3 bar menu

Traveler – Part 08

Suddenly, in the dead of night, Brian woke up.

Victorique, awakened by a scream, illuminated his face with a lantern. His green eyes were wide open, staring fixedly into empty space.

“Cordelia!” he cried.

His figure, deep in the dark night, seemed to hiss and flicker. Shrouded by smoke, his emaciated body briefly transformed into a massive male wolf with fur that, in varying light, appeared both gray and shining silver. In the next moment, he returned to Brian Roscoe, then turned into a big wolf again. He transformed several times. Was it an illusion created by the darkness and the lantern light?

Then Brian, moving only his eyes, slowly looked in Victorique’s direction. When he saw the pallid face of the girl faintly illuminated by the light, he gave a happy and painful smile, the kind a young boy would show, and stretched out both arms.

“Cordelia…”

“Hey…”

“You came for me. I see. I believed you wouldn’t leave me alone, Cordelia.”

“Brian…”

“But I don’t have much time left. Cordelia, while I’m still in this world… Please, just once…”

Raising his body, scrawny as a withered branch, he leaned over Victorique like a father doting on his daughter. Victorique, on the verge of collapsing, flailed weakly.

“Bri…an…”

“Hold me, Cordelia. Just once, embrace me.”

“Brian.”

Victorique was frozen. Then hesitantly, she reached out to Brian’s weakened body. With an extremely stiff and awkward gesture, like a child pretending to be an adult, she embraced his slick, fiery-red head.

“Cordelia. My Cordelia… Our Cordelia…”

“Brian!”

“This is my last bit of strength.” Brian embraced Victorique with a force that made her bones creak. “Thank you for everything,” he whispered in her ear. “For staying by my side.”

“Brian…”

“We led a strange life, but we were happy. All because you were there, Cordelia.”

“Y-Yeah…”

“The time for our reunion is nigh. Au revoir, ma chère!”

Brian slowly crumpled. Every part of his withered body was stiff and dry. Victorique sank into silence, petrified. Then, with a trembling voice, she called Brian’s name again.

There was no response.

Victorique sighed deeply. Gently laying Brian Roscoe’s lifeless form on the bed, she tenderly traced the contours of his face with her palm, closing his once-sparkling green eyes.

In the distance, thunder rumbled, though the storm appeared to be retreating. The gods were no longer pounding their fists on the sea. It felt as though the tempest had surreptitiously carried away Brian’s soul, departing unnoticed by Victorique.

Alone, she sat in the chair, motionless.

---

The following morning, the storm had dissipated, and despite the lingering wintry chill, it was a fine day. Victorique, dragging her feet wearily, stepped onto the deck. Young, burly sailors preceded her, carrying Brian’s remains shrouded in white sheets.

Passengers lounging in the sun averted their gaze, as if sensing an ominous presence, then stole curious glances at Victorique. She was walking dejectedly, hanging her head low.

“Aren’t there a lot of funerals on this ship?” a sailor remarked to his companions. “One person yesterday, and three days ago as well. Also, everyone who passed away had a remarkably beautiful face, this guy included. Is our ship cursed by God?”

“Apparently, the same thing is happening on other ships recently. According to the ship’s doctor, it doesn’t seem to be an infectious disease.”

“Seriously, what’s going on?”

They shrugged, eyes flickering toward Victorique.

Tradition dictated a sea burial for those who passed away onboard a ship. As the crew prepared to consign Brian to the depths, Victorique stopped them.

“Can I… Can I offer some flowers to him?”

“Good luck finding one in this ship. Sorry, miss… Come on, don’t cry. There’s nothing we can do.”

“I see. In that case, take this instead.”

With trembling hands, Victorique took three exquisitely crafted rose ornaments from the chest of her blue dress, placing them on Brian’s chest beneath the sheet.

Brian’s countenance retained a lifelike serenity, as if he were merely asleep. A gentle smile adorned his face.

The three artificial roses nestled quietly—Cordelia and the two Brians—capturing the morning sun in a verdant display.

The crew slowly lowered the remains toward the sea. Leaning heavily on the railing, Victorique peered down, witnessing Brian’s final departure from this world.

Her emerald eyes gleamed with sorrow, her doll-like face expressing Victorique de Blois’s emotions more vividly than ever before. Sadness, loneliness, and concern for Brian’s soul’s fate filled her delicate features.

The wind swept through, tousling Victorique’s hair, ensconced in a bonnet.

A faint smile graced her glossy, cherry lips as the white-shrouded remains descended into the depths.

“Somehow,” she muttered, “it feels like you might produce smoke and mysteriously disappear with some strange power. I wonder why.”

A soft breeze blew once more.

“Magician Brian Roscoe! A mysterious wolf, and partner to my mother.”

The white sheets gradually vanished beyond the waves. Bubbles frolicked and popped.

“Thus, you will transform into gray smoke and hover over the sea, returning to the Old World in a manner of days. I can’t help but entertain the possibility that you will revive as a red-haired young man with mysterious powers once again. That’s how powerful and terrifying you were in my eyes.”

Victorique reeled. A strong wind blew, and the frail and weary girl appeared as if she might be swept away and tossed into the waves herself. She was alone now.

From this point onward, Victorique would navigate the uncharted waters of the New World on her own. No more companions; the people she cherished had left her side.

The wind blew. A chill gust from the future.

Victorique gazed silently into the vast expanse of the sea.

Then, figures emerged on the deck. Seasoned sailors. Snippets of their conversation reached her ears.

“A red-haired young man and a golden-haired little girl.”

“Look at this notice. I can’t believe it.”

“A notorious criminal! Escaped from Saubreme’s Soleil Noir? No one has ever broken free of that prison all throughout history.”

“The one with red hair is apparently a magician. He used some kind of trick to free the girl. The girl is the actual criminal. Leaving her at large is too dangerous.”

“Did you just say a red-haired man? We buried one just now. He had red hair like flames.”

All eyes turned in her direction. There stood Victorique, solitary.

There was no one to protect her anymore. Not Kazuya Kujou. Not Cecile, not Avril. Not even her half-brother Grevil de Blois, Cordelia, or Brian. No one remained.

Beyond the sea lay a new world, a haven of peace and security. Just a bit longer.

The petite girl stared back at the sailors with her cold, burning green eyes. She had barely any strength left as she leaned on the railing, but her exquisite features alone evoked awe, and her expression held a bone-chilling ruthlessness and profound anger. This was the fearsome aura of the Gray Wolf.

The sailors exchanged glances.

“Green eyes…”

“Striking features. And a small frame, looking about ten years old. Matches the description.”

“She claimed the red-haired man was her brother.”

“Is this really a heinous criminal? Quite small… But!”

“That look in her eyes.”

The sailors approached, encircling Victorique.

Victorique took a step back.

Is this the end?

Her eyes gleamed brightly. A gentle breeze wafted.

It would seem the Ministry of the Occult has sent a notice to the ship. My features… golden hair, green eyes, and a small frame. Ah!

She glanced down at the sea, where Brian’s body had just sunk. She swallowed hard.

If I am to be returned to that prison, confined under my father’s control, wielded again as a weapon…

Her father’s laughter reverberated from somewhere. The eerie, triumphant visage of Marquis Albert de Blois, one eye glinting behind his monocle, and the harrowing memories inside the Black Sun’s stone chamber, resurfaced.

The wind blew. The whistle sounded.

I’d rather have a death that feels like life than a life that feels like death. If my freedom is to be taken away from me, I’d rather choose a dignified end.

Burly sailors formed a circle around Victorique. There was no escape. On the ground. Anywhere.

Victorique looked down at the sea once more. The waves surged and retreated invitingly. White froth danced on the surface.

“Hey, take off that bonnet. Show us your hair color, lassie!”

“I feel like I saw this girl walking down the corridor with her hair down. If I recall correctly, it was blonde. Hey, take it off already!”

“Be careful. She’s a vicious criminal.”

“Didn’t you hear us?! Take the bonnet off!”

“Kujou…” Victorique, with a trembling voice, called out the boy’s name.

Before her, the illusionary sea that haunted her thoughts during her confinement in the stone chamber began to materialize. She was returning to that gray expanse, located somewhere between the realm of the living and the dead, where people from all corners of the world who had perished in the war had congregated. Not to the future, but to the dark sea where the ship of the departed, displaying a figure of Christ, came to welcome lost souls onboard.

There was only one thing that filled that place—death.

Weakened and emaciated, Victorique forced her limbs to move, attempting to cross the railing, trying to propel her small frame towards the endless deep blue sea.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t see each other again. I’m sorry for not being able to survive. Kujou, I couldn’t muster the courage you did. But…”

A strong gust of wind swept through.

“I… I… I can’t go back to that prison. Never. I hope you understand, Kujou. My weakness… Oh, Kujou…” Victorique’s eyelids trembled with fear. “I couldn’t be as brave as you.”

The sailors’ arms grabbed Victorique’s head. The bonnet popped off, and her magnificent long hair, meticulously bundled inside, cascaded down with a soft rustle.

The wind blew, rippling the bottom of her blue dress, like a flag hoisted by a small goddess yearning for freedom, a raging river of intense emotions, the luminous tail of a blue star streaking through the night sky.

Adieu, mon chéri…

Victorique squeezed her eyes shut and threw herself into the sea of death.