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The Spiral Labyrinth and the Memento Box – Part 02

Chapter 6: The Spiral Labyrinth and the Memento Box

Rain continued to fall outside the monastery. In the distance, the sound of waves lapping against the sluice gate could be heard, mixing with the patter of raindrops.

Kazuya and Victorique were sitting on a suitcase in the corner of the room. The other guests were either sitting still or screaming among themselves. Kazuya was eagerly regaling Victorique with stories about his train ride and the conversation he had with the friar in the corridor.

“Iago said he doesn’t think any of the things shown in tonight’s party involved the supernatural,” he said. “They can’t be certified as miracles. He also heard the late Mr. Simon say that he came here to find a memento box.”

Victorique nodded absently. The smoke from earlier still seemed to be affecting her; she was as lethargic as a kitten, curled up in a tiny ball with her skinny legs, clad in silver boots, pulled up to her chest.

Kazuya peered into Victorique’s face. “What do you think he meant by a memento box?”

“Who knows?” Victorique shook her head. Her golden hair swung smoothly from side to side like fine silk.

She puffed up her puffy cheeks even more, ruining her majestic aura.

“Stop asking me about everything,” Victorique huffed.

“Oh, sorry. So you have no idea, huh? There are things that even you don’t know. I see.”

Victorique frowned in annoyance. “How rude,” she said, raising her husky voice. “It’s not that I don’t know. I just haven’t gathered all the fragments of chaos yet. But…”

“My brother used to tell me not to make excuses. You look like the kind of kid my brother would scold. But what?”

“You ticked me off, so I’m not telling you now.”

“Cheapskate.”

“Hmph?!”

Victorique turned the other way. She then sat down and remained still. Moments later, however, she gave in to Kazuya’s stare.

“You’re one persistent fellow.”

“What? I was just looking.”

“The Wellspring of Wisdom tells me that this case involves a past that we are unaware of, a conflict between closely-related people. It says to be careful. There is something I must do first before solving the mystery.”

“What’s that?”

Victorique’s quiet, expressionless, mysterious eyes blinked. She seemed offended.

She pointed at Kazuya’s face with her small, pudgy forefinger. “I will bring you back safe and sound. Without getting caught up in this mess.”

“…”

“I…” Victorique lowered her gaze. Her green eyes, like an unknown jewel yet to be named, sparkled. “I didn’t cry while in this monastery. I was brought here as bait to lure someone.”

“You mentioned that earlier. So did your brother. Lure who, exactly?”

“It should be obvious.” Her voice took on a raspy sound. “Cordelia Gallo, my mother.”

A cold wind blew through the room, rustling Kazuya’s jet-black hair. Victorique’s golden hair billowed ominously, coiling itself around Kazuya’s small, thin body, swirling, before reluctantly settling back down on the suitcase. Her frilly skirt stirred.

Victorique looked like she was about to cry, tears pooling in the corner of her eyes. She seemed like a little girl who had been scolded by her mother.

“I believe there is some kind of mystery surrounding Cordelia Gallo left here in the monastery,” she continued. “Whether it’s related to the memento box, I don’t know. There’s not enough fragments for reconstruction. Foreboding images of the past keep flashing in my mind. It could just be that smoke causing hallucinations, though.”

“I see… Are you okay? My head kinda hurts too, now that you mention it. I might have inhaled some of the smoke.”

“Everyone here did.” Her tone turned dark. “I think one of the missing fragments… is my mother.”

“What do you mean?”

Victorique’s voice dropped to just above a whisper. “I, the pup, was suddenly transported to summon my mother, Cordelia Gallo. Marquis de Blois thought that if I cried out, the mother wolf would come. But I did not cry. For days and days, I just stayed crouched in the corner of the room in silence. My mother never came.”

Kazuya listened quietly.

It was very rare for Victorique to talk about her family. Her soft, sorrowful voice reminded him of his own family that he had left behind. His father, a strict military man. His respectable eldest brother who taught him to be a man who would live and lay down his life for his country, not for himself. He remembered how his words made the little Kazuya feel uneasy.

Victorique continued on, stammering. The strange white smoke that she had inhaled might have cast a spell on the stubborn, lonely girl that made her just a little more honest. A tiny, chance magic that would be dispelled as night wore on.

“I climbed onto the suitcase earlier because I thought I saw the red mane of my mother’s partner, the half-human, half Gray Wolf, Brian Roscoe.”

“I might have seen him too. I thought I even heard his voice. Did he sneak in here?”

“I have no idea. If he was here, we don’t know why. He was the one responsible for the Virgin Mary incident ten years ago, though, when the monastery was being used by the Academy of Science. But what’s he doing here now?”

“Maybe he’s here as your mother’s proxy.”

“Who knows?” Victorique smiled thinly. “But my mother never came. Because I did not howl. Because I bit my lip and endured the loneliness. I couldn’t risk the life of such an irreplaceable woman. My mother did not come because I did not call her.”

“Victorique…”

“The truth is, I have a feeling that I will never see my mother again.” Despite her words, Victorique spoke with a calm countenance. Her face remained as cold and expressionless as always. “When I was only five years old, I howled every night in solitude, tedium, and weariness atop the tower of the de Blois family. One night my mother climbed up to the tower’s window and called to me. She told me that if I called her, she would come. She said she loved me. That was the first time I heard the word love. I didn’t know what it meant, and from the next day I went through piles of books, searching for the meaning of the word. I read philosophy books written in German and religious books written in Latin. I wandered through the forests of science and read poetry. I dove into the seas of various theories. Finally, I deduced that the word meant to cherish what is irreplaceable and not to lose it. My mother said the word to me. Only her, and no one else.”

Victorique’s husky voice was tinged with quiet sorrow.

“That cold hand that touched my cheek through the bars. No one had ever touched me. No one had ever shown me love and affection.”

Kazuya listened in silence.

“But I have a feeling that I will never see my mother again.”

“Why’s that? She promised to come to you if you called for her.”

“Because I lost it.” Her cheeks puffed, and tears formed in her eyes. “My mother gave me a gold coin pendant back then. The coin was something she brought with her when she was banished from the Nameless Village. It had a string attached to it. She said that as long as I had it, we would never be apart.”

Kazuya closed his eyes. He recalled how Victorique’s sparkling, golden pendant fell toward the bottom of the valley as they fled the village together. A small gold coin hidden within layers and layers of frills.

Right. Victorique saved my life back then. She didn’t care about her precious pendant.

He remembered the sad look on her face, the tears in her eyes, as she insisted that it didn’t hurt. How he felt strangely sad. Kazuya bit his lip hard.

“So I decided to never howl,” she went on. “Days went by. I lost all sense of time, of space, of anything. I transformed into a small monster wrapped in a black robe. Then I heard a voice calling to me from outside, from the brightness. Victorique. I heard someone calling my name.”

“…”

“That voice slowly made me human again. A soft one. One that knows the meaning of love.”

“…”

“It was your voice, Kujou. My mother did not come, but you did. Like always.”

“And how did you thank me? By kicking and dissing me. Just downright mean.”

“Don’t sweat the small stuff.”

“Yeah.” Kazuya’s reply was quick.

Victorique shot him a puzzled glance.

“I don’t really mind,” he added in a barely audible whisper. “I got to see you again. Someone irreplaceable to me.”

Victorique grunted.

“That’s right,” Kazuya said.

They fell silent.

Victorique rested her small head on Kazuya’s shoulder. It smelled like flowers. Victorique’s scent, Kazuya thought.

The screams and cries faded, and the room became quiet. Victorique was sleeping softly. Kazuya smiled a little.

---

After placing the sleeping Victorique on the suitcase, Kazuya went out into the corridor. Nuns were distributing water and bread to the guests. After securing Victorique’s share, he headed back to the room, when he came upon the old man he was with on the train, wandering aimlessly down the corridor.

“Is something wrong?” Kazuya asked.

The old man’s bloodshot eyes widened. “I don’t see my daughter.”

“Oh, you haven’t found her yet? You can try asking the other nuns.”

“They’re not telling me anything. It’s almost like they were issued a gag order. I’ve been checking each and every one of their faces, but I can’t seem to find her.”

The old man cradled his head in his arms. He frowned, pinching the bridge of his nose as though he was having a headache.

“After seeing so many faces of women her age, I couldn’t remember what she looked like anymore.”

“S-Seriously? One look and you should be able to tell. And she would recognize you too.”

“Did I ever have a daughter?”

“What…?”

The old man stared at Kazuya with his glassy, green eyes. There was a hint of madness in them. Then he strode off aimlessly, leaving a speechless Kazuya behind.

A cold wind blew through the corridor. Kazuya watched the old man go, bewildered.

---

When Kazuya returned to the room, he found the black-clad nuns distributing water and bread inside. Carmilla was among them. She handed water and bread to Iago, who was sitting in the corner. They exchanged a few words.

A cold breeze streamed in through the open door. Iago was sitting facing the door. Carmilla moved away, and Iago took a sip of water.

Kazuya went back to Victorique’s spot. He was thinking of telling her about the old man acting weird, when a large man in black walked past him. Or at least he thought. Just as he was about to look over his shoulder, the lamps in the room flickered, and some went out. It was dim all of a sudden.

Then, there was a curious moan.

Everyone, Kazuya and Victorique included, turned to the direction of the voice. Friar Iago dropped his glass and scratched his throat desperately.

Suddenly, a large man in black, the same one who just passed Kazuya, stood over the friar’s body. It was too dark to see clearly, but under the black robe, Kazuya glimpsed a dark, bizarre face resembling a fly’s head. Beelzebub’s Skull’s legendary entity, the Demon of Black Death.

Carmilla screamed.

Iago scratched his throat, his eyes bulging.

He tried to say something, but Carmilla’s shrill screams drowned it out.

Iago collapsed on the floor. The large man in black with the head of a fly had disappeared.

Women screamed. There was a small sound of a door closing across the corridor outside.

Kazuya came to his senses and rushed to Iago.

“Mr. Iago?”

He raised the friar’s heavy body up. Iago’s eyes were wide open, and he was foaming at the mouth.

“He’s dead,” Kazuya muttered.

Screams rose from the guests.