Gilbert was balancing a tray with a tea set on his right hand.
At the sight of that hand, Oz doubted his own eyes.
“Huh? Gil—”
On one hand—just the right one, the one supporting the tray—Gilbert wore a glove. A black leather glove.
“I’m sorry, Oz. If I’d known you were awake, I would’ve waited for you to respond to the knock.”
Gilbert apologized, crossed to the table, and set down the tray.
Working briskly, he began to make tea.
However, Oz had other things on his mind. His eyes were riveted on Gilbert’s right hand.
Puzzled by the way Oz was acting, Gilbert cocked his head.
“What is it, Oz?”
“No, that’s my line! What’s going on…?”
Oz had been frozen, still hugging his knees; now he released his legs and clambered down to the floor with a clatter, nearly falling. He pointed a finger at Gilbert, as if demanding an explanation. Then he pointed at the right hand in its black leather glove, unable to get the words out properly:
“Gil— That! The glove! Why…?”
“Oh, this?”
Gilbert had been making tea, but at Oz’s words, he paused, glanced at his right hand, and smiled.
From his expression, it was obvious that he really, truly cherished it.
Then—to Oz, of all people—he spoke with evident pride:
“Isn’t it great?”
“No— That’s not what I meant! Listen—”
Oz was trying to cross-examine him, but the words wouldn’t come.
Gilbert reached into his breast pocket with his gloved right hand, drew a card out with his fingertips, and gazed at it. Oz could see the letters written on it:
To my dear friend.
Then Gilbert spoke:
“It’s my treasure. I’ll cherish it as long as I live.”
He spoke decisively, clearly, strongly.
“!!”
Oz was speechless.
Questions were all that swirled in his head: Why? How?
The glove on Gilbert’s right hand was, without a doubt, the black leather glove Oz had bought and thrown away the day before. And, in that hand, he was holding the message card. The present for Gilbert that Oz had planned in secret.
Why did Gilbert have a present he’d thrown into the rubbish dump? The only ones who’d known about the secret plan were Break and Alice; was one of them responsible for this? No, finding the culprit didn’t matter anymore.
More important, Oz couldn’t understand it.
Why was Gilbert happily wearing an incomplete pair of gloves, a set of just one?
How could he be happy about something like that?
“I’ll cherish it as long as I live,” he says—
How could he say that?
…And what should he say to Gilbert? Beyond confused, Oz spoke crossly:
“……J-just one glove? That’s weird.”
“Really? I don’t think it’s particularly weird.”
“It’s weird! It’s dumb! One single glove isn’t good for anything! Take it off!”
At Oz’s yell, Gilbert gave a small grunt, then nodded deeply.
He answered with a straight face:
“You’re right. It would be terrible if I scratched it or got it dirty. I’ll put it away somewhere safe— Koff?!”
Oz’s flying kick had struck Gilbert in the gut.
He’d shown no mercy.
As he held his stomach, his eyes tearing up, Gilbert looked back at Oz; several question marks floated above his head.
Then a fist flew his way. Hastily, Gilbert dodged it.
“Oz, wait! Calm down. What’s wrong?!”
Gilbert stretched out both hands, checking him.
However, Oz struck the words down with a “—Shut up!”, sulking crossly, and threw another punch. Naturally, Gilbert did nothing but defend. He was fighting his master, which meant he couldn’t restrain his opponent by force, so he just kept dodging.
Without warning, a game of tag had broken out in the bedroom.
“Why are you dodging, Gil?!”
“B-because it’ll hurt if I get hit, obviously!”
“Stop it! Don’t dodge the next one!”
“That’s crazy! At least tell me why!”
“No!!”
With no hesitation, Oz answered Gilbert’s plea with a declaration.
The shock brought Gilbert to a standstill, and Oz’s fist hit its target.
Gilbert fled, and Oz gave chase. Alice had been sleeping in the bed, but at the noise, she sat up. Dazedly, she watched the two of them race around; her eyes still looked half-asleep. Then, slowly, she opened her mouth and spoke to them:
“What are you two doing? That looks like fun. Let me play.”
““We’re not playing!””
The two stopped in their tracks, answering Alice in perfect unison. “Hmm?” As Alice gave a short grunt, the game of tag started up again, right in front of her. Alice watched them, but soon flopped back down onto the bed.
As she drifted back into sleep, hugging the pillow, Alice murmured:
“Oz, your face… I can’t tell whether you’re mad or smiling…”
MEANWHILE, RIGHT AROUND THAT SAME MOMENT.
Sharon and Break were enjoying their morning tea on a terrace a short distance from Oz’s room. There were fresh-baked scones from Pandora’s kitchen on the table. The two were quietly drinking their tea, without saying much.
Looking up at the clear sky, Break murmured:
“It’s so peaceful, my lady.”
“It certainly is.”
Lowering her teacup from her lips, Sharon spoke with a pleasant sigh. She was smiling.
The two of them returned to quietly savoring their tea.
They were nearly silent. It was as if they were listening closely to something. And very much enjoying it.
Sharon murmured softly:
“It sounds as though they’re simply playing.”
Oz’s and Gilbert’s noisy voices drifted from a room somewhere.
The voices were drawn up into the sky, and they seemed to herald the start of a lively day.
No one who heard them could help but chuckle.
~ Fin ~
1
NOON ON A CLOUDLESS DAY.
Having left the Nightray manor, Vincent Nightray reached the designated meeting place right at the promised time.
He was just outside the main gate of a memorial park located near one of the secondary Vessalius residences.
The gate was flanked by benches, one on each side, and one of the benches held a girl. The girl, who was wearing a lovely dress, was the person Vincent had promised to meet: Ada Vessalius. On seeing Vincent, Ada rose from the bench with a bright smile.
“Vincent-sama.”
Calling his name in a voice that was filled with delight, she hurried over to him.
When she reached Vincent, Ada nodded to him quietly, watching him with straightforward eyes. Her gaze was friendly, and almost dazzlingly innocent.
“It’s been a long time, Vincent-sama.”
In response, Vincent returned her smile smoothly.
“It certainly has, Ada-sama… I’m sorry; my schedule hasn’t allowed me to make time for us to meet.”
“No, I know you’re busy.”
Ada shook her head, shyly telling him not to worry about it.
Vincent spoke, sounding concerned:
“I made sure to arrive on time, but… Have I kept you waiting?”
“Oh! No…”
At his words, Ada blushed, embarrassed. She looked down a little, clasping her hands in front of her, fidgeting with her fingers. “When I thought of being able to see you, I woke earlier than expected,” she answered in a small voice.
“You were looking forward to seeing me, then. I’m glad… to think we felt the same way.”
Vincent turned a gentle gaze on Ada.
…While, privately, he though
t the complete opposite:
This really isn’t the time for me to be playing with a sow like you.
Ada Vessalius was a daughter of the House of Vessalius, one of the four great dukedoms.
The House of Nightray was another great dukedom, and when Vincent of the House of Nightray kept company with Ada, it certainly wasn’t out of genuine affection.
It was pure self-interest.
The head of the House of Vessalius, Oscar Vessalius, was very fond of Ada. Vincent planned to wrap her ’round his little finger so that, someday, he could use her as a trump card against Oscar.
Obviously.
If not, he wouldn’t have wanted to spend a single hour with Ada, an innocent who seemed made up entirely of idealistic sentiments. On the contrary, Vincent actively loathed the “light” that hung around her.
How exasperating. On top of my other problem—
Quietly, so that Ada wouldn’t notice, Vincent gave an irritated sigh.
The “other problem” was a matter involving a certain aristocrat.
The House of Nightray had always been the subject of many questionable, whispered rumors, and there were a number of aristocrats who could be called their political enemies. Generally speaking, they fell into two categories.
Aristocrats in one category weren’t pleased that the House of Nightray was ranked among the honorable four great dukedoms. Aristocrats in the other felt that the House of Nightray would be easy to depose, and had fallen captive to their own ambitions. The Basil family was one of the latter, and lately, they’d been actively sniffing about the House of Nightray.
The simple fact that the family’s internal affairs were being investigated didn’t bother Vincent in the least.
However, if they should happen to get close to the “plan” he was covertly promoting and had kept secret even from the Nightray family, there would be trouble.
The Basil family’s movements had been reported a short while ago.
Naturally, Vincent had taken immediate action.
However, although—or possibly because—the Basils were only minor nobility, they were skilled at acting craftily, and so far he hadn’t been able to trip them up.
I want to crush these unsightly flies quickly and put an end to it.
“—to me, Vincent-sama?”
Although it hadn’t been for long, Vincent had been musing, and he’d missed what Ada had said.
The words had been in the form of a question. “Hmm…?” Vincent muttered, glancing at her.
Ada seemed to assume that Vincent’s reaction meant she hadn’t managed to explain properly. “Um,” she faltered, as if trying to find a different way to phrase her words.
“I meant, could you leave the choice…of where we go today to me?”
Caught mildly by surprise, Vincent’s eyes widened slightly.
“To you, Ada-sama…?”
“Yes. Only if you wouldn’t mind, of course…”
“…………”
Vincent was silent. Suspicion and misgivings welled up inside him. What nonsense was this woman suggesting?
“‘Mind’ isn’t really the word. Where did this come from…?”
At the question, Ada blushed and looked down.
“—I just, um, a little while ago, when I was talking with some friends at Lutwidge Academy, the subject came up.”
“The subject…?” Vincent echoed.
“Yes.” Ada nodded earnestly.
“We thought it might be rather nice if ladies were proactive, if we sometimes took the lead and entertained the gentlemen instead. You’re always so kind to me, Vincent-sama, and so today, as thanks, I thought…”
Why can’t they mind their own business? What a thundering nuisance.
Vincent couldn’t help but think these things.
“W-would that be all right?”
Ada raised her head, clenching both hands into fists, looking at him as if she was fully prepared to die.
Icy disgust and contempt welled up inside Vincent. How can these women-creatures get so desperate over a mere date? he thought.
Today, as on other days, Vincent had planned on taking a casual stroll somewhere nearby and then parting.
He also knew that Ada wouldn’t harbor ill feelings toward him if he refused her proposal, and yet…
Vincent gave an absolutely flawless smile.
“Thank you, Ada-sama… If you would, then. I leave the day in your hands.”
If I spend today with her, it should be all right to ignore her for a while.
…He calculated, silently.
2
“Where are you taking me first, Ada-sama…?”
Vincent asked his question as they began to walk away from the memorial park. He glanced at Ada, who was walking beside him.
Ada nodded.
“The museum. They’re holding an exhibition of Greggs paintings just now.”
“Greggs…?”
“You’d said you liked him earlier, Vincent-sama, so…”
What is she talking about? Vincent thought.
He was familiar with the names of a passable number of artists, but this was the first time he’d heard the name Greggs.
How could he like or hate an artist he’d never heard of?
Did she misinterpret something? he wondered, but after a little thought, one thing came to mind.
It sometimes happened when he and Ada were walking in town.
They’d be on a date, but Vincent’s attention would drift from her, and he’d be thinking about something else. Once in a while, Ada would follow Vincent’s gaze and ask, “…Do you like that?”
At times like these, Vincent invariably answered, “Yes.”
He’d be simply going along with Ada’s conversation, and the reply would be completely insincere.
He didn’t remember any of the things he’d been looking at when she’d asked him that. However, this must mean that Ada had carefully, conscientiously shut them away in the drawers of her memory.
Vincent smiled, apparently quite happy.
“You remembered, Ada-sama… I’m glad.”
Every single stupid little thing… It makes me want to vomit.
Conversations that were meaningless and worthless to Vincent. Trivial incidents that happened when they were together.
Ada cherished each one of these things as her treasures, and the imbecility of it irritated him. “Leave the choice of where we go today to me”? I knew I should have turned down that moronic proposal of hers, he thought. He seriously considered telling her he’d begun to feel ill, cutting things short and going home.
Meanwhile, since Vincent had thanked her, Ada had looked down in a fit of self-consciousness.
Then, after they’d walked down the avenue for a short while…
Beside Vincent, Ada abruptly gave a small cry: “…Oh!”
With the expression of a starry-eyed young girl, she pointed ahead of them.
“I see it, Vincent-sama. That’s it, that building.”
“It is, hmm…? It was closer than I expected.”
Copying Ada, Vincent also looked up ahead. When he glanced at the old-fashioned yet magnificent museum, he noticed the sign that adorned its front. Then, as Vincent saw the letters that were written grandly on that sign…
“?!?!?!”
AVANT-GARDE ARTIST
GREGGS GILMORE
FIRST SOLO EXHIBITION
All of that was fine. The problem was what came next. The name of the exhibition.
BANQUET OF BLACK MAGIC
His whole body spasmed. He thought he might have a spontaneous nosebleed.
“Banquet…of Black Magic”?!
Black magic.
Black magic.
Black magic. That was…
That’s—!!
With terrific force, Vincent turned to face Ada.
In spite of himself, the look in his eyes could have belonged to a wild animal, but Ada was still gazing at the museum, and she didn’t notice hi
s expression.
She was so happy she was practically skipping.
“You’d said you weren’t interested in this genre, Vincent-sama, so I was surprised. Greggs always uses a magic motif in his works, and he’s raised his art to a level no one else can follow. He’s truly wonderful! My very favorite is his masterpiece Summoning of the Demon King, and today will be the first time I’ve ever seen the real thing—”
The phrase “in seventh heaven” might have been invented to describe Ada as she was now.
Black magic, and the occult in general.
These were what Ada liked.
They were also the cause of the massive trauma Vincent had suffered earlier when he’d told Ada, “I want you to show me your true self,” and had been taken to her room.
To think she’d bring him to an exhibition of paintings of those things…
—Don’t tell me the woman tricked me…?!
He guessed, in a whirlpool of confusion and agitation.
Was this a scheme to use the fact that he didn’t really remember their conversations against him, taking him to a place she wanted to go?
“??? Vincent-sama?”
It was possible that she’d felt his intense gaze. Ada turned to him, looking blank.
Instantly, Vincent erased the sharpness from his expression, smiling mildly back at her.
The corners of his lips were tense and twitching, but it wasn’t so bad that she’d notice.
Ada started, then looked guilty.
“Oh! I-I’m sorry. I got carried away all by myself—”
As he watched the shamefaced, apologizing girl, Vincent gave a furtive sigh.
If she were the type who schemed and tried to trick people, I suppose this would be easier…
However, that wasn’t the case. She was honest, purely and simply herself.
And, precisely because this was true, Ada Vessalius was sometimes a very difficult person for Vincent to deal with.
Ada watched him, timidly.
“Um… Could it be that you really…don’t like these things, after all?”
Her expression seemed uneasy, as if she was afraid she’d made another mistake.
“Of course I don’t.
“Black magic, the occult… How many times do I have to tell you not to drag me into your vulgar little hobbies?
“Despair in the face of your folly and plunge into hell, sow.”
PandoraHearts ~Caucus Race~, Vol. 3 Page 11