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The White Queen Reigns – Part 06

“Vic…”

Midway through shouting her name, Grevil noticed another person leaning against a massive globe, grinning beside her. He gasped in surprise.

Unaware that she was talking to Victorique, a child born from a Gray Wolf and Marquis de Blois, a prominent figure in the Ministry of the Occult—the prodigious intellect hidden within Sauville’s secret armory, destined to shape the fate of the world—Mrs. Signore, wife of the kingdom’s police commissioner, chuckled as she remarked, “Yeah. It’s quite the mystery.”

While Victorique seemed like a lovely rose in full bloom, Jacqueline wore a dress reminiscent of white curtains, with a cardboard crown atop her head. As always, her brown eyes twinkled with playful delight.

When Victorique lifted her head and noticed him, she wrinkled her small nose in displeasure. Then, feigning ignorance, she buried her face in the book spread out on the floor.

A second later, Jacqueline turned to him. “Oh, Grevil,” she said with a smile.

Inspector Blois, taken aback by the unexpected pairing, attempted to conceal his flustered state.

“What are you doing?” he growled. “You’re a judge. You shouldn’t be loafing around here.”

“Oh, you’re right! I almost forgot.” Jacqueline turned to Victorique. “See you later, young lady,” she said with a smile before walking away.

Victorique grunted in response.

“What were you talking about with this… child, anyway?” the inspector asked.

“Well, you see, watching her reminded me of little Q.”

“Q? Ah!” Inspector Blois’s face instantly contorted.

“I was talking to her about that peculiar incident. You remember, right? When the veterinarian was murdered and I was suspected of being the culprit. I was having such a hard time, when suddenly the wife turned herself in.”

“Oh, ah?!” Inspector Blois squealed, nodding repeatedly for some reason. “I-Is that what happened?”

“Yes. I’m still wondering how it got resolved out of nowhere. I was discussing it with the young lady. Well then, see you later. I must be on my way.”

“Hurry,” Victorique said. “Leave this room immediately and go far, far away, without looking back. Move, Jacqueline! Shoo!”

“What’s with that attitude? You’re one odd little lady. Until we meet again!”

“Indeed,” Victorique groaned.

After pushing Jacqueline outside, Inspector Blois slammed the door shut and leaned against it awkwardly; the square box around his waist restricted movement. Then, he glared at his sister sitting on the floor.

Victorique was ignoring him.

Inspector Blois kept glaring.

His sister continued ignoring him.

Time ticked by through the silence.

Eventually, with caution and extreme displeasure in his voice, the brother spoke, “You little… Don’t tell me…”

“Why would I tell her anything?” the sister growled.

“I-I see…”

“I don’t have a clear and logical motive to get involved in your and Jacqueline’s affairs, so I kept quiet.” She exhaled sharply. “I must say, though.”

Victorique slowly raised her head. Across her petite yet astonishingly perfect and intimidating features, a dark light spread, chilling and sharp like some demonic weapon, mocking all of creation. It was as if night reigned all over the world.

Looking up at her brother, Victorique spoke with a low and malicious tone, “What a thickheaded woman. She’s a prime example of how good intentions combined with obliviousness pave the road to hell.”

“But that’s also Jacqueline’s charm,” Inspector Blois responded instantly.

For once, Victorique struggled to say anything back, and the dark light upon her beautiful face grew in intensity.

Inspector Blois, not particularly angry, stroked the white square box around his waist.

“You will never understand what it means to love someone.”

“That’s not true…”

“It is!”

Victorique’s cherry lips were quivering, but the inspector went on, unaware.

“This greatest intellect in Europe that you’re so proud of is like an incredibly complex machine that is yet to exist in this world. It’s an inorganic, white, square box capable of instantaneously deducing logical answers no matter the input. It will undoubtedly be an effective tool against the impending second storm. However…”

“Don’t say it.”

“A machine has no heart. I know that better than anyone in this world. Inside you, a mechanical doll, not a single drop of warm blood flows. After all…”

“Guh…”

“I knew you well long before your transfer to the academy, when you were confined to the Blois family tower as a young wolf.”

When he finished speaking, Inspector Blois turned his back to Victorique, bent down, and opened the door, his hand wrestling with the obstructive box around his waist.

He stepped out into the hallway, slammed the door shut, and walked away.

After a couple of steps, a Gray Wolf’s howl, so loud as to seem impossible to come from within her small stature, trailed icily behind.

Inspector Blois quickened his pace, fear creeping onto his face.

Victorique’s mournful howl, filled with deep and dark anger, reverberated in the empty corridor.

That voice gradually unearthed memories from Inspector Blois’ past.

The howl of a Gray Wolf…

It was smaller back then, young and ferocious, not even ten. During that time, she was confined in the gray tower looming in the backyard of the Blois family, barely engaging in conversation with others.

Inspector Blois hung his head and let out a quiet sigh.

---

Just a few years since the end of the Great War that left significant scars on Europe.

Grevil, still in his adolescence, had just returned from boarding school to his family’s manor. His slim physique, long blond hair, and his attractive features often got him mistaken for a young woman from a distance.

He was well aware of the existence of his half-sister, imprisoned in the gray tower that stood in the backyard. However, the terrifying howls that echoed every night and the sight of the maids trembling in fear as they carried food, books, and clothing up to the tower, made him decide to stay away from such an eerie being.

Yet, on one particular night…

Grevil found himself ascending the stone steps of the tower, shivering.

Christmas was just around the corner then, too. Snow fell relentlessly, painting the winter night forest in shades of gray. He had heard from the maids that the Gray Wolf’s howls grew more frequent during this season, as if calling for its lost mother. Night after night, it cried out until its voice turned hoarse.

With every step he took, the haunting howls sounded in his ears. But Grevil continued to climb.

Soon after, he reached the topmost floor, a small, cold room covered in stone. The walls were filled entirely with light brown books. He initially assumed that they were there for insulation, but that didn’t seem to be the case. The open books scattered across the floor indicated that the Gray Wolf herself was reading them.

She was in a corner of the room—his half-sister—knees and palms on the cold floor, raising her pale throat to howl forlornly at the moon visible through the small window.

A small face of extraordinary beauty. Sharp canines peeking through parted lips. Emerald eyes, lifeless and gleaming like jewels. Her tears, cold and ephemeral like the Milky Way plastered in the night sky, that streamed endlessly with each howl.

Seeing his half-sister’s bizarre appearance for the first time, Grevil felt a faint mixture of awe and instinctive repulsion.

At that moment, his howling sister abruptly turned her gaze towards him.

He sensed a faint hostility emanating from her, but what quietly enveloped her tiny and emaciated frame was an innate indifference. It seemed to have taken hold of the young Gray Wolf entirely, like some pathogen that had nestled within her since birth.

“I… I have a favor to ask.”

“…What is it?”

Her voice was husky and deep, as if resonating from the bowels of the earth.

Was this the voice of a child? Had she cried so much that her voice had grown raspy? Or was this husky voice, reminiscent of an elderly woman, the very essence of his sister Victorique?

Grevil had heard tales from the maids about his sister’s extraordinary intellect. Despite being young and confined in the tower, she seemed to grasp almost everything that happened in the outside world. The maids’ every single move, as they came and went to perform their duties, provided countless, subtle clues to the Gray Wolf’s astute mind. Her insight surpassed human limits; it almost seemed like the power of the devil. They believed that the Gray Wolf had invisible eyes all over the castle, observing everything they did.

“I need you to help someone. She’s a childhood friend of mine.”

“…Your reason?”

“B-Because I love her.”

Grevil flushed. His golden hair swayed as he fidgeted, his gestures almost feminine.

His sister remained silent for quite some time, so he stole a glance at her.

Her expression, resembling that of a doll, betrayed no trace of human warmth. After a prolonged silence, young Victorique slightly twisted her flawless lips while maintaining a completely impassive expression.

“Love?”

“Yeah.”

Grevil drew his chin back, casting an uneasy gaze down upon Victorique, who was crouched on the floor, staring at him.

She spoke in a mature tone that belied her small frame. Moreover, her voice bore the timbre of an elderly woman.

His gaze wandered around the small room. An alarming pile of books towered nearby. Grevil, who despised studying and preferred pleasure, had never managed to finish a single book during his time at school. Yet, this extraordinary child seemed to effortlessly consume their contents.

The Gray Wolf, the secret, most powerful weapon of Europe, demanded books, the summation of wisdom from all times and places.

However, the meaning behind the word uttered by her troubled half-brother, “love,” appeared immensely perplexing and difficult for the young Gray Wolf to comprehend, as evidenced by her terribly vacant expression reminiscent of an empty hollow amidst a winter forest.

The realization caused an instinctive repugnance to surge from within Grevil, like magma seething forth. Almost simultaneously, as if sensing the invisible currents, a profound sense of contempt rose from beyond Victorique’ emotionless and indifferent facade, billowing into the night sky like thick gray smoke.

This marked the siblings’ first unforgettable and bitter encounter.

---

Snow was falling that night too.

It was a cold evening, drawing near Christmas. During this season, the little Gray Wolf often howled.

Snowflakes descended from the heavens.

Walking down the hallway, Inspector Blois let out a displeased sigh. “That little…” he groaned softly. “She better not have told Jacqueline anything. Despite her indifference toward everything, she can be overly enthusiastic when it comes to bullying others. I mustn’t let my guard down! That brat is a prime example of how boredom combined with disdain results into full-blown torment.”

Clicking his tongue, he quickened his pace even more. Joyous shouts from students rolled in from the rooms and outside the school building.

Inspector Blois strode down the corridor, grumpily fixing his drill-shaped hair. He came to a slow stop and glanced back.

“She was crying,” he muttered, then shook his head. “No. I know her well. She doesn’t understand. Gray Wolves are very smart, but they don’t have a heart.”

He shook his head several times, before resuming his stride.

“My sister,” he mumbled. “Is she really…”

Laughter of students echoed from somewhere.