avril shuddered despite herself. It looked as if the labyrinthine staircase would start moving at any moment and grab her.

“I have a bad feeling about this place,” she mumbled.

Avril hurried up the stairs, stepping out onto the white floor at the top.

She gasped.

A conservatory greeted her.

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The lush greenhouse was filled with tropical trees and garish flowers. The sun peeked through the square skylight above.

Avril looked around. “It doesn’t look like…” Her voice grew louder. “Doesn’t look like anyone’s around.”

The place was deserted.

Avril looked around again and again.

Between the conservatory and the staircase, there was a poorly-lit space about the size of a small room, littered with antique-looking glass lamps, stacks of difficult books, and an old ceramic pipe.

Avril studied the spot with a frown.

The items were covered in dust. She thought she saw a layer of white dust on the floor, as though silence had piled up over a long time.

“There’s no one here,” Avril mumbled once more. “If there is, they’ve gotta be a ghost. Yay, ghosts!” She raised her voice to push the fear away.

Looking around, she started walking. When she neared the entrance to the conservatory, she let out a yelp of genuine fright.

Slowly, her contorted expression turned into a smile of relief.

An extravagant porcelain doll was propped up against the wall.

It looked terribly lonely.

Although much smaller than a human, it was very heavy for a doll. It was clothed in a luxurious Gobelin dress. Long, blonde hair hung down from a small head covered in a crocheted bonnet.

Its eyes were frozen wide open.

Avril suddenly smiled, reached for the doll, and gently lifted it up. Then she hugged it tightly, bringing her face close to the doll’s, and studied its detailed features, with its individually planted eyelashes.

“How adorable!”

It seemed to have been left there for a long time. She sat it down on the floor and brushed the dust off its luxurious dress and hat.

“Looks like a very expensive doll. I think…”

Avril’s expression suddenly changed. It was cold and mature, a completely different face from the cheerful girl she showed to Kazuya and Ms. Cecile.

“This is the work of Grafen Stein, a genius doll maker from the last century. It’s his signature right here.”

Gently lifting the doll’s long, blonde hair, she nodded in satisfaction as she checked the fancy letter “G” on the nape.

“Grafen Stein, the doll maker who made a deal with the devil to put souls into his dolls. Dark porcelain dolls that receive evil souls and walk around at night. His creations fetch a fortune when sold. What a discovery. I came this far into the mountains to obtain the secret legacy of adventurer Sir Bradley, but I didn’t expect to find something like this. You’ve done it again, Ciaran the Second. Maybe I shouldn’t toot my own horn too much. Looks like I might just be as good as the First. Now as for this little girl…”

Avril lifted the doll and looked around. She found a small chest and tried to open the lid to hide the doll in it, but for some reason it wouldn’t budge, so she gave up and quietly hid the doll behind the chest instead.

“Someone might see if I leave the library with the doll in my arms. I hid the purple book carefully too, but someone must have spotted me. Sir Bradley’s legacy that I had found was immediately snatched away from me. I’ll try to get it back, but for now, this doll is staying here. Right! I can just bring a bag to hide it in. No one would notice a dusty doll was stolen anyway. What an unexpected find, though.”

Nodding with satisfaction, she rose to her feet. Then she frowned, remembering something.

“Wait a minute.” Her expression turned curious. “Kujou told me about this place. If I recall correctly, he said there was a girl called Victorique or something. I don’t see her anywhere, though.”

Avril looked around.

An old pipe. A pile of difficult books. Lamps.

Everything seemed unreal, as though untouched for a hundred years. There was a dreamlike silence about the place.

“Don’t tell me you’re the girl that Kujou was talking about,” Avril joked at the doll. “No way, right?”

The porcelain doll did not answer, of course. Its wide, frozen eyes were staring vacantly at her.

“It can’t be… right?”

None gave her an answer.

Avril suddenly shuddered. “A golden fairy lives at the top of the library,” she mumbled.

She turned to the chest where she had hidden the doll and regarded it eerily.

“The fairy demands souls in return…”

Sensing something, she backed away.

“A female doll made by Grafen Stein, a doll maker from the last century, housing a soul inserted by the Devil himself.”

A cold wind blew through the skylight.

“You’re not going to bewitch Kujou and take his soul, are you?”

The doll’s lips, made of pale porcelain, moved. Or so it seemed.

Avril yelped. She retreated several steps and almost fell down the staircase landing. She gave an uncharacteristic click of her tongue.

“N-No way. It’s not possible!” she shouted shakily, and scurried down the labyrinthine stairs.

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Meanwhile, Kazuya was hurrying to the library. After calming down the frightened Ms. Cecile, he went back to the dormitory in search of some unusual snacks.

As soon as he entered the library hall, he bumped hard into someone leaving. It was Avril. For some reason, she was breathing heavily.

“K-Kujou!” she gasped.

“What’s wrong, Avril?”

“I uh… went to the conservatory you told me about.”

“Did you climb to the top? Must’ve been tough, huh? So, what’s wrong?”

Avril was silent, looking like she wanted to say something. “I-It’s nothing,” she said finally. Shaking her head, she hastened out of the library.

“What was that about?” Kazuya wondered.

He did not follow her, and entered the library instead.

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The library was quiet as usual. The air was distinctly dusty in the still sanctuary.

Kazuya looked up at the labyrinthine that stretched to the ceiling gloomily, but with a nod he straightened his posture and began climbing. His footsteps echoed loudly.

But the stairs were long.

Kazuya climbed.

And climbed.

Still climbing.

How long had he been climbing now? He was starting to feel like an evil spell had been cast on him, making him go around in circles. If he looked down, the height would disorient him, stopping him in his tracks.

Suddenly, something small and golden moved in the upper part of his field of vision. Kazuya stopped and squinted.

“Victorique?”

“I trust you brought snacks.” A husky, elderly voice came from far above.

“I did,” Kazuya said, aghast. “It’s called karintō¹. It’s a little hard, but I don’t want to hear any complaints.”

Sniffing audibly, Victorique pulled her head back. Her long, golden hair wriggled like the tail of some strange, ancient creature, and disappeared after her.

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“I just passed Avril at the door,” Kazuya said once he made it to the top. He was breathing raggedly. “She said something about the conservatory. Did you see her?”

“…”

Victorique ignored him.

“Hello?”

“…No,” she said curtly, with reluctance.

“So you didn’t see her? That’s weird.”

Victorique picked up a karinto with a scowl. She studied it from the side, above, then moved it closer to her tiny nose for a sniff.

“It smells sweet!”

Kazuya glanced at Victorique’s face. Her smile said she liked it.

“Of course,” Kazuya said happily. “It’s candy, after all.”

“It looks like dog poop, though.”

“Girls shouldn’t say poop.”

Victorique opened her small lips and popped a karinto into her mouth.

She frowned. “It’s hard.”

“I see you don’t like hard things,” Kazuya said. “You even threw away the kaminari-okoshi. You’re like an old lady. Ow!”

Victorique kicked his shin with the sole of her boot. Reeling from the pain, Kazuya cast a sidelong glance at her. She seemed to like the karinto. She was reaching for a second one, much to his relief.

“Ow… Anyway, I have more things to share,” Kazuya said. “I’ll start from the top. So I ran into Inspector Blois earlier. Apparently he’s searching for a master thief called Ciaran the Second or something. No one knows their name or face. And then…”

Kazuya proceeded to tell her everything that happened so far.

“I know who Ciaran is,” Victorique said casually.

“What do you know about them?” Kazuya asked, baffled.

“Their name and face.”

“…”

“The one named Avril or whatever. She’s Ciaran the Second. She was here earlier, bragging about herself. She looked pretty dumb, though.”

Losing interest in the subject, Victorique placed a book on her lap and started reading at great speed. After finishing the page in no time at all, she flipped to the next one.

Kazuya dropped his karinto.

Victorique lifted her gaze. “What’s the matter?” she asked. “Why is your mouth open like an idiot? Don’t cry to me if you swallow a bug.”

“Avril is Ciaran?!”

“That’s what I said.”

“Are you sure?”

“What would I gain from lying?”

Victorique ignored him and went back to reading. She was munching on a karinto.

“No way!”

“Shut up, Kujou!” Victorique barked. She grabbed a handful of karinto and threw them at Kazuya. “Be quiet! I’m reading.”

“…What does this mean?”

“How should I know?”

Victorique ignored him for a while, smoking her pipe. Then she glanced at him with a devilish grin.

“Would you like to hear it?” she asked.

“Hear what?”

“The truth that my Wellspring of Wisdom had reconstructed after toying with fragments of chaos to stave off my boredom.”

Kazuya leaned forward. “You mean solve the mystery? But what else do you know?”

“The identity of the first Ciaran.”

“What? Is it someone we know?” Kazuya asked, bewildered. “Who is it?”

Victorique’s green eyes widened. A cold flame was burning inside. A fearless, sorrowful, strange flame that he had never seen before.

“It’s…”

Victorique uttered a name.

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The master thief Ciaran was in St. Marguerite Academy. And the mysterious foreign student was his successor.

She was after a mysterious, purple book that described sinister rituals of resurrecting the dead.

Kazuya Kujou, a foreign exchange student from the Orient, was dragged into the case, together with a mysterious girl with a bizarre intellect—his guardian angel, or a demon after his soul—Victorique.

Victorique and Kazuya’s adventure over the purple book will later come to a surprising conclusion, but that’s a story for another time.

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