PandoraHearts ~Caucus Race~, Vol. 1 (12 page)

He’d said the request to socialize wasn’t something Dahlia herself had wanted. Her father, the head of the Garland family, had planned it.

When he mentioned this to Break, Break responded with a short, “Oh, that.” Then he said, “Master Dansen is no longer with us. He passed away about six months ago.”

The faint hiss of burning candlewicks.

Gilbert awoke, surfacing into a dull headache.

He seemed to have been blindfolded with some sort of cloth: His field of vision was pitch-black. He could tell that he was seated in a chair. His arms and legs had been lashed to the chair’s arms and legs, and he couldn’t move them at all. —He’d been tied up.

He’d had tea in Dahlia’s room, and then he’d collapsed.

That was as far as Gilbert’s memories went.

Where…am I?

He’d awakened to find himself a prisoner.

Ordinarily, it wouldn’t have been odd for someone in his situation to feel confused or frantic, but Gilbert was calm.

He might have had a headache, but his thoughts were sharp and clear.

He didn’t immediately raise his voice. Instead, he used his free senses to explore his surroundings. In the air, he caught the lingering scent of blood. When he listened carefully, he
heard faint breathing, as though several people were watching and waiting. They had Gilbert surrounded. Was Dahlia among them? He couldn’t tell that much. …But.

…She set me up?

Why? He didn’t know.

He was fairly sure that Dahlia had mixed a sleeping potion into his tea.

On top of that, the sweet fragrance that had hung in Dahlia’s room had probably been a type of incense, compounded to dull the senses. Something to keep him from noticing the drug in his tea… In that case, her methods had been meticulous and sophisticated. It meant she’d counted on Gilbert coming to the mansion from the very beginning.

At length, he heard one sharp footstep, and someone addressed him. “Are you awake, chosen ‘sacrifice’?”

The voice was a woman’s…but not Dahlia’s. It wasn’t a voice he recognized.

Although it was superficially cool, a dark fanaticism lurked deep within it.

In an indifferent tone, without flinching in the slightest, Gilbert asked a question of his own:

“So you’re the ringleader?”

“I’ll thank you to refrain from using that boorish term. —Call me the ‘Great Mother.’”

“That’s quite a name.” Gilbert sounded mildly disgusted.

“Heh-heh! You’re a steady one. I suppose I’d expect no less from a son of Nightray.”

Gilbert was a bit startled.

Did the woman know what it meant to do harm to one of the four families, to whom the crown had granted vast authority? On top of that, even among the four, the House of Nightray’s position was unique. Did she know how serious a matter it was to lay hands on a Nightray?

From the woman’s words, he could tell that she did know, and had done so anyway.

Clack, clack
. The woman’s footsteps approached Gilbert.

“That is precisely what makes you a worthy offering for our god.”

As she spoke, the woman’s hands twined around the back of Gilbert’s head, and the blindfold fell away.

Gilbert found himself looking at a woman’s enraptured face. She seemed to be somewhere between thirty and forty.

Although her features were regular, they gave the impression of being somehow warped. The fault lay in her eyes. They were the eyes of one in the thrall of a mad obsession. Her showy, provocative dress clashed oddly with the old book she carried carefully under her arm.

The woman leaned in close to Gilbert, as if she meant to kiss him.

However, Gilbert ignored her and glanced quickly around the room. It was a stone chamber, and not very large. From the absence of windows, he guessed it was underground. Seven or eight women stood solemnly along the walls.

Among them, he found Dahlia.

“Dahlia.”

When he called her name, briefly, she gave a small gasp and averted her face. Gilbert returned his gaze to the woman in front of him.

“Was Dahlia acting on your orders?”

“She was. She’s known as ‘Black Widow’ here.” The woman smiled.

Black Widow. A type of venemous spider.

It was a byname, Gilbert thought. Like his “Raven.”

His brother Vincent’s words flitted through his mind.
All women are venemous spiders.

He put off thinking about that until later, focused on the
woman in front of him, and continued. “From the very beginning, you mean?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

Her smile widened, and the woman began to speak proudly. She told Gilbert she’d researched him, studying him thoroughly to discover what sort of woman would be able to create a vulnerability in his heart.

She’s not wrong
. Gilbert suppressed a bitter smile. If she’d needed a woman to ensnare Gilbert, Dahlia had been the perfect choice.

I sure am calm, aren’t I…?
Gilbert thought, laughing at himself a little.
I guess I really do belong to “this side” of the world—

More than he did to the bright world of marriage and socialization, of proper relationships.

Here he was, able to maintain an incredible calm.

It was equally true that, somewhere deep down, a part of him regretted having that ability. …But.

“And yet, this foolish child!”

Interrupting Gilbert’s thoughts, the woman spoke loudly, her tone acidic. She approached Dahlia.

As Dahlia flinched, shrinking back, the woman slapped her across the face with all her might. The dull sound echoed through the stone chamber. The blow had been powerful enough to send the delicate Dahlia reeling, but she only apologized in a faint voice: “I’m very sorry.”

As the woman pressed a hand over Dahlia’s neck, making her wince in agony, she glanced at Gilbert.

“When it came to snaring you, she hesitated. Such a nuisance.”

Gilbert’s eyes widened slightly.

“This after I told her I’d resurrect her precious father through the power of our god.”

“Her father?”

At Gilbert’s murmur, the woman began to speak, her face suffused with a sense of superiority.

“Ah! I see you didn’t know. The girl’s father passed away six months ago. He’s long gone. Well, of course you wouldn’t have known: She hasn’t told anyone about it. An only child and her only parent… The affection that bound them to one another must have been incredibly deep.”

The woman—the Great Mother—had been constantly searching for devotees to serve her god, and one of the believers had noticed that Dahlia seemed strange. She’d approached her, and Dahlia had come to the Great Mother in search of a miracle, becoming a believer.

“A miracle?”

At Gilbert’s muttered words, the Great Mother laughed. “That’s right, that’s what she wanted! —Oh, shall I tell you? In one of the rooms of that mansion you visited lies—”

“Don’t! Please!” Dahlia screamed, as though the woman had found an emotional wound she didn’t want touched.

“—Lies her father’s corpse, even now! Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

With an expression as if she was fighting back pain, Dahlia desperately averted her face from Gilbert.

“Is that true, Dahlia?”

Dahlia didn’t answer Gilbert’s question.

Her silence spoke volumes.

It
was
the truth.

“And she wants it brought back to life. What a warped, foolish wish!” The Great Mother went on, sounding thoroughly amused. “But our god is merciful. The wishes of greedy fools! The prayers of guilty sinners! No doubt he will accept them both equally!”

“—Stop.”

Gilbert’s voice was low. He hadn’t spoken roughly, but his voice stopped the Great Mother’s words cold.

After hearing the words “our god,” “sacrifice,” and “offering,” he didn’t even have to ask what the women were. They were fanatics who worshipped an evil god, rather than the globally prevalent angel religion.

Not that Gilbert had the slightest shred of belief in either one.

What really existed in this world were “demons.” Grotesque beings who took advantage of the darkness, desires, and weakness in human hearts, made contracts with them, and destroyed them. They were called Chains.

These women should have been thanking their god for the fact that they’d come this far without attracting a Chain.

“I’m saying this for your own good. Let me go. …And quit doing this ridiculous stuff immediately.”

Gilbert really had said it for the women’s sake.

“You’re certainly calm.”

The Great Mother sounded amused, but there was an edge of irritation to her voice.

In a situation this tame—

If it came down to it, he could easily turn the tables by summoning the Chain he was contracted to. Of course, even without going that far, he could tell at a glance that the women were amateurs when it came to fights. There was nothing here to make Gilbert anxious or uneasy.

“Could it be that you don’t understand?” The Great Mother sounded mildly appalled. She released Dahlia, returning to stand in front of Gilbert. “If so, you’re rather dull-witted.”

As she spoke, she took the book from under her arm and held it lovingly to her breast. Then, in a soft, coaxing voice: “Fu-fu-fu. You are a true sacrifice, chosen through the words of the scriptures.”

“I’ll admit to being slow on the uptake, but I had picked up on that part,” Gilbert replied crossly.

“Your soul will be held fast in the arms of our god, never to return. —Your flesh and blood will serve to nourish him.”

The Great Mother seemed intoxicated by her own words. She was actually trembling. Gilbert stared at her coldly, seeing a woman who’d drowned in the darkness of her heart. Then, without looking at Dahlia, he spoke to her.

“Dahlia, what about you?”

At Gilbert’s question, Dahlia only looked down. “…I’m sorry,” she murmured.

So that’s it
, Gilbert thought. He heaved a small sigh, although his neck was still restrained.

The Great Mother didn’t even think it suspicious that Gilbert, her captive, was perfectly composed. She continued, enraptured. “Now then, let’s slit your throat. Hollow out your chest. Offer your life to our god.”

She took a knife from her bosom and held it to Gilbert’s neck. The blade broke the skin; beads of blood welled up. For a moment, Dahlia started to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. The Great Mother whispered to Gilbert, gently, madly, “Go on. Tremble. Fear. That is what—”

“Shut up.”

Gilbert slipped one of his hands free of its bonds, pulled a handgun from his inside pocket, and held it to the Great Mother’s forehead, right between her eyes.

Possibly because they’d assumed Dahlia’s incense and potion would keep Gilbert from moving easily for a while, they’d bound him carelessly, and they hadn’t even taken his gun. It was as if the thought that their sacrifice might strike back had never crossed their minds.

He’d been roundly underestimated.

It’s a complete farce.

His thoughts were cool.

He didn’t even feel like wasting lead on opponents like these.

Gilbert said, simply but sharply:

“Unfortunately, my flesh and blood belong to Oz.”

Just as he spoke, the door to the stone chamber flew open with a bang.

Then a voice he knew very well said:

“—Gil!”

A short while ago. Back when Gilbert was still tied to the chair, asleep.

“…Uwah, they really
are
flashy. Hey, this one’s see-through.”

Just off Reveil’s high street, Oz—muttering—peered into the show window of the high-class boutique Night Butterfly. Behind him, Break responded: “What did I tell you?” At his feet lay the Garland family’s butler. He’d been put out of commission with one karate chop from Break.

When Oz and Break reached the boutique, the butler had been standing by the door, obviously waiting for someone. As Oz approached the door, the butler had drawn a handgun from an inner pocket— Or rather, he had been attempting to do so when Break struck. He’d gone down quite easily.

“Are we going in through there, Break?”

Oz pointed to the door beside the show window.

Break said, “Let’s see…” He looked thoughtful. “There does seem to be a back door, but that sounds like work. Why not just go in through the front?”

Oz nodded, then looked up at the boutique’s sign that hung over his head.

After the carriage had left the Garland residence, Oz and Break had sneaked into the deserted mansion and looked for Gilbert. However, they hadn’t found him anywhere. That meant the natural thing was to assume he’d been bundled into that carriage.

Having determined the most likely destination was Night Butterfly, they’d visited the shop.

“Still…” Oz murmured. He sounded impressed. “I never thought they’d have their hideout here, right in the middle of town.”

“The best place to hide a tree is in a forest. If you want to hide a person, use a crowd.”

Break sounded as if it wasn’t unusual at all.

By making the place appear to be a high-class boutique on the surface, it would naturally attract noble ladies.

If the proprietress was the leader of an evil organization and was hoping to increase her power, she’d been wise to target the women of the aristocracy. If she managed to involve them, she’d have vast amounts of money at her disposal, and they’d only improve her camouflage in public spheres.

Oz stood in front of the door and quietly grasped the knob. He tried to turn it, but of course it was locked.

When he looked back, Break had a small key pinched between his fingers and was waggling it at him.

Break glanced at the butler, who was collapsed at his feet, and smiled. “Borrowed it.
”

Oz took the key and slipped it into the door’s keyhole. He turned it.
Click
. He pulled the knob, and the door opened.

No sound came from inside. The shop seemed deserted.

Without turning, Oz spoke to Break. “Okay, Break. Let’s go.”

“—Onii-chan?”

As if replying for Break, a voice cut in from the side.
Huh?
Oz thought.

It was a voice he should never have heard in a place like this.

Oz’s gaze darted toward its source. …It was his little sister, Ada. Not only that, but she didn’t even have her maid with her. She was all alone, here in this back lane. Startled and worried, Oz forgot his own position and involuntarily raised his voice.

“Ada, what do you think you’re doing in a place like this, all by yourself?! That’s dangerous!”

Ada’s shoulders quivered under the angry scolding.

At the same time, Oz came back to himself with a jolt. He’d remembered exactly what he was in the middle of doing. He shot a flustered look in Break’s direction, but the prone form of the butler at his feet had vanished. With a conjuror’s dexterity, Break had apparently flung the man into the shadows somewhere.

As was only to be expected, Break’s expression was slightly troubled, but his eyes said,
This one’s all yours, Oz-kun.

As unhappy as Oz was to have the situation dropped in his lap, it was true that, as Ada’s big brother, he was the one who should handle it.

He turned to face Ada again. The sight of her big brother’s anger had clearly made her nervous.

“Oh, uh, I’m sorry, Ada. I didn’t mean to yell like that.”

When Oz apologized, Ada shook her head.
There must be a reason Ada’s in a place like this, all by herself
, Oz thought.

Then his gaze abruptly went to the boutique, and the shock hit him like a ton of bricks. He looked back at her.

“Ada, don’t tell me… Are you planning to buy something from this place?”

To the point where she’d go on the sly, taking the risk of walking around on her own—

His little sister had certainly grown a lot, but still, it was
much, much too early for this. As her big brother, Oz couldn’t accept it.

Your Onii-chan won’t stand for it!
That was how he felt.

At Oz’s words, Ada glanced at the show window, took in the display of provocative dresses, and blushed bright red.

Hastily, she looked back at Oz, saying, “N-no. No!” and waving her hands wildly. She told him that she’d come to town with her maid to do some shopping and had seen her big brother leaving the high street for a back alley. Without thinking, she’d left her maid behind and run after him.

“Oh, was
that
all,” Oz said, sighing with relief.

This time, it was Ada’s turn to ask. With several little nervous glances at the show window, she said, “…What about you, Onii-chan? Were you buying a dress to give to someone…?”

Oz burst out laughing.

“N-n-no! And anyway, I like younger, more innocent-looking dresses—”

“But you were on your way in…weren’t you?”

Oz didn’t know what to say.

His real intentions were different…but he couldn’t tell his sister that.

He glanced at Break, who was silently mouthing,
We don’t have time to stand around chatting!
at him.
I
know
that!
Oz retorted with his eyes.

He had to get Ada away from here somehow. He didn’t want to drag her into this.

However, she was already suspicious—either that, or immensely curious.

If he didn’t talk her around very cleverly, she might follow them inside—

“Well, uh, you see. Someone asked me to come here, to…to pick something up. That’s all.”

“Who?”

Oz found himself at a loss again. He thought hard and fast. Finally,

I’m sorry!

With a silent apology, he said, “For Uncle. Uncle Oscar.” He gave a strained little smile.

“Uncle Oscar…?”

“That’s right. He’s sending it to someone… A lady. But it sounds as if he doesn’t want word to get around, so… Could you pretend you didn’t see me? Pretend you didn’t see anything, Ada, and get away from the boutique. I bet your maid’s looking for you anyway. All right?”

At last, after hearing Oz through, Ada nodded timidly. Her cheeks were red. What was going through her mind? With another glance at the show window, Ada murmured, “To think Uncle Oscar had someone to give dresses like these to…”

If Uncle Oscar finds out about this, he may actually kill me
, Oz thought. However, for now, all that mattered was getting himself through this situation.

“Oh, um, ummm, then, I’ll be…going.”

“R-right. Sorry, Ada.”

As Ada left, awkwardly, Oz gave her an equally awkward wave. As Oz watched her go, Break came up beside him.

“Well done,” he said, but Oz couldn’t bring himself to be completely happy about that. Once again, Break put his hand on the knob, opened the door, and slipped into the boutique.

Oz hastily followed him.

The shop was hung with gaudy dresses on display, but the lights were off, and the place was filled with a dreary gloom. As the two of them entered, their footsteps were the only sound.

“There’s no one here.”

At Oz’s murmur, Break nodded.

“They couldn’t know who might come in. If they kidnapped Gilbert-kun, no matter
what
they’re plotting, they wouldn’t do it in the shop. There
must
be a secret room somewhere…and there should be a passage that leads to it. Come, let’s look.”

“Look where?”

Oz glanced around the shop. He sounded a bit bewildered.

The shop also held undergarments meant to be worn under dresses. Like the dresses themselves, the styles were universally bold and provocative. It was a bit much for Oz—ever since he’d entered the boutique, it hadn’t felt quite safe to look at anything.

“What are you blushing about?” Break looked mildly disgusted. “Underwear no one’s worn yet is just cloth.”

Even then, boys’ hearts are such that they can’t easily make that distinction.

Oz began searching the boutique’s interior. In order to inspect the walls, he parted the dresses and undergarments that hung on them. Possibly because the shop catered to the aristocracy, the materials used were of fine quality, and Oz kept catching himself admiring the textures.

Finally, Break noticed a suspicious join in the wall of a fitting room. That section of the wall proved to be a hidden door, and when they opened it, they discovered a set of stairs leading underground.

The two of them descended in the darkness. The stairs led down to a stone corridor that stretched away in three directions: right, left, and straight ahead.

Candleholders topped by small, wavering flames were mounted on the corridor walls at fixed intervals. Thanks to that, they had no trouble seeing.

“This is a really big basement.”

Oz sounded surprised; he’d assumed they’d find one or two underground rooms at most.

“It does look as if it cost a pretty penny. Financed by the ladies of the aristocracy, I suspect.”

“So…it’s an underground temple?”

The problem was which of the three corridors they should take. Which one held Gilbert?

“Well, let’s start from the front,” Break said, carelessly.

And so…

“—Gil!”

Gilbert was aghast, both at the voice which called him as the door to the stone chamber opened, and by the sight of Oz entering the room immediately after.

Up until now, he’d kept his cool, but his surprise made him momentarily vulnerable. The Great Mother didn’t let that chance pass her by. Three of Gilbert’s limbs were still tied to the chair, and she threw her weight against it, tipped it over, and spun around, fleeing the room through a different door from the one Oz and Break had entered by.

A confused cry rose from the women who’d been left behind, including Dahlia, but they seemed unable to move. It was possible that none of them understood the situation.

Gilbert, who’d toppled over with the chair, had hit his head in the wrong place; as he watched Oz come running to him, he felt dizzy.

“Oz, what… Why…?”

“What do you mean, ‘why’! I’m your master, you’re my valet. Of course I’d show up when you’re in trouble!”

It’s supposed to be the other way around
, thought Gilbert. …But this was the Oz he knew.

Oz crouched down beside the fallen Gilbert, hastily trying to untie his legs and other hand. Briefly, Gilbert told him,
“Don’t bother.” He turned the muzzle of his gun on the chair and fired repeatedly, destroying the armrest and legs. Completely freed of his bonds, he got to his feet.

With the exception of Dahlia—who stood where she was, dazed—the women had gathered in a corner of the room and were huddled together, trembling.

Ignoring the women for the time being, Gilbert turned back to Oz and Break.

“You two—”

He looked at Oz, then at Break.

From Break’s composed expression, Gilbert could tell he already knew everything. Break gave a teasing smile and said, “We were worried about you, Gilbert-kun!
” in a tone that made it obvious that he hadn’t been worried at all.

…
Tch
. Gilbert clicked his tongue, softly.

“Say, Gil?” Oz glanced at the door the Great Mother had vanished through. “Who was the lady that ran off?”

“
!” At those words, Gilbert gulped slightly. “The one who was pulling the strings behind all this. I’ve got to go after her.”