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The Traveler Who Arrives in Spring Brings Death to the Academy – Part 02

Translator: Kell

When he woke up, Kazuya found himself lying on a bed in an unfamiliar room. It was small, poorly-lit, and surrounded by medicine cabinets. Lifting his body up, he looked out the window. When he saw the expansive academy grounds, he surmised that he was in the infirmary.

A lovely soprano voice came from across the hallway.

“Wait, Inspector! This is tyranny!”

Kazuya raised his head at the familiar voice. Soon after, footsteps pattered closer, and the owner of the voice opened the door to the infirmary.

A small head appeared.

Large round glasses over droopy brown eyes. Shoulder-length brown hair. It was Kazuya’s homeroom teacher, Ms. Cecile. Probably in her early twenties, she looked younger than her students. She gave the impression of an adorable puppy.

When she noticed that Kazuya was awake, the teacher smiled, and stepped inside the infirmary.

“Ah, you’re awake,” Ms. Cecile said. “Thank goodness. Ça va?”

“Y-Yeah…”

“I was worried because you were unusually late. When I called the dormitory, the dorm mother was mumbling something.”

Kazuya remembered the cheese and ham. He wondered if the dorm mother was reprimanded for serving breakfast without any sides, but then he remembered the headless corpse, and he turned pale as a sheet.

“Then I received a call that a strange body had been found on the village road, and you were lying nearby. So I asked the villagers to bring you here. What on earth happened?”

The teacher’s worried look left Kazuya flustered. As he opened his mouth to explain, there was a rattle, and the door to the infirmary opened.

Kazuya looked at the door.

And he froze.

A weird-looking, young man was standing there. Dressed in a well-tailored suit, he was tall and slim, with handsome, elegant features. Silver cufflinks gleamed on his wrists. A fop.

But there was a part of him that was just plain weird.

His head.

The man had glistening blonde hair, which for some reason, was pointed forward in the shape of a drill. Kazuya gaped at the golden hair. The man looked at Kazuya as he struck a pose like a ballet dancer, one hand on the wall and one leg stretched out behind him.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said.

“…What?”

Was I waiting for him? Who is he?

Ms. Cecile swallowed and shot the man a sharp glare.

“I am Inspector Grevil de Blois.”

“I see…”

“I’ll be interviewing you now.”

“Oh, okay,” Kazuya agreed.

Inspector Blois snapped his fingers. Footsteps pattered down the corridor, and two young men wearing rabbit-skin hunting caps appeared. Unlike the inspector, the young men had the friendly faces of proletariats, and were dressed in cotton waistcoats and sturdy boots, the kind of clothes you’d see down at the village. They appeared to be Inspector Blois’ subordinates.

As the two pulled Kazuya out of the infirmary, he noticed something… odd.

The young subordinates were holding hands, for some reason.

Kazuya looked away.

And then looked again.

They were holding hands.

Kazuya gave them a weird stare.

“We’re childhood friends,” one said.

“Hahaha!”

Both men smiled broadly. Kazuya had no idea how to react.

Inspector Blois and his two odd subordinates took Kazuya to a room in the school building that was being used as a reference room.

It was a dim, creepy room. There was a light-brown globe, a huge wooden carving of some kind, seemingly from India, and a pile of bizarre medieval weapons, stored here because they didn’t know what to do with them.

The lamps burned dimly, fizzling.

Inspector Blois sat Kazuya down in a creaky, old wooden chair, and seated himself on a sturdy-looking, rectangle desk. He picked up the globe and toyed with it.

“Kazuya Kujou. Age: fifteen. Born in 1909. Excellent grades. No friends.”

The inspector began uttering information about Kazuya, who hung his head low upon hearing the last part.

Back in his country, he had friends at the military academy he attended, and there were also boys in his neighborhood whom he had known since childhood. But after coming to Sauville, Kazuya could not fit in with the children of nobility; they seemed to not want anything to do with oriental people.

Inspector burst out laughing. “Ah, juvenile crime. I can’t wrap my head around it. I don’t like the idea of sending young, promising people to the gallows, but a crime is a crime.”

“…What?” Kazuya came back to his senses.

A knot formed in his gut. He glanced toward the door and saw the inspector’s subordinates standing there, feet planted firmly, as though preventing any attempts of escaping.

Wait a minute…

Despite his disturbing words, the inspector was staring at Kazuya with a bright smile. He then, for some reason, raised one leg and pointed at the boy. He was shaking as he tried to maintain his pose.

“Kujou, you’re the culprit!”

Kazuya was dumbfounded. “You’re wrong!” he denied vehemently. “I was just passing by. You can’t just decide I’m the culprit like that. I object. Firmly and unequivocally. I demand a thorough investigation and an accurate reasoning. I…”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Inspector Blois waved his forefinger.

“…”

His attitude got on Kazuya’s nerves. He regarded the man’s finger irritably.

“I am not interested in how your mind works, Kujou,” the inspector said. “I am not interested in why a man would commit murder at a foreign school, causing a diplomatic issue.”

“D-Diplomatic issue…?”

“The victim was a government official on vacation.”

“N-No way…”

Kazuya was speechless, his face pale.

His life flashed before his eyes.

The scenery from his country, the faces of his gentle mother and strict father, the vivid sun rising above the port city where he took the ship to Sauville.

“Kujou, you’re the only one who could’ve done it.”

“That can’t be! How can you be so sure?”

Inspector Blois laughed. He raised a leg to strike another pose, when a knock came at the door.

The inspector and his two subordinates ignored it.

Another knock.

They ignored it still. The door opened. Behind the two subordinates blocking the way, Kazuya saw Ms. Cecile’s cute little face. With a smile on her face, she passed under the men’s joined hands and approached Kazuya, who was on the verge of tears.

“Here you go,” she said, presenting two sheets of paper.

Kazuya took them. They were handouts for class, used in today’s morning session. The first sheet had Kazuya’s name on it, while the other one…

…bore the name of a different boy.

Victorique.

Ms. Cecile smiled assertively. Kazuya gave her a questioning look.

“It’s the handout for class this morning,” the teacher said. “One is for you, and the other for a student who was also absent.”

“Okay…”

The name Victorique rang a bell. There was always an empty seat by the window in the classroom. In his six months here in the academy, Kazuya had never seen the student who occupied that seat attend classes.

He only knew their name. Victorique.

He’d always wondered why they never showed up to class.

“Go to your classroom now,” Ms. Cecile said, still wearing the same smile. “But before you head back, I need you to deliver the handout to Victorique. Can you do that for me?”

“Sure…” Kazuya agreed.

“You’re interfering with our investigation!” Inspector Blois snapped.

“With all due respect, Inspector.” Ms. Cecile turned, determined to stand her ground.

Overpowered by her indomitable spirit, the inspector shut his mouth.

“If you want to arrest him, bring a warrant first,” she added. “This is abuse of police authority. On behalf of the academy, I protest.”

The inspector narrowed his eyes, then nodded slowly. “Under the circumstances, if I apply for a warrant today, I should get it tomorrow. We’ll be back then. I understand your desire to protect your precious students, but please keep in mind many have died because of heroism throughout history.”

Ms. Cecile pulled Kazuya out of the creepy room.

“Thank you so much, Teach,” Kazuya said.

“No problem. Don’t forget this.” As they walked down the corridor, Ms. Cecile pushed a handout to Kazuya. “To the library.”

“Th-The library?”

“Yes.” Ms. Cecile nodded.

Apparently the underachiever and slacker Victorique was in the library for some reason. Why was she there instead of the classroom?

The empty seat by the window flashed through his mind. His classmates, staying away from it in fear.

Kazuya wondered what it was all about. He found it odd that he had not once seen the face of this Victorique.

“Top floor of the library tower,” Ms. Cecile said with a smile. “That child likes heights.”

“I-I see…” Kazuya hung his head.

He was a little bit hurt, feeling betrayed by his homeroom teacher. She never commended him, an honor student who always attended classes, prepared and reviewed for lessons, studied French, the official language of this country, as well as Latin for reading and understanding literature, yet she smiled as she talked about a truant.

“We have a saying in my country about smokes and high places,” Kazuya said. He was unusually upset. Due in part, perhaps, to the weird inspector striking terror in him.

“Oh, you. Couldn’t be more wrong.” Not taking the bait, Ms. Cecile chuckled. And then, she added, “That child is a genius.”