PandoraHearts ~Caucus Race~, Vol. 2 (19 page)

“Why do you even
have
these? What lousy taste…”

“They were a present. Apparently they’re used rather frequently among the nobility.”

“Used…? For what?”

He didn’t get it. As Gilbert cocked his head, perplexed, Vincent spoke, his expression cheerful and twinkling:

“I think it’s probably better if you don’t know, Gil…”

“
!?” Gilbert shuddered, mutely.

Something it was better for him not to know. He didn’t know what it was, but just the way his brother spoke was enough to make him blanch and sink into the sofa.

The manacles—which were only binding his wrists, after all—had started to seem like a filthy “cursed item.” He wanted
them off so badly he couldn’t stand it. When, just to be sure, he asked whether Vincent would remove them once they’d finished their match, Vincent answered, “Of course.”

Gilbert felt slightly relieved. In that case, he’d just finish the match as quickly as possible.

If it doesn’t matter whether I win or lose, I could lose on purpose and end it quickly—

As Gilbert’s thoughts turned in that direction, Vincent stretched out a hand from the sofa to the chessboard and picked up a single white piece. Gilbert thought he’d begun the match without warning, but Vincent didn’t move the piece on the board. Instead, he casually tossed it to the floor.

Vincent picked up piece after piece, letting them fall to the floor, until at last the only white pieces left on the board were the king and queen.

“Because I know you probably aren’t a regular chess player, Gil…”

“You’re…going to go easy on me?”

“Mm-hmm… In return, matches with nothing at stake are boring, so…”

“Wh-what?”

The original story had been that all he had to do was be his chess partner, but then the manacles had come out… What was next? Gilbert steeled himself.
Clink
— went the chain on the manacles.

Vincent’s lips wore an angelically innocent, sadistic smile.

“If you lose…you’ll speak ill of your master. Of Oz-kun.

“That’s simple, isn’t it?” Vincent said.

“—I can’t. I can’t play chess.”

Gilbert answered immediately. He looked Vincent squarely in the face.

He’d answered without any hesitation, and Vincent seemed slightly mystified. Then he giggled.

“It’s all right, I won’t tell anyone. He’ll never know what you said here…”

“That’s not the problem.”

Again, he answered without pausing for even a few seconds. Gilbert’s voice and expression were resolute. Then he added, “Ask for something else, Vince.” “Well, well…” Vincent murmured.

“Such integrity… You think a lot of your master, don’t you, Gil… Ah, or else…”

Still smiling, Vincent reached out toward the chessboard and continued:

“Could it be you don’t think you can win, even with this many pieces gone…?”

“It’s not about winning or losing. Besides, even if I lost, I wouldn’t say it.”

Gilbert’s voice was stubborn. “Hmm…” Vincent said. It wasn’t possible to read any emotion in his response.

Then:

“In that case—”

Only two of the white army’s pieces remained on the chessboard. Vincent picked up one of them, the queen, and threw it onto the floor. Then, in tones of exaggerated kindness, he pointed out that the king was the only piece he had left.

In chess, the player whose king is taken loses. The white king no longer had any pieces to protect it.

“All you have to do is win, Gil… See? With a setup like this, you have an overwhelming advantage…”

His little brother was beaming at him, but Gilbert said, “No, that’s not it,” and shook his head in refusal. Then:

“Betting my master in a game in the first place—that would be true betrayal.”

And so he couldn’t accept this chess match.

No matter what.

At Gilbert’s words, Vincent fell silent. His smile disappeared, and his face grew cold and expressionless. However, that lack of expression held a shadow. Some sort of venomous emotion seemed to lurk behind it.

“Heh-heh, honestly…”

But Vincent soon changed completely, breaking into a gentle smile.

“You’re so stubborn, Gil… Not that I didn’t know…”

“…I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine… In that case, you think of the next one, all right…?”

Vincent tilted his head as he made his request, presuming on Gilbert’s goodwill like the younger sibling he was. “Huh?” Gilbert said. His eyes went wide.

Vincent told him he’d made several proposals of his own. They’d all been turned down, and now he was out of ideas. At that, Gilbert grew a bit flustered.

“I-I wouldn’t know what to—”

“I’m fine, you know… You don’t have to do anything at all. You were the one who brought it up, Gil…”

When confronted with that, Gilbert had no way to argue.

That said, forced to think about it suddenly this way, he had no idea what would count as compensation. He hadn’t been able to tell what Vincent really wanted from their conversation up to this point. He felt like sighing. Simply being called
to the Nightray manor on a pointless errand had been enough to depress him, and now this…

He’d meant to head straight back to Pandora Headquarters. He’d never imagined something like this would come up.

Ahh, this really isn’t my lucky day…

Gilbert remembered the newspaper he’d read at breakfast that morning.

That article in the divination corner.

Y
OUR LUCK IS OFF THE CHARTS TODAY!
E
VERYTHING YOU MAKE OR DO WILL GO WELL
—

The second after he’d skimmed the article, he’d taken a mouthful of black tea he’d accidentally salted instead of sugared, and had choked in a big way.

What
fantastic luck?!
he’d fumed.

You couldn’t believe a word of anything printed in the divination corner.

“Go on, Gil. Hurry… Hurry…”

As his brother urged him on, smiling drowsily, he started to feel a bit irritated. It was rather late now, but he was sure. His little brother didn’t want him to make amends. He didn’t want to be consoled.

He was just having fun making trouble for him.

That certainty changed Gilbert’s irritation into exasperation.

If that’s how it is… I’ll do it!

Gilbert stood; his cheeks were flushed. He ordered Vincent to stand, too. Vincent got up from the sofa; he seemed to be looking forward to finding out what Gilbert would do.

The divination article had risen in Gilbert’s mind. The article had held these words, too: O
N A DAY LIKE THIS, IT MIGHT BE GOOD TO ATTEMPT SOMETHING YOU DON’T USUALLY DO.
Gilbert was more than half desperate. He felt he might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb.

“Have you made up your mind, Gil…?” Vincent was beaming.

“Yeah,” Gilbert answered in a low voice.

And then:

Attempt something I don’t usually do?! Well, that would be this—!

Gilbert launched himself at Vincent, closing the gap between them. Just before he reached the startled Vincent, he raised his manacled hands high. He brought the ring the chain made of his arms down over Vincent’s head, his shoulders, trapping his little brother—

It was a surprise attack. An inescapably strong hug.

It was the first time Gilbert had made the first move in as long as he could remember. His little brother’s body was still slender, even in adulthood.

Just as Gilbert tightened the arms he’d passed around Vincent’s back…

“……………………!!”

He heard Vincent gasp sharply. He felt his little brother freeze up in his arms.

In the instant he was hugged, Vincent’s expression twisted into something very ugly.

However.

Gilbert, who was hugging his little brother tightly, his face buried in his shoulder, didn’t see it.

Child of ill omen.

He’d thought the idea that those with red eyes heralded disasters was a pointless, unfounded superstition.

However, for just one person, Vincent thought he really had been a “child of ill omen” who’d brought down disaster.

For his brother Gilbert, who’d protected him, been wounded, and suffered constantly.

“Don’t worry. I won’t go anywhere.”

That was what his brother would say to him, long ago, kindly and firmly, whenever he left him.

Vincent knew. He knew the feelings hidden behind those words, the feelings his brother hadn’t been able to hide completely.

“Don’t worry.”

He knew which of them was really worried.

“I won’t go anywhere.”

He knew which of them that reminder was directed at.

Those words were a knife.

They were a knife his big brother pointed at himself as he wavered between feelings of being able to breathe freely if he abandoned his little brother, and of being unable to leave the little brother who depended on him.

They had been his brother’s naiveté, his kindness, and he’d clung to them.

But
, Vincent thought. Even without wielding that knife, his brother probably wouldn’t have left him. He probably couldn’t have. His big brother wanted someone who depended on him, someone who needed him.

It was his weakness, the flaw in his heart, and, with his young instincts, he’d taken advantage of it.

His brother’s desire to be needed was so strong it could have been called a curse.

Yes. Those manacles…

They really did suit his big brother.

“What’re you grinning about? That’s seriously creepy.”

It was several hours after Gilbert had made his escape from Vincent’s room and left the main residence.

Vincent lay sprawled on a sofa. It was his visitor, a woman, who’d spoken. She had an impish air about her, and she’d casually flung aside a robe that could easily have enveloped her from head to toe that she had worn over provocative clothes with a plunging neckline.

She was holding a white cat, stroking its head. She said she’d picked it up on her way to the Nightray manor.

Vincent had the feeling he’d seen the cat somewhere before, but he couldn’t remember where.

“Did something nice happen, Vince, my boy?”

“Mm, yes, well…”

Answering languidly, Vincent sat up, turning a vague, dreamy smile on the woman.

Her name was Lottie.

She was one of the Baskervilles, a group that was at total war with Pandora, the organization with which Vincent was affiliated.

Echo was standing in the room, by the wall, but Lottie paid no attention to her. It was as though she felt there was nothing there at all, as far as she was concerned. Either that or she was ignoring her, as if she was no more than a doll that had been placed there.

Vincent continued, cheerfully.

“Someone sent me a tasteless vase today, and I was annoyed, but…”

He’d told Gilbert it was important, but he’d been meaning to throw it out anyway. It was true that the woman who’d sent it to him had feelings for him, but he’d won her over long ago and had her wrapped around his little finger. If he’d broken it, she’d never have complained.

However, even that piece of rubbish had given him a way to play with Gilbert.

It might have been coincidence, or possibly good luck, that he’d happened to be holding a vase he was planning to throw away when he called to Gilbert.

And besides…

“Thanks to that, I remembered…”

There was no logical connection between his sentences, and Lottie looked as though they made absolutely no sense to her. “Huh?”

He didn’t mind if she didn’t understand.

Vincent had spoken in Lottie’s direction, but he was very nearly talking to himself.

“I remembered… No, that isn’t quite right. I’d never forgotten…”

The chill that had run through his entire body when Gilbert had hugged him. The nausea, the violent feeling of rejection. He’d pushed at Gilbert’s chest involuntarily, trying to shove him away, but Gilbert’s arms had been linked by the manacles, and they were a solid circle. They wouldn’t let him escape.

…And so he’d called to Echo, sharply. Echo had severed the chain on the manacles with a blade she’d had up her sleeve, freeing Vincent.

He really had thought he’d throw up. All because Gilbert had touched him.

Managing a smile with difficulty, he chased Gilbert from the room, telling him that was enough. Bewildered by his brother’s reaction, Gilbert had left.

He could catch his older brother when he was running away from him, but he couldn’t accept it when his brother approached him.

Never.

To the point where he felt physical, visceral rejection.

“Today was my lucky day…”

“Oh it was, huh? That’s great! Not that I have any idea what you’re talking about!”

Lottie sounded disgusted. Vincent just smiled at her.

No, he’d never forgotten.

What filthy, cowardly, unfair, villainous things he thought he could do for Gilbert’s sake. How unforgivable he thought it was for Gilbert to touch a body as impossibly soiled and cursed as his.

Today really is a lucky day…

Because he’d been able to reaffirm that with unexpected force.

“All right, Lottie. Shall we begin? There’s intrigue to discuss…”

When he spoke to her, Lottie’s irritated expression dissolved into a cruel smile.

Vincent smiled back, faintly.

Just wait, Gil… I’ll give you a life of happiness…

It was all for that. Only for that.

A world where Gil’s child of ill omen doesn’t exist. A world where I never existed.

Everything was for that alone.

About that time.

Back at Pandora Headquarters, Gilbert was in the drawing room, playing chess with Oz. Oz had suggested it, as a way to kill time until dinner. In contrast to Oz, who was glaring cheerfully and earnestly at the chessboard, Gilbert was rather absentminded.

When I acted the way the fortune said to, Vince let me go… Does that mean it was on target after all?

Then he thought back to how his brother had reacted when he’d hugged him.

Was Vince embarrassed? Was that why? W-well, it was sudden, after all—

Thinking about it embarrassed him all over again, and his face flushed a bit. Just then, Oz spoke to him reproachfully: “You’re thinking about something else, aren’t you, Gil?” “Sorry,” he answered, hastily yanking his attention back to the chess match in front of him.

They’d only just begun the game, but on the chessboard, Gilbert’s side was disastrously outnumbered.

“If you’re
thaaaaaat
not into this, Gil, I’m not showing you any mercy!”

Oz picked up a knight, raised his hand high, and set the piece down on the board with a loud
clack.

“—And checkmate!
”

Gilbert examined the chessboard. His king was surrounded by Oz’s forces, completely trapped. He’d been pushed hard the entire match and ended up losing dismally. It was a natural result: He wasn’t good to begin with, and he hadn’t been concentrating on the game.

Meekly admitting his loss, Gilbert bowed his head.
Sounding a little disgusted, Oz said, “Man, you’re weak, Gil.” Gilbert couldn’t help but smile wryly.

He thought of what had happened in Vincent’s room and silently murmured, “I really am. …You’re right. I am. I’m glad I didn’t do it.”

At his words, Oz—who didn’t know the circumstances—looked at him blankly.

~ Fin ~