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The Traveler Who Arrives in Spring Brings Death to the Academy – Part 03

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Translator: Kell

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Why did she call them a genius, while completely disregarding this boy from the orient with excellent grades? Who in the world was this truant?

Kazuya was walking along the school’s gravel path with these thoughts in mind.

Wearing a long face, he headed to the library to deliver the handout anyway. Such was his straight-laced nature. The campus of the academy was designed like a luxurious French-style garden, with fountains, flowerbeds, streams, and cozy, vast lawns between them. Kazuya was walking along the white gravel path between the lawns.

He arrived at a tower that stood quietly behind the school building.

St. Marguerite’s Grand Library.

Shaped in a polygonal tube, its walls were filled with huge bookshelves. At the center was a vast hall with a high ceiling adorned with majestic religious paintings. A narrow wooden staircase connected the bookshelves to each other like a gigantic maze.

Legend had it that in the early 17th century, the King, the founder of the academy, intentionally built the library like a labyrinth so that he could secretly enjoy the company of his mistress in the room at the top.

But now the building was silent, filled with the smell of dust, mold, and wisdom.

Kazuya looked up reverently. He spotted what seemed like a golden band hanging down from around the ceiling.

What is that?

Perplexed, he started climbing the labyrinthine stairs.

He moved from wall to wall. Little by little, he neared the ceiling. It was like walking on a tightrope. Trembling, he climbed the narrow staircase, careful not to look down.

He was getting tired. And angry. Angry that he was doing all this for a slacker. Before he knew it, he was almost at the hanging golden band.

A wisp of white smoke drifted to the ceiling.

Kazuya moved his feet cautiously.

And he found himself in a conservatory.

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For some reason, there was a lush greenhouse atop the library. Soft light shone through the skylight, and the greenery swayed in the breeze. Contrary to the legends about the king, the place was bright and empty.

A large porcelain doll was lying on the space between the conservatory and the stairs.

It was a wonderful doll, nearly life-size, about 140 centimeters tall. Her jet-black dress was full of ruffles, billowing out from her waist to the hem like an ominous little flower blooming at dusk. Her long, magnificent golden hair, like an untied velvet turban, cascaded down to the floor from beneath a white headdress adorned with a ribbon lace and roses.

Possessing cold, beautiful features, it was hard to tell whether it was a child or an adult.

The expensive doll, abandoned on the landing, was expressionless, smoking its pipe languidly.

A doll smoking a pipe?!

Suddenly the doll—no, the girl, opened her mouth.

“Being late wasn’t enough, and now you’re skipping classes? You’re free to do what you want, of course, but at least keep your distance. I don’t want to be disturbed.”

The girl slowly closed her mouth.

Hearing her voice, husky as an old woman’s, Kazuya swallowed. It didn’t match her appearance at all. Her body, wrapped in mesmerizing frills and laces, was so small and slim that it seemed as if it had only been years since she was born, but her voice sounded old, like she had already lived for decades.

The girl, whose features were so cold and perfect that she could easily be mistaken for a doll, silently puffed on her pipe, ignoring the gaping boy.

When he finally managed to pull himself together, Kazuya said, “A-Are you Victorique, by any chance?”

There was no reply.

Nervously, he added, “If you are, I brought a handout for you.”

The girl—Victorique—silently held out her hand.

Kazuya took a few steps closer and gave her the handout. His footsteps echoed surprisingly loud in the tranquil space, and he flinched. Feeling like an uncultured intruder in this quiet paradise, he blushed.

He quietly observed her as she took the handout and returned to smoking her pipe.

So the underachiever was a girl. And a really pretty one at that. I thought she was a doll at first. But she looks a little… no, very strange.

Suddenly the strange girl opened her small, cherry lips. “And who might you be?”

“What?” Kazuya gave a start. He blushed a bit. “My name is Kujou. I’m in the same class as you. Though I’ve never met you before.”

“You’re an oriental?”

The girl grinned for some reason. A spine-chilling change in her cold expression. Kazuya shuddered.

“I see,” she murmured amusingly in her husky voice. “So you’re the Springtime Reaper.”

“…What?” Kazuya blurted. It was an odd, unfamiliar word.

The girl smirked. “You didn’t know, did you? It’s one of those silly horror stories rampant in this musty, superstition-ridden school. A traveler arrives in the spring, bringing death to the academy. For some reason, the students here love horror stories. And you are perfect material. But no one dares get close to you because of fear.”

Kazuya stood there speechless. It felt like a hole just opened in his heart.

Images flashed through his mind: himself alone in the classroom, children of nobility talking secretly in the distance, the boy sitting nearby who ran away when he spoke to him.

In his six months studying abroad, he always wondered why he couldn’t get close to anyone. He never realized that it was because of such superstitions.

“That can’t be right,” he protested, irked. “I arrived six months ago. In fall. So that’s just weird.”

The girl sneered. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I doubt the students care about the details. A quiet, black-haired, oriental guy fits the image of the Grim Reaper.”

The girl did not even spare so much as a glance at Kazuya as he stood there blankly. Her face remained cold.

Kazuya stared at her face for a while. She looked ruthless, indifferent, and cold. It was a face he’d seen countless times since he came to Sauville. The arrogant attitude characteristic of the nobility.

Kazuya felt both nervous and repulsed at her. His ill feelings toward the aristocratic society that caused him so much hardship boiled within him.

He turned and started down the labyrinthine stairs.

After taking a few steps, a thought came to him.

He turned back around. “Uh… Victorique,” he called softly.

“What is it?” She sounded annoyed.

“How did you know I was late?”

The girl smirked. “Elementary. The Wellspring of Wisdom told me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Allow me to explain,” Victorique raised her husky, smug voice. “I’m guessing you’re a methodical, overly-serious, dull man.”

“G-Get off my case!”

“But what happened to your necktie? Instead of being tied around your neck, it’s in your pocket. I caught a glimpse of it. So I deduced that you probably left the dorm in a hurry.”

Kazuya’s hand went to his neck. She was right. He wasn’t wearing his tie today. He had no time to tie it properly, so he shoved it into his pocket.

“And your smell,” she added.

“What? Do I smell?”

“Yes. The savory smell of bread. Why would you be carrying around bread when it’s too early for lunch? Check your pocket.”

Kazuya put his hand in his other pocket. It contained a sandwich that the dorm mother shoved in when he left the dormitory. Though it had been squashed flat, it looked quite tasty nonetheless.

“The breakfast you were supposed to eat is inside. Hence, I can deduce that you were late. That’s all. Did you follow?”

Victorique yawned, seemingly bored, and stretched in the manner of kittens. Her small body extended surprisingly long. Small tears formed at the corners of her eyes. She then returned to smoking her pipe languidly.

But when she noticed Kazuya watching her curiously, like she was some sort of unfamiliar creature, she shrugged and reluctantly spoke.

“It’s too much trouble, but fine, I’ll explain it to you.”

“Okay.”

“I sharpen my senses.”

“…What?”

“And my Wellspring of Wisdom toys with fragments I receive from the chaos in this world to stave off my boredom.”

“Chaos? Fragments? Wellspring of Wisdom?”

“Yes. Would it be easier to understand if I call it ‘reconstruction’?

“…Reconstruction?”

“Sometimes, when I feel like it, I will verbalize it so that even a simpleton like you can understand.”

“…”

“Ah, I can’t believe I spent all that effort to explain. I hope that was enough.”

Kazuya was silent, completely lost. He was a little peeved.

What’s with her attitude? I have no idea what she’s on about. I mean, sure, her deduction was correct. I hate to admit it, but this Wellspring of Wisdom thingy is quite brilliant. But still…

Kazuya was getting more and more frustrated. He could no longer stand the girl’s condescending attitude. Besides, she was a low achiever who didn’t even show up for class.

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