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Victorique de Blois is a Gray Wolf – Part 04

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Translator: Kell

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Chewing on her candy, Victorique said, “The leaf on your head doesn’t belong to any of the trees inside the campus. First of all, there’s mail peeking out of your breast pocket. The fact that you were later than usual and in a hurry suggests that you went somewhere after your afternoon classes. That’s all. It’s quite simple, really.”

“I guess when you put it like that, sure. Still surprises me every time, though. You can guess everything I did without even watching me.”

Victorique suddenly lifted her head. Wide-open eyes, sparkling green as a tropical sea, stared at Kazuya.

“Elementary, my dear Kujou. The Wellspring of Wisdom within me said so. My heightened senses gather fragments of chaos from the world around me. The Wellspring of Wisdom then toys with them to stave off my boredom, reconstructing them. If I feel like it, I may even verbalize them so that a simpleton like you can understand. It’s often too much trouble, though. Do you understand?”

“There you go again, calling me a simpleton and whatnot.”

“What, I can’t?” Victorique sounded genuinely curious. Her emerald eyes flickered.

Kazuya sighed. “Never mind. I’m already used to it.”

“That won’t do. Acclimation is the death of intelligence. Reflect on that.”

“Reflect? Who, me? I highly doubt I’m the one who needs to do some reflection.”

Kazuya was mad, but he couldn’t really stay furious.

Normally, Kazuya would never allow anyone to call him, a bright man representing his country, a simpleton, but when this eccentric, crazy little girl who had never attended class—yet somehow able to skim through difficult books with ease—said it, he couldn’t say anything back.

Even now, he still didn’t know much about Victorique. Some said she was the illegitimate daughter of a nobleman. Her family feared her so they sent her to this school because they didn’t want her staying in the house. Her mother was a famous dancer who went crazy. She was the reincarnation of the legendary gray wolf. The school rumors were often dubious, like most horror stories.

Kazuya himself had never asked Victorique about her personal life. Partly because he thought asking such questions was distasteful, and partly because Victorique, despite her petite frame and dignified demeanor, emitted a ferocious aura that intimidated those around her.

Several months had passed since he’d met her, months spent trying to get close to this tiny, wild critter. Kazuya often found himself wondering why he was even doing all this, but like he always did, he climbed the maze-like stairs again today just for this odd girl. Such was his exchange student life so far.

“By the way, Victorique,” Kazuya said, keeping his spirits up. “I had some business in the village.”

Victorique was absorbed in her reading, chewing on a whiskey bonbon. “You went to the post office to get your mail, no?”

“Yeah. I actually asked my family to send me a certain book, but I don’t think they received my letter in time. I got some allowance from my eldest brother instead. He wanted to share a little of his first paycheck as a scholar.”

“Ahuh.”

“So, since I got some extra cash, I got you this.” Kazuya confidently presented the Indian turban.

Victorique raised her head, and after casting a weary glance at the headdress, she turned her gaze back to the book. A second later, her eyes darted back to it. “What is that?!”

“It’s a hat. What else would it be?”

“That’s a hat?!”

An unexpected bite. Kazuya was disappointed at her reaction, however. She was shocked, not delighted.

“…Is it weird?” he asked.

“It is!”

“I-I see… I’ll just return it, then, if you don’t want it.”

Dejected, Kazuya reached for the turban, when Victorique spun around, snatched it away, and whirled back to her original position. She placed the turban on the floor opposite from Kazuya, hiding it with her own body.

Kazuya looked at her curiously. “Do you want it?”

“I just said it was weird. I never said I didn’t want it.”

“But if it’s weird, I’ll have it exchanged with something you’ll like. I knew I should have gotten a lace collar or a pretty ring. I think I got tricked. That nun did look like she had a few screws loose…”

Victorique was hunched over, eagerly fiddling with the turban. She looked like a cat playing with a new toy, adorable in a way, but after a while, she tossed the turban aside.

“I’m sick of it.”

“Now, listen here. You don’t play with hats. You wear them. You haven’t even tried it on yet.”

“I’m bored.”

“So… Wait, you’re bored? Did you really say bored?”

Sensing trouble, Kazuya rose to his feet, ready to run away. “I gotta head back to the dorm…”

Victorique cast him a sidelong glance, and before he could walk away, pulled on his pants.

Kazuya fell hard and slammed his face on the floor. “Ouch!”

“I said I’m bored.”

“And I heard you! What do you want me to do about it? Oh, right!” He bolted upright. “I totally forgot about the other souvenir. While I was buying the turban, a strange incident occurred. A theft.”

After purchasing the turban, Kazuya turned to leave, when the nun running the bazaar recommended a small music box. As soon as Avril picked it up, the music box broke apart and a pigeon flew out from inside. While everyone was looking at it, the expensive plate on display at the bazaar vanished into thin air.

The police officers who rushed to the scene performed a body check on all the shoppers present, including Kazuya and Avril. The nun was frantic, but the plate was never found.

Thanks to the commotion, Kazuya and Avril returned late, past the school’s curfew, and had to stand in front of the closed iron gate for a while.

While Kazuya was explaining the situation, Avril pulled him away and led him to a hidden hole through the hedge.

After breaking curfew again last week, Avril used a hatchet to chop a couple of the hedge’s sturdy branches just in case.

“We shouldn’t do this,” he had said, but returned to the campus through the hole anyway.

That’s why there was a leaf on Kazuya’s head from a tree not found in the academy.

“Sounds really strange, doesn’t it?” Kazuya said. “The music box was the size of the palm of my hand, not big enough to hide a pigeon inside. But as soon as it broke apart, a white pigeon flew out. At the same time, the expensive plate disappeared. No one in the area left in a hurry, but it was nowhere to be found.”

“…Is that it?” Victorique yawned loudly.

Kazuya blinked. She stretched and fiddled with the hat again.

“What do you mean?”

“There’s only one culprit, Kujou. They were right beside you.”

“Huh?”

“What a simple fragment. I wouldn’t even call it chaos. Ah, I’m bored. I think I might die. That’s how terribly boring it is, you dolt.”

Kazuya was a little pissed. “Then why don’t you wear that hat?”

“Hmm.”

Victorique wore the turban like a crown, her long, golden hair hanging down her back. It was just the right size for her small head. She looked like a princess from a faraway desert country.

Kazuya was wondering whether to compliment her or not, when he heard footsteps from far below. Big feet in leather shoes. As he looked down the railing, his eyes met with the person standing on the first floor’s hall.

Kazuya turned to Victorique. “Guess who’s back.”

“…Hmm? She frowned a little.

Clang! Clang Clang!

The hydraulic elevator started to move.

Victorique shifted a bit.

Clank!

The steel cage made a loud noise and stopped in a small elevator hall in front of the conservatory. A young man was standing inside.

The cage squealed open, revealing a man with a weird hairdo striking a pose, one arm stretched upward, and the other on his waist.

He wore a classy three-piece suit with a fancy ascot. Silver cuffs gleamed on his wrists. He would’ve been hands-down dashing if it weren’t for the weird hairstyle. The tip of his bright blond hair was shaped like a drill, making him look like a human weapon.

“He’s probably here to ask you about the case I just told you about,” Kazuya whispered.

Victorique yawned once more, seemingly uninterested.

The man—Inspector Grevil de Blois—sauntered in, his leather boots clicking. Victorique’s half-brother, he became a police detective by using his noble status.

He turned to Kazuya and Victorique, and with utmost confidence said, “I wanted to talk to you guys about something…” He shut his mouth.

His face slowly turned pale. His mouth was agape, his eyes wide open, and his fingertips trembled as though he had seen a ghost.

Astonished, Kazuya looked around. There was Kazuya, his little friend Victorique—still wearing the turban—a pile of books, candies, and a conservatory.

Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing to elicit such a reaction.

Inspector Blois was white as a sheet, his mouth flapping open and shut, but he eventually managed to speak. “Cordelia… Gallo?! What are you doing here…?”

“It’s just me, Grevil.” Victorique said calmly. She removed the turban, and her silky, golden hair cascaded down.

Inspector Blois’ pale face gradually turned red with anger. “I-I just got confused!” he barked, irritated that he shouted out of fear.

“Who’s Cordelia Gallo?” Kazuya asked.

The two siblings, who looked nothing alike, ignored Kazuya’s question.

Kazuya hung his head. “Fine. I won’t ask. Tsk.”

Not paying any attention to Kazuya, Victorique smoked her pipe. Inspector Blois also took out a pipe and lit it. Two wisps of smoke slowly rose toward the skylight.

A while later, Inspector Blois began to speak.

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