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The Girl in the Painting – Part 03

In a cozy gazebo at sunny St. Marguerite Academy, Victorique was sitting on a round chair, slumped over a round wooden table that was too high for her small frame. Victorique’s magnificent golden hair lay scattered like a bundle of untied silk threads on the table, cascading down to the floor like a waterfall of gold.

In addition to Victorique’s small head and slim arms, there were also other things on the table. An empty white plate, and a silver knife and fork that seemed too big for her.

“I’m hungry,” she mumbled in a sad, faint voice.

A rumble came from within her fluffy dress. She lay on the table like a lazy kitten, unable to move. But suddenly he heard a sound coming from afar, and her tiny ears twitched.

Clatter. Clatter.

It was the sound of wooden sandals. It was coming from the deserted pathway, headed toward the gazebo. Victorique’s face was expressionless, still as an ancient creature’s, but a faint smile appeared on her lips.

“…rique!”

She heard someone calling her name from the distance. The voice, along with the sound of footsteps, was getting closer and closer. Victorique smiled as she raised her body up.

Her stomach rumbled again.

Kazuya’s voice was getting closer. “Victorique!”

“You’re finally back, you scoundrel.”

“I brought your favorite!” Kazuya yelled as he came running toward her.

Victorique got up from her seat. With an empty white plate in front of her, a knife in her right hand and a fork in her left, she looked at Kazuya.

“Very well. You’re a bit late, but I will forgive you.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. And she looked mad.

Kazuya was empty-handed. He rushed into the gazebo, geta clattering, kimono rustling.

“I got you a case!”

“…”

Victorique shot Kazuya a silent glare.

---

“Ow! Ow! Stop it, Victorique! I thought you’d love it! Besides, they’re in a tight spot…”

“Where’s the cake? The soufflés? Cookies? Jam? My snacks…”

Kazuya was running around in the gazebo, while Victorique, tears in her eyes, was stabbing him in the back with her knife and fork. She was glowering at him for bringing nothing.

Victorique let out a groan.

“Wh-What?”

“Traitor.”

“Okay, now you’re just overreacting. I came across an incident. I thought about sharing it with you, so I returned quick. And then I forgot to buy anything. Sorry about that. I’ll go buy you some food. Just wait here. I’m heading back to the village.” Kazuya turned to leave, then looked back. “What is it?”

Victorique was stepping on his geta with her little flower-patterned, high-heeled shoes.

Kazuya studied her face, but he saw no expression. He glanced at his feet. She was definitely stepping on his sandals.

Wait, is she stopping me from going?

“What?” Kazuya asked.

“Before you head back to the village, tell me about the case.”

“O-Okay.”

Victorique’s tiny stomach rumbled.

Kazuya sat down on a round chair. “So this morning,” he began, “something happened at the village hall’s art gallery…”

---

Meanwhile…

Ian and Evan, who had been following Kazuya, were hiding behind the flowerbeds, watching him from among the colorful flowers in full bloom.

Up ahead, Kujou Kazuya, whom they suspected of being a great detective, was alone, playing with a doll for some reason.

On a small chair in the gazebo sat an elaborate porcelain doll with magnificent golden hair hanging down. Her white, ruffled dress billowed out like a flower, the miniature hat on her tiny head a bud about to blossom.

Kazuya seemed to be talking to the doll, wearing a serious expression.

“Come to think of it,” Ian said, bewildered. “Inspector Blois also likes dolls.”

“Yeah.” Evan nodded.

“He left with a black-haired doll. He said it was worth a whole mansion.”

“But Kazuya Kujou’s doll is more…”

“Impressive.

“It’s almost like it’s alive,” Evan breathed. “It’s beautiful. Extraordinary.”

“Yeah…”

“So does that mean that the Inspector and Kazuya Kujou are good friends because they both like dolls?”

“That must be it.”

“Ah, he left!”

Kazuya got up and left the gazebo, leaving the doll behind. Ian and Evan quickly followed him.

The bright summer sun beamed down on the pathway. Refreshing water trickled down the white fountain.

---

When Kazuya returned to the village hall, the female tourist had just been released and was coming out of the police station across the street.

“Please wait!” Kazuya called her as she hurried away.

The woman turned around, startled. Just then, Ian and Evan caught up with Kazuya.

“What’s wrong?” they asked.

“We can’t let her leave,” Kazuya said.

The village mayor and the custodian also came out, glancing at both Kazuya and the woman.

“I didn’t have anything in my possession, and they found nothing suspicious, so they let me go,” the woman grumbled. “I’m leaving.”

Ian and Evan stopped her.

“Is she the culprit, then?” the mayor asked Kazuya. “How did she steal the painting? She didn’t have anything with her.”

“That’s right. She was empty-handed,” the custodian mumbled. “If she was the thief, where did the stolen painting go? It’s a big painting, you know.”

Kazuya nodded, and turned to Ian. “Please bring the white canvas that was left in the gallery.”

“Okay.”

Ian brought a blank canvas.

“Untie the long ribbon on the mademoiselle’s hair,” Kazuya told Evan.

The moment he said that, the woman, who had been standing calmly, suddenly started screaming and thrashing about. Astonished, the police officers seized her and untied the ribbon that adorned her hair like the lady in the painting. It was white on the front, but upon removing it, the back of the ribbon was a strange mixture of different colors with no pattern of any kind.

Kazuya took the ribbon and wrapped it around the canvas. After several attempts, he eventually found the perfect way to wrap it. As he continued wrapping the ribbon around the canvas, the image of the missing Portrait of the Lady in Ribbons gradually appeared on its surface.

“What is this? What is going on here?!” the village mayor exclaimed.

The custodian and the gathering villagers were gaping at the canvas.

When Kazuya was done, the painting was back on what was supposed to be a blank canvas.

“So you’re telling me that this woman walked into the exhibit earlier, untied the ribbon, wrapped it around her own hair, and came out empty-handed?” the custodian said. “After that, all that was left was a blank canvas.”

“That’s right,” Kazuya nodded.

“So the painting brought to the village was fake all along?” the mayor asked.

“Not really.” Kazuya turned to Ian and Evan. “Please examine the room where the mademoiselle was staying. You will find the missing painting there. The authentic Portrait of the Lady in Ribbons.”

The mayor and the custodian looked at each other. Ian and Evan just stood there blankly for a while.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Then hand-in-hand, they started away.

---

Approximately one hour later.

Soft sunlight was falling on the quiet, afternoon campus of St. Marguerite Academy.

On a plate on the round table in the gazebo sat a whole cake of pure-white cheese that Kazuya had bought, topped with a dollop of lingonberry jam.

“Cake, cake,” Victorique muttered melodiously.

Kazuya, standing behind her like an attendant, said worriedly, “Why’d you put a whole jar of jam? Look, your fingers are all sticky.”

“Quiet,” Victorique said curtly.

She cut a large piece of cake with her silver knife, stabbed it with her fork, and stuffed it into her little mouth. The lingonberry jam dripped from the corner of her glossy cherry lips down to her chin.

“There’s jam on your mouth,” Kazuya said. “You’re making a mess of your precious dress.”

Gobble, gobble.

Kazuya wiped Victorique’s face with a napkin. “You were starving, huh?”

“Of course.” Victorique stuffed the next piece into her mouth. “Your tardiness almost killed me.”

“You’re exaggerating. Anyway, what exactly happened in the painting case earlier?”

“You want me to verbalize it?” Victorique groaned.

Kazuya sat down in the round chair next to her, nodding repeatedly.

Victorique sighed. “Fine. It’s tedious, but I’ll gladly verbalize it for you, halfwit. I want to see tears as you thank me.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just get on with it.”

Victorique shot him a glare. “Let us designate the time the crime was committed as ‘hour zero’. It actually came much earlier than originally thought.”

“Can you explain it in simple terms? You know, so I can understand.”

“What I’m saying is,” she went on, sounding wearier. “You guys thought the woman stole the painting this morning when she was leaving the gallery with a ribbon in her hair. But the fact is, she didn’t. The painting was stolen yesterday.”

“What? But they said the painting was there this morning.”

“It was a fake. A blank canvas with a ribbon wrapped around it. It could’ve fooled anyone looking from a distance.” Victorique cut another piece of cake. “Listen closely. When the artworks were brought in yesterday, a small young worker, a boy, left while being yelled at by the custodian. The detectives said the boy was carrying a flat, square package. I believe—and this is only a guess—that the boy and woman who was arrested the next morning were the same person.”

“Now that you mention it, they found a worker’s uniform in the room with the painting.”

“Yes. She blended in with the workers, and somewhere along the way she replaced the real painting with a fake one with a ribbon wrapped around it. She then took the real one with her after bringing them to the gallery.”

“Ahuh, ahuh.”

“And to cover up the time of the crime, she went into the gallery this morning, this time dressed as a woman. She untied the ribbon to create a blank canvas, and tried to make it look as if the crime had been committed today. It would have been perfect if she got out without being caught, but even if she was caught, the authorities would find that she was empty-handed and wouldn’t bother checking the ribbon in her hair. After she was released, she was going to escape with the real painting, which she had hidden in the inn.”

“Oh…” Kazuya nodded. “I get it now. I’m glad we found the painting. The villagers were panicking.”

“Yes.”

A bird chirped. A slight breeze blew, rustling the lush green grass. The sunlight was growing gentler as the end of summer approached. Kazuya gazed at the scenery and then turned his gaze back to Victorique.

“I see. You’re so… Wait, what’s wrong?”

Victorique was silent, holding her stomach. She seemed to be in a bit of pain.

“What’s the matter? Why are you holding your stomach? Victorique?”

“I’m so… full…” Victorique left the gazebo and fell over on her back on the grass.

“You had too much to eat. You have a tiny stomach, so you shouldn’t be eating a cake that big. Victorique? Hello?” Kazuya hurried to her side. He opened the parasol he had left at the gazebo to shield her from the sun. “Hey, Victorique.”

She groaned.

“Hey…”

“I’m getting bored again. And I’m also full.” Victorique closed her eyes.

Kazuya studied her, then smiled. He looked up at the sky.

---

The peaceful, seemingly-endless summer break was almost over. The academy’s students would take over the lawns, gazebos, and benches once they returned from their holidays. Then Victorique would probably return to her quiet, secret hideout at the top of the library tower.

Kazuya watched his friend. Victorique had her little belly facing the sky, her eyes closed in contentment. Her golden hair billowed out on the green grass like a sparkling gold fan.

I’d like to cherish the rest of the summer break with her.

He smiled once more.