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The White Queen Reigns – Part 01

But Kay sat quite still, benumbed and cold. Then little Gerda shed burning tears; and they fell on his bosom, they penetrated to his heart, they thawed the lumps of ice, and consumed the splinters of the looking-glass.

Hans Christian Andersen, The Snow Queen

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For centuries, the atmosphere within Saint Marguerite Academy had remained unchanged, shrouded in a profound stillness that gave the illusion of time standing still.

One winter morning…

The biting cold of Europe settled upon the French-style garden, the sprawling, U-shaped school building, and the library tower, engulfing them in an eerie silence that echoed the end of the world.

St. Marguerite Academy was now enveloped in a pristine blanket of white snow.

It was the beginning of an exceptionally frigid day, where no signs of life could be observed.

Nestled in a secluded corner of the academy grounds lay a labyrinthine flower bed, intricate and enigmatic in its design. During spring and summer, this magnificent flower bed would burst forth with a dazzling array of vibrant colors—red, pink, orange. But came winter, the flowers wilted, thin, black twigs resembling skeletal remains swaying ominously in the wind.

Deep within this flower bed, at the end of a winding path, concealed from the majority of the academy’s students, stood a small house that bore a striking resemblance to a candy cottage. Even amidst the withered surroundings of winter, it maintained its vibrant hues.

Within the charmingly designed French window, something golden swayed gently…

“Hmm.”

Inside a small room adorned with endearing décor, Victorique sat alone at an emerald-colored, cabriole-legged table, swinging her legs idly back and forth in her matching chair.

A silver tea set sat on the wooden cabinet adorned with extravagant ornaments, and a sparkling glass vase held an assortment of flower-shaped lollipops of various colors.

Allowing her golden hair, flowing like an unfurled silk turban, to cascade towards the floor, Victorique emitted a soft groan.

Her green eyes appeared hazy, perhaps because she had just woken up. Unlike her usual icy, emotionless gaze that seemed to penetrate even the thickest of walls, this morning her eyes possessed a gentler quality, accompanied by more frequent blinks… or so it seemed…

Dressed in a frilly white cotton nightgown, Victorique was lost in thought, her pink slippers adorned with tiny wings about to slip off at any moment.

Before her was a thick square board with a black and white grid. Propped up by delicate, curved legs, it possessed an imposing appearance, reminiscent of the geocentric era’s depiction of lands adrift in a boundless sea.

Upon the board rested miniature figurines, modeled after soldiers, knights, rooks, and cloaked figures resembling bishops, each no larger than an adult’s thumb. The pieces were divided into two factions—black and white—each exhibiting subtle design differences. This chessboard was undoubtedly an exquisite antique, a masterpiece crafted by an extraordinary artisan.

Wearing a blank expression, Victorique extended her pudgy hands and moved one of the chess pieces forward.

And…

“Checkmate!”

As soon as the words left her lips, the pieces quivered, as though the land floating on the sea trembled.

“Chess truly is a complex waste of intellect,” Victorique mumbled to herself. “I conjecture that it was created by someone like me—someone bored out of their minds. Now, then…”

The queen appeared to shiver.

Victorique let out a momentary sigh, disappointment evident in her slumped shoulders, but she swiftly regained her icy expression. Softly she lifted a cup of steaming tea to her lips, taking a sip. Then, she bit into a tulip-shaped lollipop.

She casually tilted the chessboard, sending several pieces tumbling onto the table.

One side of her cheek was puffed up, filled with the candy. Savoring the lollipop, she abruptly raised her head, as if alerted to something.

She listened intently. From the direction of the academy building came the faint clamor of students. Animated, high-pitched voices, people calling each other, had broken the complete silence that enveloped the surroundings only moments ago.

Victorique pondered for a while, puzzled, before eventually nodding in comprehension.

“Ah,” she murmured. “Today is that day. I see. No wonder everybody is in such high spirits. Hmm… In that case, Kujou would not be visiting for a while.”

With an unconcerned nod, she paused momentarily. Then, she carefully gathered the fallen pieces from the table and carefully placed them back onto the chessboard.

“It is time for another battle, my little actors,” she announced regally towards the pieces.

And so, Victorique proceeded to once again indulge her intellect.

The vibrant tea in the silver vessel exuded a steaming hot vapor. Beyond the window, pure white snow had been falling for some time. Flames crackled in the miniature fireplace.

A quiet, yet somehow different day, was about to begin.

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Snow as white as cotton candy had blanketed the entire landscape.

Saint Marguerite Academy, one winter morning.

The magnificent French-style garden surrounding the sprawling, U-shaped school building, the sculpture of a goddess standing in the middle of a fountain, the meticulously trimmed hedges, taking the form of exotic creatures, serving as a barrier between the academy grounds and the outside world, were lightly dusted with white snow, giving the illusion of being on top of a colossal Christmas cake topped with whipped cream.

Even the breaths taken that morning came out as white frost.

On this day, with the long-awaited Christmas vacation just around the corner, St. Marguerite Academy hummed with excitement early in the morning. Within the boys’ dormitory, male students, unusually awake at this hour, eagerly washed their faces and brushed their teeth.

Meanwhile, the girls’ dormitory was even more raucous.

“Where’s my crown?” “I can’t find my spear!” “I spilled juice on my dress… waaaah!”

The clamor and voices rang out so loudly that the brick building itself trembled.

It was the beginning of an eventful winter day.

A black and elegant carriage burst through the grand gates of St. Marguerite Academy. The elderly gardener, silently shoveling snow, jumped and leaped aside. His face flushed with anger, he swiftly turned around, but when a woman’s face appeared from the carriage window, offering an apology, his expression immediately softened, and he gave an understanding nod.

“You can stop here,” came a voice from inside the carriage.

The vehicle came to a sudden halt, right in front of the girls’ dormitory, just before the school building. The heavy doors swung open, revealing the tip of a pair of ordinary, well-worn boots.

A woman with light brown hair pulled back into a slapdash bun jumped out, donning a lady’s hat. Though her hat, coat, and boots were well-maintained, they were all of simple design.

A closer look revealed refined features that put her in the category of beauties. Her face illuminated by a radiant smile, she exclaimed, “Oh, so this is St. Marguerite Academy!”

“Madam, your parasol! And your brooch, necklace, ring, jeweled hair ornament…”

A young maid alighted from the carriage, clutching an assortment of accessories. Unlike the lady, she exuded a fashionable air, her hair styled in intricate, spiraling curls.

“I don’t want them,” the lady declared. “Those things would only make it difficult to walk. I like my current getup.”

“You may prefer it, but I don’t. Please consider dressing more elegantly…”

The elderly coach man craned his neck from the driver’s seat. “You’re wasting your time, Marion,” he said with a laugh.

The maid turned around, pouting.

“Madam has possessed the spirit of a young boy since childhood. Even as an adult, she won’t adorn herself with brooches or such trinkets.”

“Th-That’s not true,” the maid protested. “Madam is an important noblewoman. Therefore, she must present herself appropriately in public… Ah, wait. My lady, please stop! Don’t run on the snow! Are you a child?!”

Leaving the maid behind, the lady lifted the hem of her dress with both hands and sprinted down the snowy path, a beaming smile on her face.

“Oh, Mrs. Signore! We’ve been waiting for you.”

Two middle-aged gentlemen called out to her, causing her to come to a sudden halt.

She grimaced, adopting a stern demeanor. She then shook her head a couple of times and raised her chin deliberately.

A trace of dignity descended gracefully from the heavens, giving her the aura befitting of the police commissioner’s wife.