PandoraHearts ~Caucus Race~, Vol. 1

by Shinobu Wakamiya

Having fled the stone chamber, the Great Mother ran through the underground corridors.

  She hadn’t understood when the sacrifice intended for her god had abruptly turned a gun on her, and she hadn’t understood how two intruders had appeared in the underground chamber, a place whose secret had been so carefully guarded up till now.

  The plan had gone wrong.

  The idea that this plan, which should never have gone wrong, had in fact done so, had thrown her into extreme confusion.

  “Why…?! Why, my god?!” she screamed, panting for breath.

  She was certain none of her actions had been mistaken. Back when her life had held no meaning for her, these scriptures had come into her hands, quite by accident, through a curio dealer. The curio dealer had said that the ancient tome was the only one of its kind in the world.

  Through it, she’d come to know an ominous, powerful being. It had been marvelous. This is it! she’d thought.

  Since then, she had dedicated her life to it, acting as the first servant of the god described in her scriptures.

  She had done what must be done, in accordance with the scriptures, and had made the necessary preparations for the grand advent.

  According to the scriptures. According to the guidance of her god.

  That sacrifice had been the very last key to that plan.

  …And yet.

  …I was so close! So close! I’ll never forgive them!

  She convinced herself that she was not running away.

  The plan had gone awry, but she must not give up. She swore to herself that she would rebuild her organization and carry out the plan without fail.

  She reached the foot of the stairs that led to the boutique and ran up without paying much heed to where she was going. …Or rather, she tried to run up, but a blow to the chest sent her flying. She tumbled clumsily into the corridor, with no idea of what had happened.

  However, she didn’t let go of the scriptures she held in her hands. She must not let go.

  “You won’t escape.”

  A young girl’s dispassionate voice came to her down the stairs. Although there was still something childlike about it, its complete lack of emotion made it seem lifeless, like the voice of a doll.

  The Great Mother looked up. Possibly because she was so terribly confused, she felt no pain. About halfway up the stairs, she found a girl with one leg raised as if she’d just unleashed a kick. The girl lowered her leg, gazing down at the Great Mother with eyes in which no emotion could be read.

  Her face was young. However, the inorganic coldness about the girl struck terror into the Great Mother’s heart.

  Then, almost immediately:

  “See that you don’t overdo it, Echo…”

  From behind the girl, something even more terrible appeared.

  “I intend to discipline that one myself…”

  “!”

  It might have been the Great Mother’s pride that kept her from actually screaming aloud.

  Standing behind the doll-like girl was a handsome, rather androgynous young man.

  It wasn’t the handgun the youth held that terrified the Great Mother. She felt an unspeakable, fathomless darkness from him that was impossible to put into words. She had the illusion that the darkness was swallowing her up.

  The Great Mother didn’t move. It was as though her fear had paralyzed her.

  Slowly, the youth turned the muzzle of his gun on the Great Mother. I’ll be killed, she thought.

  Swallowed up by his darkness.

  She tried to call for help, but her throat was tight, and only a rasping noise escaped. “……Ee…yee……”

  “You’re just a lowly mother of venemous spiders, and you dare attempt to defile my Gil—”

  The young man spoke in a gentle, velvety voice, almost as if he were singing. He cocked the pistol’s hammer. And then…

  “No, I’m afraid I can’t forgive you for that…”

  Aiming straight at the petrified Great Mother, he pulled the trigger.

  A gunshot echoed down the corridor—

  “…Hmm. I missed.”

  Vincent raised the gun’s faintly smoking muzzle. His murmur sounded unconcerned.

  Echo darted a glance back at her master, agreeing in an indifferent voice. “—Yes.”

  “I suppose it can’t be helped. Unlike Nii-san, I’m no good with guns…”

  He didn’t seem very upset. Vincent glanced at the handgun, then, from about halfway up the stairs, pointed the muzzle back toward the corridor. However, there was no one there—only a small black hole drilled into the corridor wall.

  At the same time, they heard the receding sound of the woman’s frantic, scrambling footsteps.

  “She ran,” Echo reported unnecessarily.

  “Quite stubborn for a worm, isn’t she… No, maybe it’s because she’s a worm.”

  Vincent’s voice was suffused with joy. He and Echo descended the stairs and walked down the corridor, following the woman. Either way, he didn’t plan to kill her easily. He intended to toy with her and torment her, acquainting her with the taste of agony and despair.

  The woman made a racket as she ran. It was easy to follow her.

  Finally, Vincent and Echo found themselves in front of a door at the end of a corridor. The door was open, and the two stepped into the room.

  It was an austere room—furnished with only bookcases, a desk, and a sofa—and it was unoccupied.

  There was no doubt that the woman had entered this room. However, she was nowhere to be seen.

  “My, my,” Vincent murmured, entertained. He looked around the room. Echo called his name. When he looked at her, Echo was pointing at a bookcase set next to the wall. Or, no: What she was pointing at wasn’t the bookcase itself.

  There were signs that it had been moved, and a thin gap was visible in the wall behind it. There was a room behind the bookcase.

  “…A secret room, hmm?”

  With a sinister little chuckle, Vincent crossed to the bookshelf and peeked through the gap into the room beyond.

  He could see the Great Mother’s back.

  However, she wasn’t alone in the room. There was someone else there, a very familiar face.

  Vincent…

  …regretted having looked from the bottom of his heart.

  17

  The Great Mother had fled into the secret library behind the bookcase. In addition to being a library, it was a place for her to pray in peace.

  It wasn’t a large room: A handful of people would have been enough to fill it. The library held the volumes in her collection that she couldn’t leave exposed to the public eye. …Not that any of them could match the value of the scriptures she cradled in her arms.

  Here, in the library that she’d assumed would be a safe haven, she stood shocked and transfixed.

  Her eyes were wide at the impossible sight that confronted her.

  How…could there be someone here?!

  A woman was sitting right on the library floor, turning the pages of a book.

  Who is she…?! Why is she in this secret room?!

  There was something heartwarming about the woman. She had the air of a young child who’d curled up in front of a warm fireplace with a picture book.

  This was precisely what the Great Mother found so hard to believe. This was a hidden room, known only to herself. She had personally designed the space below the boutique, and the location of this little room had been selected based on her advanced knowledge of the occult. The bookcase that formed the hidden door was locked with a code that only one well versed in the occult would know.

  The woman, who’d been avidly reading the volume, noticed the Great Mother and looked up.

  She gasped, and then—shamefacedly, apologetically—said, “Oh, I, I’m sorry! I let myself in…”

  “Young lady… How? This is—” the Great Mother panted.

  “I, um, well…” As the woman answered, she fidgeted and looked quite sorry.

  …It
was Ada.

  After parting with her brother, Ada’s concern had proved too much for her, and she’d returned to the boutique. On entering, she’d discovered the stairs leading underground. Then, since she knew her brother had entered the boutique but didn’t see him inside, she’d grown worried and gone down herself, but…

  “This cellar is wonderful!”

  Abruptly, Ada’s eyes sparkled, and her voice was bright and cheerful. It was the sort of response one would expect from a hungry child who’d had a mountain of sweets placed in front of her. Her enthusiasm made the Great Mother flinch and shrink back.

  “I was terribly impressed, and I wandered around for a while; I couldn’t help it. What a marvelous place!”

  She’d been entranced, she said, clasping her hands in front of her chest.

  The Great Mother could not have been more confused. Who on earth was this woman? What was unfolding here, before her eyes? She didn’t understand it in the least.

  Then Ada’s eyes fell on the ancient book the Great Mother held. …The scriptures.

  “Oh, that’s…”

  Diffidently, as if drawn to it, she reached out for the book. She took it in a motion that, while excited, exuded elegance, and turned the pages. The Great Mother had thought she was holding onto it carefully, but she’d been caught completely off guard.

  Flustered, she reached out in an attempt to take it back.

  “Now see here! Give that back! That’s more important than life itself! It’s my…!!”

  However, Ada didn’t seem to hear her, and as she looked at the book, her face fell.

  Then she gave a sorrowful sigh.

  “…So you bought a copy. This book… I have it, too…”

  “I have it, too”?

  What was she saying? After her initial bewilderment at Ada’s words, the Great Mother felt indignation well up inside her. It was a ridiculous lie, she thought, and altogether too rude. She reached out to take back her scriptures, shouting as she did so. “Don’t talk nonsense! That text is the only—”

  “The only one of its kind in the world. That was what the curio dealer passed it off as, at any rate, so I bought it, but…”

  At Ada’s dreary murmur, the Great Mother froze.

  It was the same. She’d acquired her scriptures in the exact same way.

  Ada’s shoulders drooped dejectedly, and she sighed as she continued.

  “It’s such a dreadful counterfeit, isn’t it…? It’s a crude patchwork of bits from all sorts of magic books, and anyway, it’s full of mistakes, and there are scores of typographical errors… As a devotee of the occult, I’m ashamed to have bought such a failure of a book— Oh! Oh, I’m sorry!”

  Realizing that what she’d said indirectly disparaged the Great Mother as well, Ada hastily apologized.

  …A dreadful…counterfeit? Full of mistakes? A failure…of a book?

  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.

  Epilogue

  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 remember
ed 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.