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The Masquerade Ball – Part 08

A middle-aged engineer was groaning, holding his arm. It was the gunfire from earlier, Kazuya realized. One of the two shots fired in rapid succession hit the engineer in the arm.

The other shot, as accurately guessed by the Dead, had destroyed the brake valve. The conductor and several adult passengers showed up, but everyone had lost their composure, screaming, turning pale, leaning against the walls.

The Orphan was lying on the floor, wide-eyed and breathing faintly. Victorique was in the middle of taking the gun clutched in her hand. Kazuya crouched down and snatched the gun from the Orphan’s tight grasp.

“Here you go.” He handed the gun to Victorique.

The engineer looked at Kazuya. “Y-You…” he groaned. “Check… the brakes…”

“On it!”

Kazuya grabbed the broken brake valve with both hands. The lever was stuck and would not budge. The morning sun slowly illuminated the cab. The floor was slippery with glistening crimson blood. The engineer pointed ahead with a trembling finger.

“There’s a turnout just ahead.”

“A turnout?”

“It’s a switch to change tracks. If we don’t do something, this train will continue running all the way to its final stop, Saubreme, causing the biggest accident the Charles de Gillet station have ever seen. Switch from the main line to the siding. The siding slopes upward, so the train will slow down on its own. Shoot the switch operating device.”

Kazuya nodded as he wrapped his own apron around the engineer’s arm to stop the bleeding. The engineer thanked him and pointed ahead again.

“I can see it. It’s still far. That’s it. The black-and-white square sign. Shoot that thing.”

“Got it,” answered a low voice.

Kazuya turned around to see Victorique, her cherry lips pursed, holding a gun in her hand. With her small body, it looked like she was holding a huge cannon.

“Y-You can’t,” Kazuya said, shocked.

“Oh, but I can,” Victorique replied indifferently.

“Wh-What do you mean? Do you know how to use a gun?”

“No,” she replied proudly. Her feet in their tiny silver boots wobbled from the weight of the gun. “But Gray Wolves can do anything.”

“No, they can’t! They can’t do a lot of things!” Kazuya exclaimed. “Remember all the times you screwed up. You climbed a tree and couldn’t climb down. You ate too much candy and couldn’t move. Remember. It helps to be humble sometimes.”

“Well said, Kujou. Simpletons like you need humility. Keep that in mind starting tomorrow.”

“No, no, no. You’re the one who needs it! Hey!”

Before Kazuya could stop her, Victorique pulled the trigger.

Her golden hair bounced as a gunshot rang out, and her tiny body recoiled, lifting her into the air. Kazuya quickly slid to the spot where he expected Victorique to fall, slamming his chest, knee, and forehead on the floor. He groaned in pain. Plopping onto Kazuya’s buttocks, Victorique stretched like delicate, pastry cream. The bullet, of course, missed its target badly, lodging into the wall.

“Apparently, I can’t,” Victorique breathed, surprised.

“I told you!”

“A new discovery.”

“You should have known that before you took the shot! You’ve never fired a gun before! And for the record, a simpleton like me knew right from the start. You hear me?”

“Only barbarians believe in empiricism, Kujou,” the little Gray Wolf protested, her pride hurt. “I have never fired a gun before, but I know the theory of it well. Above all, I have my intellect—my Wellspring of Wisdom—with… me…” Her voice was low as usual, but she sounded slightly unsure. Her pouty cheeks were a little red.

“All that doesn’t matter, you big idiot!” Kazuya snapped, rising to his feet. He was about to take the gun from Victorique, but when he saw that she was about to give it to him, he changed his mind, and let her keep it.

“Fine,” he said. “Position yourself.”

“O-Okay.” Victorique nodded, blinking in surprise.

She then planted her tiny feet firmly and brandished the gun. Her stance was worrisome, as though she did not, in fact, understand the theories well.

Kazuya put his hand on the gun too.

As soon as their hands touched, the barrel of the gun stopped shaking. Victorique’s and Kazuya’s petite frames, dressed in matching black-and-white waiter’s uniforms, snuggled gently, with the gun in the middle. It was as if they were one. Locked in an intimate embrace. A magical, special closeness that was only found in this moment.

Victorique gently leaned against Kazuya.

Kazuya felt her veil of golden hair cascading down his arms. Victorique’s tiny head was in his chest. It felt like a huge ball of light, a mass of energy that had never touched before.

Uhh…

Kazuya used his brilliant mind to make a quick mental calculation. A revolver has six bullet chambers. The Orphan first shot the lock of the dining car door. Then she ran to the driver’s cab and fired two more shots, at the engineer’s arm and the brake valve. Victorique fired a single shot just now. Four bullets had already been fired.

If the gun was fully loaded, there would be two bullets left. If it wasn’t…

Kazuya swallowed.

Victorique was trembling faintly. The barrel was completely stable.

The switching device was approaching.

“Now!” Kazuya hissed.

Victorique quickly pulled the trigger. A gunshot sounded. The shot just barely missed. The device did not so much as twitch. In Kazuya’s chest, Victorique trembled like an anxious little bird.

Only one shot left… I think… I hope so.

Kazuya did not mention to Victorique the possibility that if she missed, there would be no next time.

“Victorique,” he whispered in a soothing voice.

Victorique grunted.

“Be still. Don’t worry, I’m here. We’ll get through this together. And then we’ll return to St. Marguerite. I promise.”

“Uh…”

“One more shot, together this time. We’re not gonna miss.”

“Okay.” Victorique, shaking, gave a firm nod. “One more, Kujou.”

Matching their breathing, they snuggled close, and aimed calmly.

The last bullet, a tiny black object that would decide the fate of two people, and many more…

“Now!”

…was fired.

A gunshot rang out.

Kazuya held the little Victorique to his chest and planted his feet firmly so she wouldn’t be blown back by the recoil. The bullet they fired together zipped into the distance.

And…

Hit the center of the switching device. It shuddered, and slowly, the track switched.

Kazuya breathed a small sigh of relief.

“See?” Victorique whispered. “I told you I could do it.” She was looking up at Kazuya with the smug look of a child.

“Yeah.” Kazuya nodded with a smile.

They wore similar expressions, strangely calm, the traces of the magic that just happened still on their faces.

“Yeah, you did it.”

The train began to curve to the right, along the switched tracks.

From the floor came an ominous voice that seemed to echo from the depths of hell.

The Orphan was moaning.

“Don’t stop the train,” she said.

Victorique glanced at her.

“Please. Don’t stop the train. It’s better if we all die together. The Ministry of the Occult must not have Jupiter Roget’s memento box. If I can’t get away, I might as well blow up this train to stop… them.”

The Orphan coughed up crimson blood. She was quivering, her eyes closed. Her words sounded so different from the ones Kazuya heard in the compartment and the dining car. Was her crazy talk just an act? Victorique had already figured it out earlier, though.

The train gradually began to climb. Its speed dropped, and it stopped rocking violently.

The Old Masquerade shuddered, making several low, eerie creaks as its wheels slid along the tracks, and finally came to a stop.

As soon as the train stopped moving, cries of relief resounded.

The Lumberjack came running, having crawled out of the dining car window. He stumbled into the driver’s cab, and when he saw Kazuya, his face scrunched up, and he hugged him tightly.

“I-I’m sorry for kicking you earlier,” Kazuya said.

“It’s okay. I’m fine. I’m so glad you’re all right.” Tears welled up in his eyes. “Thank goodness. I thought you fell off the roof. It’s how my father died. My sister and I watched him fall off the roof through the window. I’m just so happy you’re alive.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lumberjack.”

The young man shook his head. “You can stop calling me that. The masquerade is over. I’m not a lumberjack. I’m actually a student at the University of Sauville. My name is Gideon Legrant. Nice to meet you.” He shook hands with Kazuya, looking embarrassed.

“Did you say Legrant?” Victorique mumbled from the side.

Kazuya, too, thought the name sounded familiar. But he couldn’t quite remember where he heard it.

When he spotted the Orphan, the Lumberjack—Gideon Legrant—gasped.

“You’re alive!”

Victorique kneeled down beside the Orphan. She didn’t mind that her apron dress was stained red with blood.

“Orphan,” she whispered. “You’re a spy for the Academy of Science, aren’t you?”

“That’s right.” Her voice was thin and faint.

“Someone from the Ministry of the Occult poisoned you. There was an enemy among the members of that masquerade ball. They learned that you found the memento box in the monastery and took it with you.”

“…”

The Orphan coughed up blood, convulsed, and became quiet. Victorique put her lips to her ear and whispered something. Even Kazuya could not hear what she said. But a look of deep relief spread across the Orphan’s face.

She smiled, and passed away.

Crouching on the other side, the Lumberjack shouted in horror. “She’s dead!” For a while, he just sat there, unable to stand up. “So she really was poisoned,” he mumbled shakily. “How horrible. What was that masquerade all about? We all ate the same raisins, but why was she the only one poisoned?”

Holding his stomach, he put his palm over the Orphan’s wide-open eyes, and gently closed them.

Even with blood on her face, her expression was as serene as the Virgin Mary, as if she was just sleeping.

“Who was she? Why did she do this?” Gideon murmured. “She’s about the same age as my sister. Damn it. I hope she’s alive…”

A screech came from outside.

It was the Empress.

When they rushed outside, the Empress was ruffling her hair like a mad woman, looking so frightened that it was hard to believe she was the same calm lady from before. She was pointing at the distance.

“What is it, Empress?”

“You can stop calling me that. My name is Britannia. The weird masquerade is over,” she said with bloodshot eyes, then pointed toward the mountains. “He’s getting away!”

“What?”

“I said he’s getting away. As soon as the train stopped, I saw him looking around suspiciously. He secretly took off just now.”

“Who?”

“The Dead!” Britannia exclaimed. “He’s escaping! Look!”

A long way down the track, a large man was running away into the distance. He glanced back once before sprinting again.

Kazuya and Gideon exchanged looks.

“The Dead?”

“He’s acting strange, all right.”

They looked back at the Orphan’s lifeless body on the floor. The next instant, they darted, and like two young hounds, began chasing the big, bearded man.

Britannia’s shrill laughter followed them from behind.

The morning sun was rising between the mountains. Birds sang, and the wind whistled softly.