PandoraHearts ~Caucus Race~, Vol. 1 (14 page)

The Great Mother didn’t have the slightest idea of what was going on.

The scriptures are more important than my life— Yet this girl has a copy, too… What? What?

The Great Mother stood, dazed, unable to utter a word. Thinking she’d angered her, Ada’s shoulders shrank inward. She fidgeted nervously as she spoke. “I-I’m terribly sorry. I’m afraid I’ve said something rude. …Umm, if you’d like, shall I lend you a magic book I do recommend?”

As far as Ada was concerned, the offer was based in sincere apology and goodwill. It also held the innocent, friendly desire to bond with someone who shared her interests.

However, the Great Mother was already poised on the brink of a nervous breakdown. In a hollow voice, she asked a question.

A question she should never have asked.

“What…sort of book…might that be?”

At that, Ada said, “Oh, just wait till you hear!” and rose to her feet with a smile so brilliant it made you wonder where her former dejection had gone. At the abrupt change, the Great Mother took an involuntary step back.

That didn’t seem to bother Ada. She came around to the Great Mother’s side and put her lips right next to the woman’s
ear. She whispered happily, as if telling an especially good secret.

“
Wussa-wussa-wussa-wussa-wussa-wussa
……………”

The Great Mother froze, as though she were being dragged down by inches to the very bottom of Hell.

She seemed like one who’d come face-to-face with something more terrible than death. In contrast, Ada’s expression could have belonged to a young girl merrily picking flowers in a meadow.

As for the eyes that were trained on the two women from the gap in the bookshelf… As Vincent spied on the two, he knew from the look of the whispering Ada and the state of the listening Great Mother just what sort of words were being spoken. Past trauma reared its head inside Vincent. What he’d been told, the things he’d been shown, when Ada had taken him to the other Vessalius mansion earlier…

Finally, as if dispatching a hated enemy, Ada smacked the cover of the scriptures with girlish vehemence, saying, “It’s worth ever so much more than
this
book, which can’t do a thing but trick people!
”

Her words were full of sincere concern for the Great Mother. She gave a lovely smile, like a flower.

It was…

The final blow.

Even when Vincent’s darkness touched her, the Great Mother had not screamed.

But, finally, through the underground corridors, and even in the boutique aboveground…

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

…the Great Mother’s scream reverberated.

That was the end of the woman who’d made an attempt on Gilbert’s life.

Afternoon, the next day.

Oz and Gilbert were alone in Gilbert’s apartment in one of Reveil’s shabbier neighborhoods. Oz had eaten a lunch Gilbert had fixed for him, and was currently enjoying a cup of tea. As Gilbert washed dishes in the kitchen, he kept sneaking glances at Oz.

He thought Oz probably wanted to talk about the recent incident.

However, as soon as he’d arrived at the apartment, Oz had said, “I’m hungry,” and begun badgering him for food, and so far he hadn’t said one word about the events of the previous day.

He was eagerly stuffing his face with the scones Gilbert had put out with the tea.

Did he…just come by for lunch?

Gilbert was pretty sure that couldn’t be it, but he mentally cocked his head, perplexed.

Gilbert had things he wanted to say regarding yesterday, too.

Or rather, there was something he wanted to check.

What he’d said just before Oz and Break had burst into that stone chamber:

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

He wanted to know whether or not Oz had heard him.

From the timing, he thought, it could have gone either way.
…And it wasn’t as if he’d be in a bind if Oz had overheard. It hadn’t been a lie: It was what Gilbert truly felt. However, if words he’d spoken from his heart when he thought they wouldn’t be heard had actually been heard…

—That would be embarrassing.

“Giiil, the scones are gone. Seconds, please. Now.”

Having polished off a heaping plate of scones, Oz pestered him for more. In a tone of weary amazement, Gilbert said, “You’ve had enough already. Eat any more and you won’t have room for dinner.”

“Aww…” Oz puffed out his cheeks in dissatisfaction.

At the sight of Oz acting his age, Gilbert chuckled and, smiling, brought the teapot over.

Oz drained his teacup and held it out, saying, “Thank you.”

As Gilbert poured fresh, hot tea, he studied Oz.

I’ll ask casually, nonchalantly—

“Say, Gil?” Oz spoke casually. “You are going to get married eventually, right? Someday, to somebody.”

His voice wasn’t teasing, but it didn’t sound grave, either. Gilbert fell silent, wondering where
that
had come from. Then he remembered what he and Oz had said, in this apartment, two nights ago.

“Gil, are you getting married?”

“…I might. If I did, I’d prefer a lady like her.”

What had he been thinking when he said those words? Right: He’d been bitter about being teased by Oz and Break.

He’d said it as if he was rising to the bait, picking up the gauntlet. It hadn’t meant anything more than that.

What had Oz been feeling just now, when he’d brought up marriage again? Gilbert didn’t know.

However, he gave a brief sigh.

“…I won’t. I don’t even think I could.”

“Why not? You’re kind of a wimp, but you’re nice, and you’re really good at chores. You’re ultra-prime real estate.”

“…The ‘wimp’ was uncalled for, and when aristocrats get married, chores don’t come into it.”

“Are you sure…?” Oz looked doubtful.

“Besides… None of that is the reason.”

Gilbert’s answer was brusque. At that, Oz said, as nonchalantly as ever, “Because your flesh and blood are mine?”

He
did
hear that!

Gilbert felt his face go hot. He’d professed his loyalty to Oz many, many times before. He knew it was nothing to be embarrassed about now, but he couldn’t help it. He turned away from Oz.

He could feel Oz’s eyes, watching his profile.

“Gil.”

“…”

Gilbert was silent for a long, long time. Finally:

“For now,” he answered.

Oz gave a mischievous laugh. “Heh-heh!”

That smile made Gilbert feel a vague chagrin, and he continued. “If I ever get married, it’ll be after you do.”

“Huh? Me?”

“You’re the next head of the House of Vessalius, you know. You’ll have to.”

“Ah… Will I? I guess I will, huh…” Oz muttered; he didn’t seem very enthused about the idea. He looked up at the ceiling, and his expression grew thoughtful.

It looked as though he was visualizing his own future.

Himself, with a loving family.

“—I can’t even imagine that,” he muttered, as if tossing the words away.

What sort of thoughts did those words carry? What did they mean?

They might have held nothing at all. Then again, they might have held many things. It was impossible to tell from Oz’s voice and expression.

Gilbert didn’t know how to respond. He thought for a little while.

“What’s the point in saying stuff like that? If we both stay single until we’re old geezers…”

At that, Oz blinked a bit. Then he grinned.

“If that happens, let’s sun ourselves in the garden together. Side by side, on the same bench.”

“…”

Gilbert imagined it.

Decades from now. A wrinkled old version of Oz, and himself, ten years wrinklier, soaking up the sun in the garden of the Vessalius manor. He imagined them having conversations like this: “Ho-ho-ho, Gil, wouldja fetch me some of that there tea?” “Yeeees, Young Master Oz.
Up
we get, oof! Phew…”

It felt very idyllic, and warm—

“…That wouldn’t be bad.”

At Gilbert’s murmur, Oz immediately grimaced.

“Huh? Yuck, no, I’d hate that. I just imagined it and it gave me chills. Ugh…”

“Why?! It’d be nice and peaceful. What’s wrong with that?”

Gilbert was stung. Still grimacing, Oz said, “It’s peaceful, but it’s too bland. If there aren’t any cute girls around, I won’t stand for it!”

Oz sounded petulant. Gilbert argued right back.

The apartment was filled with loud voices, and it stayed that way for a good long time…

It was noisy, lively, and somehow gentle.

A scene from the sort of pair who seemed likely to stay together for life.

That night.

After taking Oz back to Pandora Headquarters, Gilbert stopped by his apartment again, then headed for the Nightray manor. He walked down Reveil’s bustling high street. He was returning the suit he’d worn to meet Dahlia.

As he wove his way through the throngs of people, Gilbert thought back over the previous day.

After he’d said those final words to Dahlia in the stone chamber, the Great Mother’s scream had echoed through the whole underground complex.

When they looked for her, they found her collapsed in what seemed to be a secret room. She was unconscious, and on her face was the expression of a woman who’d encountered some indescribable horror… But there was no one else in the room. Gilbert and the others could only wonder.

Even Break didn’t seem to understand what had happened.

Gilbert and Dahlia parted ways in front of the boutique.

He doubted he’d ever see her again. He didn’t know what she planned to do now. Would she go on as before, living with her father’s body hidden in the manor? If so, would it remain undetected by the outside world? What would happen if people found out?

Whatever happened, it was nothing to do with him anymore. She’d probably vanish from his memories someday, as well.

“All women are venemous spiders,” eh…?

He remembered what his brother had said to him, when he’d returned to the Nightray manor to borrow the suit.

It just might be true.

Even Dahlia, who’d seemed so quiet and modest, had had venom… Darkness. Maybe everyone, man or woman, hid
similar darkness, even if it wasn’t visible on the surface. Just when Gilbert’s mood had turned gloomy…a lovely voice and face abruptly rose in the back of his mind.

“Gil, don’t. You mustn’t look so sullen.”

Ada-sama…

She moved in an atmosphere of soft warmth and gentleness.

There was no woman less suited to the words “hidden venom” than Ada…no matter who else might have it.

I want to see Ada-sama
, Gilbert thought, with no reason for thinking it. …He wanted to see her, and chat with her about trivial things, and have her scold him for getting so gloomy. That said, Gilbert wasn’t the sort who could just go see her without an excuse, and he wasn’t clever enough to come up with an excuse where none existed.

No, that’s wrong
, Gilbert rebuked himself.
You’re trying to lean on her, like a little kid. Grow up.

You’ve got to pull yourself together.

When he reached the Nightray manor, he thought, he’d have to look in on his little brother as well.

He had to tell him that the Dahlia affair was over.

“Haaaah…”

Feeling quite unmotivated, Gilbert gave a dreary sigh.

“He’s refusing all visitors?”

Echo had been the one to tell Gilbert this. When Gilbert had arrived at the Nightray manor and visited Vincent’s private room, he’d found her standing in front of the door.

Echo nodded.

“He says he won’t see anyone for two or three days.”

“Has he collapsed? …Is he sick?”

“No.” Echo shook her head. Still expressionless, she looked down slightly, as if thinking. “He has…some slight mental trauma.”

Gilbert looked puzzled. Mental trauma? To the point where he was avoiding people? Gilbert couldn’t begin to imagine what would cause a situation like that.

Still, it was a relief not to have to talk about Dahlia.

“I see,” he told Echo. Just as he was about to turn on his heel, the door opened with a
click
and Vincent looked out.

His handsome, clean-cut face seemed slightly haggard. “Vince…” Gilbert was about to say something concerned, but Vincent got in first.

Facing his older brother, as if trying to make things very clear, he said, “You really should forget that woman, Nii-san……”

Forget Dahlia?
Gilbert thought, but as if he’d read his mind, Vincent shook his head.

“No, not that one…”

Although he’d been about to say something, he sighed, then drew back into the room again.

Click
. The door closed.

Who had he meant? Gilbert racked his brains, but no one came to mind.

The expressionless Echo watched Gilbert with cold eyes.

And—

“Haaah…”

Seated on the sofa in the drawing room of her uncle Oscar’s private residence, Ada sighed sadly.

Oscar, who was on his way through carrying documents of some sort, asked, “What’s the matter?”

“Oh, nothing.”