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The Masquerade Ball – Part 05

Back in the compartment, the four guests of the Masquerade Ball were all making themselves at home. The Dead and the Lumberjack were playing cards together, and the Orphan was leaning on the shoulder of the Empress, exhausted, mumbling to herself at times. The Empress was flipping through a women’s magazine spread out on her lap, reading intently.

Kazuya studied the Orphan. Her eyes were closed, her face completely fatigued. She didn’t seem to be lying. He was watching her for a while, hoping to catch something, when the Empress noticed his gaze and looked at him curiously. Unaware, Kazuya kept his eyes fixed on the Orphan.

Thwack!

Someone slapped him on the face.

Kazuya’s eyes fluttered in surprise. Startled by the sound, the others looked at Kazuya.

Standing tiptoe in front of him was Victorique, face red and arms outstretched. The bottom of her black-and-white apron dress swayed, and her silver boots were squished from her tiptoeing. Victorique spread the palms of her chubby hands out wide, and…

Thwack!

Slapped him even harder this time.

“Ouch!”

“Indeed.”

“What do you mean, ‘indeed’? What’s the matter with you? Did I do something wrong? How could you slap a gentleman’s face out of nowhere?”

“You want a reason?!”

She opened her mouth to explain, but closed her cherry lips in annoyance. Losing interest, she looked away, then flipped her gaze back to Kazuya.

Slap!

“Ow! What are you doing?! You’re hurting me!”

Slap! Slap! Slap!

Using all she got, Victorique, her face turning beet red, slapped his face, neck, and back so hard that Kazuya had to run around the small compartment to dodge her. The Dead, appalled, lifted his head up to say something, but gave up on the idea, and went back to playing cards.

A little while later, the Dead and the Lumberjack got up to have some wine in the dining car. When they left, Victorique put her hands down.

“Phew! That’s enough, Kujou,” she said, satisfied. “Sit down and relax.”

“Relax, my foot! Why are you doing this?!”

“Why? To get rid of the danger, of course.” Victorique eyed Kazuya curiously, like she just stated something obvious. She stared at him with clear, unsuspecting eyes, a smug look on her face.

“Why do you always hit and kick me?” he asked.

“I-I didn’t kick you.”

Victorique’s face dimmed. She cast her eyes down and let her shoulders sag.

“Well, you’re not kicking me now, sure. But why would you hit me out of nowhere? A gentleman’s face should be respected by ladies. But you… If you don’t give me a proper reason, I’ll get angry.”

“…”

“If you have a justifiable reason for what you did, I’m all ears. Come on.”

“Shut up. Whatever.”

Victorique plopped down on the seat with a deep frown. Kazuya sat down next to her, and turned his back.

They remained silent for a while. The train rocked along the tracks. The night was getting deeper, and the Orphan and the Empress sitting across began blinking their eyes drowsily. The magazine fell from the Empress’s lap to the floor.

Kazuya picked it up and gently placed it back on her knees.

He glanced at Victorique. “Hey, where’s your apology?”

Victorique did not reply.

Since she wasn’t moving a muscle, Kazuya wondered if she was asleep. Leaning forward, he gently peeked at the small face hidden by her golden hair.

Tears and sadness filled her green eyes, and her cheeks were red and bulging from having her pride hurt. Her tightly-pursed cherry lips said she was not saying a word no matter what.

“Wh-What’s with the face?” Kazuya asked, perplexed.

No answer. She groaned faintly, but no words came out of her.

“You’re such an enigma. Why are you looking like that? Hello? Victorique?”

She still wasn’t responding, so he poked her on the cheek. There was a groan of protest that sounded like the bark of a wolf pup. Kazuya gave up and propped his chin on his hand.

“Fine. I get it. You’re in a bad mood right now, and you’re mad at me for some reason, but you won’t tell me why. How am I supposed to know what to do, then? You’re such a child.”

Victorique’s eyes widened a little. Then she turned her head away, ignoring him. Her teary, sorrowful eyes worried Kazuya, but he couldn’t do anything about it.

“I’m going to the dining car,” he said.

“…”

Victorique glanced at Kazuya’s back as he stood up, looking a little sad. But when Kazuya looked back right before he left the compartment, she had turned her head away stubbornly.

Kazuya clicked his tongue.

“See you later, brat.”

He closed the door.

Kazuya walked down the corridor of the wobbling train.

A shrill whistle came from behind. The lights were off, and the corridor was shadowy.

The thunderstorm seemed to have gone away. The night was filled with quiet.

---

“Tsk… Why’d she slap me so hard?” Walking down the dim corridor, Kazuya sighed several times.

The soft, blood-red carpet felt unsettling under his feet. Dimmed orange lamps cast a faint dusky light on Kazuya.

The train sometimes lurched to the right and then to the left. The whistle sounded, long and high, and like the cry of an animal, it trailed off into the darkness of the night.

“Seriously. You can’t just go around slapping people without a reason,” Kazuya mumbled.

He entered the dining car. People were crowded around tables with glittering white tablecloths. Everywhere on the train was packed with people tonight. A red-faced middle-aged gentleman shouted to Kazuya, who was wearing a waiter’s uniform.

“More wine and whisky over here!”

“I’m not a waiter,” Kazuya said, quickly scurrying away from the table. “Right. I’m wearing these clothes. My presence is gonna confuse people for sure.”

Someone pulled on his arm.

“I’m not… a waiter… Oh, it’s the Dead and the Lumberjack.”

A large, bearded man and an aristocratic-looking young man were seated at a round table with an elaborate design that resembled a lion’s paw, playing cards. Court cards were scattered on the table—grim-faced kings and queens, and sinister jacks in all black. The Dead sat Kazuya down in an empty seat and gulped down a glass of wine.

The train shuddered as it sped along.

The whistle blared high.

The Lumberjack raised his head. “Well, look who’s here.”

Kazuya glanced up. The door to the dining room opened, and the Empress entered with the Orphan. The Lumberjack waved at the two women and motioned them to their side.

“Do you mind if we join you?” the Empress asked with a smile. “I’m wide awake now.”

“Not at all. Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you.”

The Lumberjack shifted the chairs, and the two women sat down at the round table. Glasses were handed out. The three adults drank wine, while Kazuya and the Orphan had water.

Kazuya kept glancing back at the door restlessly. “I’m heading back,” he told the Dead, who was shuffling the cards. “I left my friend behind. If the Empress and Orphan are here, that means she’s alone.”

“She could be asleep. It’s already late.”

“Oh, no, she was awake,” the Empress said. “I invited her to come, but she just shook her head, so we left her there. It looked like she wanted to be alone.”

“I know, but she’s always like that. Also—” Kazuya shut his mouth.

That girl—Victorique de Blois—was tremendously smart, and although she spent her days playing with her brain, reading mountains of books alone, occasionally eating sweets… Although she liked to be alone, in truth, she felt lonely.

By now, Kazuya had a better understanding of his friend Victorique. He wasn’t exactly sure about his conclusion, but he had a feeling that she was more complex and mysterious than the labyrinthine stairs of the library tower—a great mystery.

Kazuya stood up to go check on her. Suddenly, someone grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back to his seat. Kazuya thought that he had been grabbed by the Dead’s burly hands, but he saw that he was sitting right in front of him. He was not within arm’s reach.

Surprised, he glanced down and saw a thin, pasty hand gripping his arm tight.

It was the Orphan. Her dark, blue eyes flickered, glaring at Kazuya.