PandoraHearts ~Caucus Race~, Vol. 2 (20 page)

It was a night so quiet you could have heard the sound of a distant needle being dropped.

Eleven o’clock.

Xerxes Break was sitting on the bed in a guest room at Pandora Headquarters, relaxing.

He’d changed from the black Pandora uniform into his own rough clothes. He had a lollipop in his mouth, and occasionally he’d roll it around as though he’d just remembered it. Possibly because it was late, Emily, the doll that sat on his left shoulder, looked rather sleepy.

Break’s face was tipped up to the ceiling, and his expression was vague, as though his mind was wandering, lost in thought.

Finally:

“…Mm, no, I can’t remember.”

Upon reaching that conclusion, Break got up from the bed.

Maybe it had been summoned by the air of this all too quiet night: For a while now, a nostalgic melody and its lyrics had been circling in his mind. He was missing a piece of the lyrics, though, as if a moth had eaten a hole in them. He couldn’t
remember that little bit, and he hadn’t been able to unearth it from his memories.

Well, never mind
, Break thought, giving up easily.

Either way, it wasn’t the sort of song he normally thought about. It wasn’t likely to cause him any trouble.

He walked over to the wardrobe that stood in a corner of the room.

This was the room Break always used when he spent the night at Pandora Headquarters. He set his hands on the knobs of the wardrobe’s doors, opening them. Several suits of clothing hung inside.

As he opened the doors, he heard the sound of something hard rumbling down below, and several glass bottles rolled into view on the wardrobe’s floor. Break bent easily and picked them up. They were bottles of aged whiskey.

Still crouched down, Break gazed into the wardrobe. “…They’ve rather built up, haven’t they,” he murmured. More than a dozen bottles of all sorts of liquor—whiskey, brandy, bourbon—had been casually stuffed into the wardrobe.

Break hadn’t purchased a single one of them himself. Some had been given to him; others had been gifts to the House of Rainsworth. It wasn’t unusual for families with the four great dukedoms’ status to receive presents from other nobles, nor was it rare for these presents to be alcohol of some sort.

However, neither the lady who was the head of the House of Rainsworth nor her granddaughter was actively fond of alcohol. The bottles they received were passed from person to person and eventually ended up in Break’s hands.

“This may have been perfect timing, actually—”

Just as Break murmured to himself, there was a knock at the door.

A rather hushed, familiar voice spoke:

“Break? Are you still awake?”

The voice belonged to Sharon Rainsworth, granddaughter of Sheryl Rainsworth, the head of the Rainsworth family.

With a muttered “Whoops,” Break returned the whiskey bottle he’d been holding to the wardrobe and shut the doors. In a very casual voice, he directed an answer to the corridor—“Yes, yes, my lady, I’m awake…!”—and walked over to the door.

When he opened it, Sharon was standing right on the other side, still in her day dress.

“I’m just on my way to bed. It’s long past time.”

“You’re up very late—have you been working?”

“Yes, there was rather a lot of paperwork I had to finish up… I did finish, though.”

Sharon gave a small yawn. She was still quite young, but Sheryl, the head of the family, was getting on in years, and Sharon handled some of her duties for her, so her days were quite busy. This was something Sharon herself did voluntarily, and she never grumbled or complained.

“Break, what about you?”

Break answered Sharon’s question without hesitation:

“Mm, yes. I’ll be turning in soon myself.”

However, possibly because she’d known him for so many years, Sharon seemed to sense something fishy in his answer. Her eyes grew suspicious. “…Somehow I doubt that.” Her gaze was stern, but Break took no notice of it.

Sharon put up her index finger, sharply, holding it right in front of Break’s nose.

“You mustn’t stay up late when there’s no particular reason for it. You aren’t young anymore, you know.”

“I’m much obliged for your concern, my lady.”

Catching the index finger that was hovering in front of his nose, Break thanked her nonchalantly. “I wasn’t particular concerned,” Sharon muttered indistinctly, and drew her hand back. Break released the finger he’d so dutifully captured.

As if confirming the sensation of having been caught, Sharon curled her other hand around that finger and looked up at Break again. Her eyes held no reproach now. In a voice that was simply gentle, she said:

“Good night, Xerx-niisan. Sweet dreams.”

Sweet dreams.

Sharon often added those words to her bedtime greetings.

Fifteen years ago, after being taken in by the Rainsworths, waking or sleeping, Break had been tormented by memories of the crimes he’d committed as the knight Kevin Legnard. The first person to speak those words to him had been Sharon’s mother, Shelly.

Somewhere along the way, as if she’d inherited them from her mother, Sharon had begun to say them, too.

In a way, the words were like a prayer.

Even now, when Break no longer had nightmares every night.

She probably did it without being particularly conscious of it.

And so Break thanked her, and he didn’t tell her it wasn’t necessary. He just smiled, returning the greeting:

“Good night, Sharon.”

After he watched Sharon walk down the corridor, returning to her own room, Break closed the door. He put his hands on his hips and gazed at the room. “Sharon does have good instincts,” he murmured. It was already very late. However, for adults, the night was just beginning.

“…Now then, I suppose I’ll start getting ready,” Break muttered.

Late at night, so late the date was on the verge of changing.

“‘All it takes to make a drink delicious is a beautiful moon and a good friend’—”

Looking up at the night sky from beside the window, Break lifted a silver goblet to his lips. A bright full moon shone in the clear, perfectly cloudless sky.

Break had lost his left eye long ago, and by now most of the sight in his right eye was gone as well. Even with his unreliable vision, he could tell that tonight’s moon was a superb drinking companion.

“Who was it who said that, Reim-san?”

Break turned around, raising his goblet as if in a toast. In the center of the room was a small, round table with two chairs, one on either side. One of the chairs held Break’s friend, Reim Lunettes. As he tilted one of the same goblets, he gave the name of an old author.

On hearing the name from Reim, Break looked as if it all made sense.

“That’s right, that’s right. That’s just like you, Reim-san. What a good memory you’ve got. You’re so dependable.”

“You’re the one who told me, Xerx. What good is it if the teacher forgets?”

Reim spoke like a professor lecturing a poor student. In contrast to Break, who wore his rough, private clothes, he was in his Pandora uniform. Apparently his clerical work had dragged on, and he’d only just finished a short while ago.

Break was the one who’d invited Reim to come drinking tonight. Actually, for the most part, when the two of them drank together, Break was the one who’d suggested it. Reim, who attached too much importance to his daily work, seldom made such suggestions.

The goblets the two of them held were filled with a famous brandy. On the table sat the pastries Reim had brought: apricot pie and chocolate fondant. The brandy had been chosen, “for starters,” to complement the sweets.

“And let me tell you one thing.”

Reim set his goblet on the table as he spoke.

“The author who left those words was a contrary person, and I hear he died without ever managing to make a friend.”

“‘Asking the impossible,’ was he?”

“I heard that bit from you, too, Break. ‘What a pitiful soul…’ you said, laughing.”

“—My, my.” Break’s eyes widened slightly in pretended astonishment.

He hadn’t been able to remember that lyric earlier, either. He said, self-deprecatingly, that his head seemed to be on its last legs.

“By the way,” Reim added, in response.

“His cause of death was a whiskey milk punch.”

“Drank too much, did he? Was that mine, too?” Break asked, cocking his head to one side.

“I looked that up myself,” Reim answered.

Then Reim rattled off the author’s best-known works and similar things, one after another.

Apparently he’d gotten a bit curious and researched the author during breaks in his work. Break was quite impressed by his friend’s excessive diligence. That said, he didn’t plan to imitate him, and even if he
had
planned to, he never would have been able to actually do it.

As if taking a breather, Reim picked up a dessert fork and carried a slice of the apricot pie to his mouth. As he chewed, his cheeks softened into a smile.

Now there’s a contented-looking face.

Chuckling at Reim’s expression, Break walked over to the
table. He dropped into a chair, picked up a slice of pie with his bare hand, and stuffed it into his mouth. The piecrust shell was crisp, and the moist apricot filling had an elegant sweet-and-sour taste. It certainly was a masterpiece that would soften any expression.

Break gave a sigh. It felt as if the day’s fatigue were melting away into that sweetness.

The room was filled with a sweet scent and the aura of bliss the two of them radiated. For a short while, they enjoyed the harmony spun by the brandy and pastries in near-silence.

It was Break who started the conversation up again.

“And? How has work been lately?”

At this question, delivered in a light tone, Reim gave a small “Hmm…,” hesitating with the goblet at his lips.

“Well,” he murmured, then answered coldly:

“No hitches.”

He tipped the brandy into his mouth and swallowed.

Then he continued:

“Only it feels as if the employees are becoming less accurate in their individual duties. Particularly the younger employees. Of course, I caution and instruct them every time, but unless each employee stays constantly vigilant, there can be no improvement. Today, too, I encountered the same mistake three times in a document, so I ended up doing it for him…even though I knew that wouldn’t do the man any good. And then, recently, supplies tend to stay unreplenished a bit too long. It would have been unthinkable for us to run out of cords for binding documents when I was in charge of supplies. There was an issue with the higher-ups’ schedule coordination, and the start time for one meeting was delayed as a result. Contact is slipshod; there was an employee who had a business memo for me but forgot to give it to me. When I cautioned him about it, he said it was because he was ‘still in his
first year at Pandora.’ They don’t know how to listen properly. There was dust on the office windowsills… Well, that’s about the size of it. No problems.”

“I see,” Break responded. In what sounded like an intentionally bantering tone, he said:

“That last bit sounded like a mother-in-law who’s hard on her son’s wife, Reim-san.”

That earned him a “Don’t tease me” and a mild glare from behind Reim’s glasses. Calmly, Break said, “Go on, here,” and poured brandy into his friend’s goblet.

Reim raised his goblet to chest height, glancing at the amber liquid.

“Most of the employees are doing their jobs properly. If they weren’t, a special organization like Pandora wouldn’t function.”

“Yes, if we’re able to work smoothly, it’s all thanks to your support.”

Break’s genuine expression of gratitude was met with a reliable, “We’re simply doing our duty.”

This response was very like his friend, and Break gave an honest smile. Reim glanced back at Break.

“Xerx. What about you?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’?”

“All sorts of things. We don’t get many opportunities to talk one-on-one like this.”

Reim was often at Pandora Headquarters, while Break moved around freely on everything from public maneuvers to clandestine ones, and they had very few regular points of contact.

I’m probably making him worry about me
, he thought.

Break turned his gaze very slightly to empty space. For a little while, he hunted for words.

“Well…I’m getting by somehow.”

It was a vague answer for a vague question. Reim furrowed his brow slightly.

“Somehow, hmm?”

“Some things go well, and others don’t… But, yes, somehow.”

“I see. That’s true. You’re able to ask me to come drink with you, after all.”

The more troublesome the problem Break had, the less he discussed it with others. Reim knew this side of Break well, and he spoke as if from experience.

Those words also showed that, although Break issued most of the invitations to drink, it wasn’t because Reim wasn’t concerned about his friend most of the time. He was
always
concerned, and his concern took the form of “waiting to be invited.”

Break gave a wry smile; his friend was clever at his job, but quite clumsy when showing consideration.

When he moved to top up Reim’s goblet with brandy, Break noticed how light the bottle felt.

He shook it. There was only a little left. Even though they’d managed to drain a bottle of brandy in less than an hour, both Break and Reim were sober. Neither of them would get drunk on something like that. In fact, Break had never seen Reim get properly drunk, no matter how much he drank.

The heaviest drinker in Pandora, known only to a select few: That was Reim Lunettes.

“Now then, what should we have
next
?” Break peeked under the table. Several bottles he’d taken from the wardrobe were lined up there.

Considering who they’d been presents from, he knew anything he picked would be a good bet. Break stretched a hand out at random and took the first bottle his fingers touched. Break caused his friend worry on a daily basis, but it wasn’t as if he wasn’t grateful to him.

And so:

Tonight
, he thought,
I’ll reward Reim-san for all his hard work.