3 bar menu

The Girl in the Painting – Part 01

Summer’s end was approaching, and the sun’s rays had grown softer.

St. Marguerite Academy.

The U-shaped school building, bathed in the rays of the summer sun, was completely silent, with no students in sight. The campus, modeled after French-style gardens, was filled with colorful flowers, a white fountain that looked like melting pillars of ice, cozy gazebos, and dense thickets. It was as vast and quiet as ever.

A few squirrels wandered out of the woods and scurried across the verdant lawn. A small oriental boy wearing an indigo kimono with a dark obi was walking along the path beside the grass, his geta clattering.

He had smooth jet-black hair and somewhat forlorn, jet-black eyes. Wearing a grave look, he was holding a folded parasol with white and pink frills that clashed with his overall attire.

“Hey, Victorique!”

He continued down the path, looking for someone. He couldn’t find them in the gazebo, the bench on the lawn, or under the cozy shade of the trees. After a while, the boy—Kazuya Kujou—went back the same way.

“Victorique! Where are you? Victorique!”

Calling the same name, he checked under the bench and behind the flowerbeds, as though looking for a lost kitten.

“Where did she go?”

He was getting worried by the minute.

End of summer. There were only a few days left in St. Marguerite Academy’s long break.

---

“Victorique!”

Evening.

As the sun’s rays began to wane, casting a slight shadow over the grass, the fountain emitted a soothing sound, occasionally accompanied by the chirping of birds.

Kazuya, wearing the same outfit as earlier, came walking down the path again. He had left his parasol somewhere and was instead holding a large, freshly-baked whole cake in one hand.

“Victorique? I got snacks!” he shouted, swinging the cake from side to side. “It’s a freshly-baked orange cake. Where on earth did you go? Miss Sophie gave this to me. I know you want it. Here, Victorique!”

A faint, husky groan came from really close by. Kazuya jumped, almost dropping the cake. He looked around. Placing the orange cake on the bench, he peeked under the bench, and reached into the hollow of a large zelkova tree nearby.

“Victorique? Where are you?”

“Over here, you buffoon.” The voice sounded even grumpier.

Kazuya looked around once more. Then he glanced up in disbelief.

There was a golden tuft hanging down from the dense foliage of a large tree. Swaying invitingly, it looked like the tail of some ancient, mysterious creature.

Kazuya cocked his head to the side. Then he grabbed the golden tail and tugged.

“Stop!” A growl came from above.

Frowning, Kazuya peered into the leaves.

Like a lone flower blooming, a heap of bright pink ruffles and translucent, exquisite laces stirred high above, irritated.

“Victorique? Oh, little, cranky lady. What are you doing up there?”

Her stomach grumbled in response.

“Are you hungry?” Kazuya said. “Oh, yeah. I haven’t seen you all day. Not in the library, the candy house, or the gazebo. Don’t tell me you were up there the whole time. Come on down. I’ve got some sweet and fluffy freshly-baked cake for you.”

Victorique’s face, small and refined, like a porcelain doll, appeared from the leaves. Green eyes gleaming darkly. Lips as glossy as cherries. Her rosy cheeks had paled a little.

“What’s wrong?” Kazuya asked. “Come on down.”

Victorique grunted.

Kazuya held his hand up, then lowered it back down, realizing that it was rather high. His gaze went from Victorique to the branches and the hollow of the zelkova tree, then back up to Victorique.

“I think I know what’s going on,” he said.

“…”

“You can’t get down, can you?”

Like a wild animal whose pride had been wounded, Victorique hung her head silently, her face flushed red from embarrassment. Kazuya kept his gaze away from her as much as possible.

“I’ll go get a ladder,” he said. “Just hide there.”

Kazuya sprinted away. Victorique’s expression softened in relief.

A dry summer breeze blew, shaking the lush leaves and Victorique’s golden hair that hung down like a tail. It was a quiet, peaceful, summer evening.

At that moment, Ms. Cecile and Sophie the dorm mother, arrived, holding hands. Since it was summer break, they weren’t in their work attire; instead they were wearing simple white dresses and pretty sandals. Ms. Cecile, with her curly brown hair and her large round glasses, was having a fun chat with the freckled, red-haired Sophie.

Ms. Cecile noticed the delicious-looking cake on the bench. She poked her friend’s arm.

“Look, Sophie! Cake.”

“Hmm? Oh, you’re right. It’s the one I baked earlier. What’s it doing here?”

They sat down on the bench and started eating the cake together. Leaves fell from the nearby zelkova tree, branches shook, and there was a strange, animal-sounding cry. But neither of them cared as they ate the whole thing, gossiping about women from the village and talking about clothes and last night’s dinner.

Cecile and Sophie stood up like nothing happened and walked away, hand-in-hand.

“That was delicious.”

“It really was.”

“So anyway, this dessert I had last night…”

All that was left was an empty bench, an unusually large number of fallen leaves, and faint sobs.

---

“Victorique!”

A few moments later, Kazuya came running back sweating, carrying a ladder. With the hem of his kimono in disarray, he climbed the ladder to the tree, and held out his arms with a smile to his little friend buried in the leaves.

Out of nowhere, she scratched him on the face, and he screamed.

“Ow! Watch it!” Kazuya warned. “I’m here to help you, and this is what I get? Just settle down, and… Stop pinching my face! Why are you crying? The cake? Ouch!”

The ladder swayed precariously. After a few moments of silent grappling, Kazuya finally managed to calm his friend down. He carried the mass of frills and laces—Victorique de Blois—under her arm and went down the ladder. His glum face was full of scratches.

“I’ll ask her to make another one,” he said.

“…”

“Don’t you dare scratch me. It hurts.”

“…”

“Are you listening? If you ever pull a stunt like this again, I’m going to be really pissed off at you.”

“Hmph.”

The two made it above ground. While Kazuya was putting the ladder away, Victorique dashed across the grass toward the flowerbed maze, her pink ruffles rustling.

“Hey! Where are you going?” There was a tinge of sadness in Kazuya’s voice.

Carrying the ladder, he started walking down the darkening pathway.

---

Meanwhile…

In a corner of the village, just a short distance away from the campus of St. Marguerite Academy…

A man in his fifties with graying hair was ordering people to carry stuff into the village hall located across the brick police station.

“Useless. Every single one of you,” he spat. For a while now, he’d done nothing but arrogantly boss people around. “All right, unpack that one. That goes here. We’re not going to make it in time for the exhibit tomorrow.”

The man—the custodian of the art gallery on the ground floor—wiped the sweat from his forehead.

“We’re going to display the famous ‘Portrait of a Lady in Ribbons.’ Everything has to be in order for a successful exhibit.”

He yelled at a young boy. The workers nervously unpacked the paintings and sculptures, arranging them as instructed.

“I swear to God,” the custodian mumbled again.

---

“I’m counting on you. I’m sure you’ll do well even without this great inspector around. Hahaha!”

Meanwhile in the police station across the street, Inspector Grevil de Blois, who had recently made a name for himself by solving one case after another, was just now striding down the corridor, his sparkling, drill-shaped hair swinging from side to side.

As usual, he was dressed impeccably like a beau. He was wearing a silk shirt with shiny cufflinks and a silver watch on his wrist. In one hand he carried a briefcase and in the other he held an antique porcelain doll that was said to cost enough to buy an entire mansion. The little exotic-looking doll with black hair and blue eyes seemed to be staring at Inspector Blois’s odd hairdo in disbelief.

Behind him, a pair of young men wearing rabbit-skin hunting caps, holding hands, nodded.

“We will!”

“We’ll be fine, Inspector!”

They appeared to be around twenty years old and looked very much alike. Ian, however, was skinnier, with almond eyes, while Evan had dropping eyes, and was a little chubby. Holding hands, they followed the inspector, deftly weaving their way through the busy corridor.

As they exited the building, Inspector Blois whirled around. His pointy drill glittered in the setting sun.

“Ian. Evan.”

“Sir.”

“Sir.”

They regarded the inspector with innocent smiles.

“While I’m gone…”

Workers streamed out of the village hall across the street. The custodian was yelling about something, and a boy holding a big, flat package was saying something in return. An older worker seemed to be holding him back.

Inspector Blois turned and saw the commotion. He narrowed his eyes, wondering what the ruckus was about. Then he turned his gaze back to his subordinates.

“If something happens while I’m gone, you two will solve it.”

“Yes, sir!

“Yes, sir!

“You will solve it even without me. Or else, you’re fired.”

“What?”

“What?”

Their faces darkened.

“What would I tell mom if I got fired?” Ian mumbled.

“My sister eats more than me,” Evan added.

Inspector Blois’s eyes darted between the two.

“All you have to do is solve it. Easy enough. Bye now. I’m staying two nights in Saubreme, then I’ll be right back. I’m going to buy a new doll at the auction. See you later.” He walked away with a doll in his hand.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

They waved with their free hand. The door of the village hall across the street slammed shut.

The sun was setting, and the orange glow of evening was blanketing the village.

One evening, at the end of summer.