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The White Queen Reigns – Part 07

That night, in the small chamber atop the gray tower, Victorique swiftly unraveled the mystery.

The brother made a deal, and in exchange…

“The culprit who killed the veterinarian isn’t Jacqueline.”

“I-I know that!” Grevil leaned forward.

Victorique gazed up at her brother with narrowed eyes, not bothering to mask her disdain for him.

“I won’t claim to understand your emotions. Your statement is flawed. Blindly believing something without evidence is an incredibly illogical behavior.”

“But I know what kind of woman she is. I’ve known her since childhood.”

“You fool.”

“What did you call me? What a rude sister. I’ll get you for this!”

“The true culprit is the veterinarian’s wife.”

“…How do you know? You barely have anything to go on.”

“I gather the fragments of chaos and reconstruct them. Right here…”

Victorique pointed to her own little head—a head belonging to a child not yet ten, thin and pallid.

Grevil attempted a snicker, but the thought of this girl being the secret weapon of his father, the blood of a Gray Wolf flowing in her veins, froze the laugh in his throat.

“The wife is likely left-handed.”

“What do you mean?”

“Throughout history, the use of mirrored writing has been associated with dark rituals, and there exist rare individuals who possess a natural inclination to write in this mirrored style. Notable examples include the Renaissance polymath Leonardo da Vinci and more recently, the writer Lewis Carroll. Da Vinci’s notes, in particular, have been preserved as a collection of writings in mirrored text.”

“What kind of people are they?”

“Simple: they’re left-handed. Apparently, for some who are born left-handed, writing in reverse is easier. If that’s what their senses tell them, they should be free to write that way. The mirrored text that appeared on the wife’s right arm was presumably written by the culprit using her left hand, perhaps with a nail or a needle, and then rubbed salt on it. After a short delay, the writing would turn red.”

“I see…”

“No one else could have done it. If someone else had scraped their arm so vigorously to write words, they would have felt the pain. Also…”

“What?”

“The suspicious woman loitering around the clinic before the veterinarian was killed was most likely the wife. Witnesses said that she walked while swinging a branch held in her left hand. In other words, that woman is also left-handed. It’s highly probable that before she murdered her husband, the wife made preparations to incriminate someone else, perhaps one of the clinic’s customers. After committing the crime, she guessed that Jacqueline would be the prime suspect and engraved her name on her own arm at the funeral. By the way, is Jacqueline right-handed? Well, then there shouldn’t be any issue,” Victorique finished nonchalantly.

Her expression remained unchanged. Like a machine, she spoke with precision, and as soon as she closed her mouth, her eyes lost their gleam and turned cold, resembling those of a doll.

“But…” Grevil leaned against the pile of books by the wall, his face dark and pensive. “What about the letter ‘q’ that the vet wrote with his blood?”

“That is also mirrored text,” the doll spoke softly. But it seemed unnatural, as if some lifeless object was being powered by mechanical parts. “He likely intended to write the letter ‘p’.”

“Letter ‘p’?”

“The wife’s name is Paula. It starts with a ‘p’.”

“I see!” Grevil gasped. “But how?”

“There are actually two natural ways to write mirrored text. One is when a person is left-handed, as I mentioned earlier. The other applies to the veterinarian’s case.”

“What do you mean?”

“Listen carefully. Lean against that wall, extend your arm, and try to write on the wall behind you. You will see that the words will come out as mirrored. The murdered veterinarian was lying face-up on the floor. In that position, he extended his arm and wrote on the floor, intending to write ‘p,’ but it turned into a ‘q’.”

Victorique’s face, even smaller than it was currently, contorted slightly.

Come to think of it, was she trying to smile back then?

Grevil, a complex mixture of fear, dread, and disgust filling him, gazed down at his sister. Moments later, he swiftly turned on his heel and descended the stone steps of the gray tower without looking back.

The wind howled.

Soon, from atop the tower, the gray wolf’s eerie and somber howl echoed through the night, as it always did.

---

“Ah, good grief… I never thought I’d reminisce about what happened so long ago.”

Inspector Blois, having traversed the lengthy hallway, finally emerged from the school building through the back door. Bathed in the radiant morning sun, he let out a relieved sigh.

He looked back once, his head slightly tilted, deep in thought, perhaps concerned about his sister.

“Hmm…”

Then he resumed his leisurely pace.

He made his way towards the expansive garden, where students donning a variety of costumes had gathered around, laughing and jumping about. He spotted the head of an adult dressed as the white queen in the middle. She wore a joyful smile, engaging in animated conversations and amusing antics to elicit laughter from the students.

Inspector Blois observed it all with an impassive expression that rivaled that of his sister’s back at the tower.

After rapidly descending the tower, Grevil went straight to the veterinarian’s wife’s and told her he knew the truth. He warned her that unless she turned herself in, he would report her to the authorities. The next day, the wife surrendered.

Jacqueline’s name was cleared, and things returned to normal.

Except for Grevil’s head.

As he had promised his sister, Grevil groomed his hair to resemble a cannon. Although back then, it wasn’t rotating yet, but that’s a story for another day.

No matter who inquired or teased him, Grevil kept the reason to himself, displaying a touch of stubbornness.

After some time, Jacqueline grew even more out-of-reach for Grevil. With her name cleared, she married Police Commissioner Signore.

It wasn’t out of competitiveness—absolutely not—that later on, when Grevil received orders from his father to watch the Gray Wolf who was transferred to St. Marguerite Academy, he used his noble status to get a job as police inspector in the village. That’s how he found himself involved in various incidents that transpired in the village, but that’s, again, a story for another day.

All that happened a long time ago. It had become a distant memory, when he was young, foolish, and sharpened his emotions like a cannon, when he was unable to utter the words “I love you” due to embarrassment.

How much time had passed since then? Of course, he hardly dwelled on it now.

As Inspector Blois stepped into the brightness, Jacqueline spotted him.

“Oh, Grevil.” She approached him with a smile.

They locked eyes, wearing straight faces. As they glanced at the cardboard crown and box resembling a rook, they burst into innocent laughter, as if transported back to their childhood days.

“Try not to laugh so much,” Inspector Blois said. “I thought I might as well keep it on for a while.”

Jacqueline giggled. “Would it offend you if I said you pull it off quite well? Although, I can understand why you’d make a great rook.”

Inspector Blois displayed a mildly dissatisfied expression, his cheeks tinged with a hint of red.

“Is that so?”

“After all, you haven’t just solved the incidents in this village but also the enigmatic case at Jeantan. Your achievements are quite remarkable. I’ve seen your name in the newspapers countless times since spring.”

“I-I see.”

“My husband is also extremely grateful for your accomplishments. You’ve become a frequent subject of conversation at our dinner table. Every time, I feel proud and brag about how you’re my childhood friend.”

“Hmm…”

Inspector Blois wore a comical expression, a mix of laughter and tears.

The morning sun was dazzling. Students running across the slippery snow tumbled, bursting into laughter. The white snow blanketing the trees swayed in the breeze.

It was an unusually boisterous morning. Birds left tiny footprints in the snow. A gazebo in the distance stood adorned with piled-up flakes, resembling a miniature candy house topped with fresh cream. The air was crisp and invigorating.

“By the way, how is Commissioner Signore?” Inspector Blois asked. “I often see him in the gentlemen’s social column of the newspaper.”

“Oh, he’s doing quite well. Thank you. But he’s a busy man, jumping here and there every day, making me worry. Thanks to that, I find myself doing observations on his behalf like this.”

“Must be tough.”

“No, it’s actually quite enjoyable. I have so much fun that before I know it, I end up like this, wearing a cardboard crown.”

“It suits you well. Honestly, I don’t think it’s all that bad. Well then, it seems like you have no problems at present.”

“Fortunately.”

Jacqueline’s smile was as radiant as the morning sun.

Inspector Blois wore an expression of relief, but in the next moment, he inexplicably grew agitated and fell into a peculiar silence.

“What’s the matter?” Jacqueline asked.

“Oh… um…” He shook his head. “Has Commissioner Signore ever mentioned anything to you? Something along the lines of ‘Stay in the countryside for a while’ or ‘I’ll be even busier from now on.’?”

“No. Why do you ask?”

“I-I see. Well, in that case, it’s fine.” Inspector Blois nodded gravely.

Students called Jacqueline, causing a childish frown to appear on Inspector Blois’s face.

“Coming!” she answered, grabbing Inspector Blois’s hand with a smile. “Let’s go! It’s time for the human chess tournament!”

“Huh? Ah!”

“You know, having long-time friends is valuable as you grow up. Something I didn’t know when we were kids. Promise me we will stay as good friends even as we grow older, okay?”

Inspector Blois cast his gaze downward. “I suppose…” Shuffling forward, he nodded. “Very well. I’m a rook, so if the queen finds herself in trouble, I’ll come to her rescue. That’s what childhood friends are for, right?”

“I really appreciate that.”

“Hmph. Well, that’s not really important right now. Let’s go! It’s the beginning of an adventure we never had.”

With childlike innocence that they hadn’t experienced since childhood, the two grownups held hands as they were drawn into the bright garden.

Inspector Blois’s face appeared a little flushed, though it could be attributed to the increasing intensity of the winter sunlight.

A gust of wind blew, causing snow to fall from the branches. More and more students gathered in the garden.

It was the beginning of the annual human chess tournament. The weather was fine, and even the white puffs that were their breaths felt pleasant in some way.

From up above, the small knights, queens, rooks, and bishops, all divided into black and white, resembled living chess pieces moving on a pure-white chessboard made of snow.

This was the first event of this particular winter morning.