PandoraHearts ~Caucus Race~, Vol. 1 (5 page)

“Would you investigate this Miss Garland for me?”

One day, in a room at the Nightray manor, Echo’s master Vincent gave her a single photograph and issued an order.

Dahlia Garland.

It was a name she’d never heard before. A face she’d never seen.

The Garland mansion was located on the outskirts of Reveil, the capital.

For an aristocratic residence, it was relatively small. Standing in the woods, surrounded by trees of deep green, the modest mansion seemed a bit like the hideaway of a witch who’d turned her back on the world.

Up in one of the elms that ringed the property, Echo was watching the window of a second-story room from the shadow of the green leaves. Her face, which still held something childlike, was as expressionless as a doll’s, and
she was so quiet that it was hard to tell whether she was breathing.

Her unwavering gaze was fixed on one point.

That point was a woman. She sat in a rocking chair by a window whose lace curtains were open, completely exposing the room beyond. She was reading.

This lady, with her long black hair and slightly shadowed expression, was Dahlia Garland.

That’s a very thick book
, Echo thought to herself.
What could she be reading?

Her expression didn’t flicker.

Not that Echo is interested…

She’d begun her surveillance an hour ago.

For the whole of that hour, Dahlia had been sitting by the window, in the same attitude, absorbed in that book. For all that time, Echo had continued her surveillance without making the slightest movement, and Dahlia’s slender fingers had continued tirelessly turning pages. Echo thought she might intend to spend the entire day that way.

According to the information she’d received from Vincent beforehand, Dahlia was nineteen years old, and the Garland family’s only daughter.

The Garlands weren’t all that influential socially, but they had a long history, and even aristocrats in the upper echelons of society acknowledged their superiority. The current head of the family, Dansen Garland, was already getting on in years. Dahlia had been born to him late in life, and her mother had already passed away.

It was possible that the mansion didn’t employ many servants, either: During the time Echo had been watching, no one had visited Dahlia’s room.

“That aside,” Echo murmured, her expression as unchanging as ever, “…she’s lovely.”

Echo wasn’t the type to be easily swayed by appearances, either of people or things, yet this woman had won even Echo’s admiration.

It wasn’t simply that she had pretty features. There was a certain delicacy about her, something ephemeral, as if she might break at the slightest touch.

It could also have been the untraceable scent of danger.

Echo thought back over the conversation she’d had with her master before leaving the Nightray manor.

“Why are you investigating her?”

Echo never refused orders from Vincent, and she usually didn’t ask questions. However, as she looked at the photograph she’d been handed, she had spoken, unexpectedly.

In the photograph, Dahlia was looking straight at the viewer, her gaze listless. It might have been the tinge of melancholy in her eyes that had caught at Echo’s heart.

Even as she asked the question, Echo didn’t expect a proper answer.

Vincent, her master, was a secretive person, and in addition, he saw Echo as nothing more than a convenient tool. Echo was well aware of that. She knew that was all she was: someone who simply accepted her master’s orders, without question or comment.

…But Vincent did answer.

“Because she’s a venemous insect.”

“A venemous insect?”

“Yes. A venemous insect that’s defiling something important to me. …So you see…”

“…”

“I have to eliminate that bug.”

“Hee-hee. Hee-hee-hee.”
Vincent giggled happily. Then he seemed to lose interest in talking. As if he’d tired of speaking with Echo, he yawned and lay down on the sofa.

He’d closed his eyes, and for a short while, Echo had gazed at him wordlessly. Finally, though, she’d turned and left. Then, guided by the address written on the back of the photograph she’d been given, she’d made for the Garland mansion, heading toward the outskirts of Reveil.

Still—

As motionless as a statue, Echo thought.

There isn’t much point in staying here longer.

If Echo was a statue, then Dahlia was as changeless as a painting titled
Lady Reading Book by Window
.

For Echo, it wouldn’t have been difficult to spend the whole day this way, but she wanted to avoid returning to the Nightray manor empty-handed. Just as she was beginning to consider infiltrating the mansion…Dahlia closed her book with a soft thump and looked up. She glanced at a point in her room, as if to confirm something.

Then her lips moved slightly, and she rose from the rocking chair. She looked slightly flustered.

“‘Time’…?” Echo murmured; she’d read Dahlia’s lips. The woman seemed to be concerned about the time.

Echo wondered whether she had an engagement of some sort.

Dahlia set her book on the side table, stood up from her chair and started toward the door that was visible at the back of the room.

However, she paused abruptly, then returned to the window. She reached for the curtains, closing them slowly. Just before they closed completely, Dahlia glanced through the thin gap in the curtains. She was looking outside the window, at the elm trees that surrounded the manor. In Echo’s direction.

…She noticed me? She can’t have
, Echo thought. It had to be just a coincidence.

But then, right before the curtains closed…

Dahlia looked straight at Echo and gave a faint smile.

—“Ten years.”

It was easy to say, but it felt like an extraordinarily long time.

Let’s see, in days that would be… And in hours, it’s—

Oz tried to work out the arithmetic in his head, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort and gave up.

He sat on a sofa in an office in Pandora Headquarters, hugging a cushion to his chest and watching Gilbert’s profile as he spoke with Reim Lunettes.

Traces of the old Gilbert still remained—his curly black hair, his slightly almond-shaped eyes—but his features and his height were emphatically those of an adult. Ten years… That was the amount of time that had passed between Oz’s fall into the Abyss and his return. The amount of time by which Gilbert had left him behind.

He smokes…

That ten-year blank.

He’s gotten good at shooting…

That ten-year blank.

He uses a tougher pronoun…

That ten-year blank.

“…?” Registering Oz’s gaze, Gilbert turned.

His expression seemed to ask
What’s wrong?
, but Oz didn’t pay any attention. He kept studying his valet’s grown-up face. He gazed steadily, or rather, dazedly.

“Wh-what, Oz? Is there something on my face?” Gilbert put a hand up to touch his cheek, looking slightly bewildered.

“Yes,” Oz answered, simply.

“Huh? What, sauce from the pasta I had at lunch—?”

“Eyes, a nose, and a mouth.”

“…Hey.”

“What?”

“It would be weird if those
weren’t
there.”

“You asked. I told you.”

“Only that wasn’t what I meant when I asked you.”

“Oh. Eyebrows, too.”

“Now look here…” Gilbert said, sighing.

“And? Were you done with your discussion, Gil?”

Reim, who’d been watching Oz and Gilbert’s pointless exchange, answered in Gilbert’s place. “Yes,” he said, with a wry smile. “We’ve finished, Oz-sama.”

Oz hadn’t been paying attention, and he didn’t know what they’d been talking about. He hadn’t had anything in particular to do today, so he’d looked in at the office to gloat about it. Oz responded to Reim with an apathetic “…Hmm.”

“Gil, what are you doing next? If you’re done with work…”

“No, I, uh, I’m going to see Break next—”

“…Break?” Oz echoed, a bit dubiously.

Break wasn’t one of Gilbert’s favorite people. They weren’t exactly sworn enemies, but Gilbert wouldn’t actively seek him out if he didn’t have business with him.

Oz thought Break might have summoned Gilbert. When he asked, though, Gilbert answered a bit evasively: “No, that…isn’t it.”

Oz cocked his head to one side, perplexed by Gilbert’s reaction.

“Maybe I’ll go with you, then.”

“D-d-d-d-don’t you dare…!!”

Gilbert shook his head violently, turning him down with tremendous force.

Oz hadn’t expected to be refused, and the ferocity set him blinking, but it didn’t take him long to pick up the scent. There was something interesting here.

It wasn’t anything important, Gilbert explained, obviously trying to cover up the confusion he wasn’t quite able to hide. If Oz came along, he said, he’d only be bored.

“Hmm. I see. I guess I won’t, then.”

When, smiling brightly, Oz told him he’d go back to his room, Gilbert was visibly relieved.

As he sensed the intent behind Oz’s smile, Reim’s expression changed slightly. Privately, he seemed to sympathize with Gilbert.

When they stepped from the office into the hallway, Oz waved good-bye to Gilbert. As Gilbert hurried away down the hall, Oz kept waving at his receding back. Smiling, he called, “See you later, Gil.”

Gilbert said, “Yeah,” waved back a bit apologetically, and left.

Even after he was out of sight, Oz kept waving.

“…I really will see you later, Gil.”

He beamed.

Gilbert Nightray, aged twenty-four.

Son of the noble House of Nightray, one of the four great dukedoms.

As far as looks went, he was a handsome young man with a sharp air about him.

When he made appearances at social functions, his figure and reticent attitude stole the hearts of many fine ladies.

At balls, he received countless invitations from the fairer sex.

However, Gilbert hardly ever responded to these invitations.

His chilliness only served to raise his reputation among the women of the aristocracy.

Not that Gilbert wanted or intended any such thing. …Quite the opposite, in fact.

“Well,
well.
Congratulations!”

Break applauded. Glowering, Gilbert retorted, “…There’s nothing good about it.”

The two of them were facing each other in one of Pandora Headquarters’ many reception rooms, one that was often used for conducting clandestine meetings. To augment his applause, Break took a party cracker out of an inner pocket and was just about to pull it when he seemed to realize something.

“This makes for a nice, round thirty, doesn’t it? Although there’s been
quite
a gap since the twenty-ninth…”

“Don’t ask me. I don’t keep track.”

“Requests to socialize with an eye to marriage—just what I’d expect from a distinguished aristocrat. What a popular fellow
you
are.”

“…I wish they wouldn’t.”

The four great dukes—Barma, Nightray, Rainsworth, and Vessalius—were high-ranking aristocrats with great authority.

Many nobles and important merchants approached the dukes in the hopes of somehow currying favor. The surest way to do so was to join their two houses—in other words, to marry in. This meant it wasn’t particularly unusual for the sons of the dukes to be flooded with requests to socialize.

It had been about ten years since Gilbert went from being
a servant of the House of Vessalius to an adopted son of the House of Nightray. He’d received many such requests. However, nearly all of these applications had been turned down by the Nightray family due to the applicants’ social status and other such reasons.

That said, a few requests had made it across that high barrier and reached Gilbert himself.

Twenty-nine so far, according to Break.

The latest request, which Gilbert had received the other day, brought the total to thirty.

“There hadn’t been any for the past couple of years. I’d finally started to relax…”

Gilbert felt like lodging a complaint or two with someone.

“
My
, that takes me back. You were, what, sixteen or so?”

Break had a faraway look in his eyes. Gilbert, forced to remember past trauma, groaned.

Gilbert had made his social debut as a member of the House of Nightray at sixteen.

That year, a fever of excitement had blazed through high society.

The appearance of a dark, handsome young man with a shadow about him had thrilled the ladies of the aristocracy, and afterward, Gilbert had received an astronomical number of requests to socialize. During that year alone, Gilbert had personally met more than ten women.

Gilbert had had zero immunity to such things, and he’d immediately been plunged into a whirlpool of confusion.

Back then, the person he’d gone to for help (and oh, how he’d lived to regret it!) was Break.

The villainous schemer who’d sent Gilbert to the House of Nightray with the suggestion that they use each other.

“When I close my eye, I can see it so clearly! Your face, as you came to me for help…
”