Prelude en rogue ecarlate (Vermillion Prelude)
Author: Morise Ryou || Illustrator: Juu Ayakura
──Ego sum nemo. Ego sum Legionis. Non ignosco. Non sum oblitus. Expecta me.
--I am Nameless. I am Legionless. Unforgiviable. Unforgotten. Expect for me.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Le Trouble Man (The Dangerous Man)
"I met this person right after coming into the Academia."
A voice recorder continues to record her voice as she writes in the notebook with a pen.
"I'm just an ordinary student, one out of the hundred thousand who are going to be scholars...talking about this now, I've said this before haven't I?"
She spoke while seemingly lost in thought that was called recollection.
Saying that, I looked at her apologetically.
"Oui or Non, it matters not. When it comes to writing an article, it matters not with what you write with your 3-point stroke. Just say what you want to say as you think it."
"So it doesn't matter..."
She looked a little sullen, perhaps due to the expression I gave her being a bit too straightforward.
"Monsiuer...uhm, senior? This seems a bit troublesome to have something if it doesn't matter. It may even cause trouble for Master even."
"Haha. No worries. We'll do a proper check-up once the gallery goes up. Our 'Eco de France' is a top-notch tabloid among tabloids, after all."
Neon Scalar Smilja. A girl who had just entered her second grade. She was a brilliant female student, extremely healthy in both mind and body.
And...she was one of the leading figures of the chaos that greatly shook Marseille Offshore Academia. Despite not having been openly mentioned, he was able to piece together all of the fragmented pieces of information gathered from the Academia, leading him to the name "Speculative Detective's Club".
As a contracted reporter of the popular newspaper "Eco de France" situated in Paris, the Capital of Flowers, I had to wait a full month just from the time he applied to interview her until I could receive permission from the school authorities.
"Once enrolled, you are not allowed to leave until graduation,"--with this rule having been virtually broken down, the circumstances surrounding the Academia have drastically shifted.
The high level of ability and wide range of connections of the Academia's graduates were of great value to governmental offices and companies not just in their home country but also in Europe and the United States. Up until now, all I could do with my fingers over my mouth was watch as the ripe fruit be shipped, but now the charity belt has shattered. The tacit gentleman's agreement was torn up like paper, and the unscrupulous harvest of the rice fields was about to start.
He had been keenly aware of the situation as Wilhelm Reich, former President of the Fraternity was the first to take action at a committee meeting.
A new in-n-out island management bureau was established within the transportation committee to strictly check for people's background and purpose for coming in and out of d'If Island, and a system was also put in place for strictly screening students leaving the island.
I finally got permission to do the interview and arrived on d'If Island, but for some reason, I was summoned to the captain's room on a ship that left Kadath and headed straight to the Academia, bypassing Marseille and being put under semi-arrest. This kind of treatment I got as though I was some sort of dangerous item stemmed from the fact that there were telegraphic communication received shortly after the ship left.
There is a Maurice Leblanc on the valued ship. Business class, black hair, traveling alone.
Honestly, it would have been far better to use a pseudonym in a case like this. Still, the fact that this name is so alarming means the juniors have been doing so well.
Maurice Leblanc is my name. That of the cursed man who served as Editor-in-Chief of the 3rd News Club for four years in 1902, especially in its establishment in Marseille Offshore Academia.
Ah, the 3rd News Club! What glamorous, days of nostalgia! Ah, that was my youth back when I was a student of the Academia!
When I first came here as a first-year mook, it was just nothing more than a 3rd-rate, foamy newspaper club. Firstly and secondly, there were a bunch of journalists who were either unpermitted to be in the admissions club or were kicked out of it.
But in just a few months, I and another person transformed the club from a 3rd-rate gossip club into a super 3rd-rate popular newspaper club. It was a system we created that was as flexible as a living thing, absorbing all sorts of information and rumors on the island, turning them into articles and released as newspapers in the blink of an eye. Our pen is mightier than the sword, and influential students with blemished records would tremble in fear that their secrets would be exposed while the ordinary students applauded the many sharply written articles.
It was because of these circumstances that Maurice Leblanc became Editor-in-Chief of the 3rd News Club as a second-year student.
Occasionally, they were get nagged on by the Disciplinary Police or questioned by the Public Safety Committee, but nothing more than that.
Messing with us meant the mountain of scandals and secrets we accumulated will be exposed. In other words, we were like street performers doing tap dances on the scales of the Academia's situation, where interests and checks were neatly balanced.
So when Neon called me "senior" earlier, it meant she knew of the information in advance.
"--It'll be alright, this time. Thank you very much."
I closed the notebook with a slam, and held out my right hand to Neon. She took it in a timid fashion, which was new to me.
"Um...this time, you really mean it after so many times?"
"That's right. You've seen the proposal, haven't you? This article is about the past, present, and future of Marseille Offshore Academia after having interviewed the students for several years. The idea is to cut it out and show it."
I explain with no hesitation while having a sales person smile plastered on my face.
"Hence, I'll be speaking to you several times in the future. Or perhaps even your friends, Mademoiselle Smilja."
The wary look on her face faded and her expression had softened during the interview.
I merely gave a wink at her.
"Bien! That smiling face looks the best on you!"
"Please don't make fun of me, Senior! You're just exactly as I heard..."
"Ah, that's what I was just curious about. You seem as though you're heard of me from someone."
Her expression told me that she did, and I smiled.
"If you don't mind me asking, could I know as to where you got your information from?"
"It's from me, Maurice. Don't be bullying your juniors too much."
Naturally, as I can tell from Neon's eye movement that she was behind me. It has been a while since I heard that nostalgic voice.
"I see. So it was you. It had to be you."
I spin around in my chair and stood up to face her.
"Anne Beart. You got any katsudon noodles for me?"
"The same as ever, you..."
She sighs. This was the senior rank officer of the Disciplinary Police--in other words, the highest ranking official, Anne Beart, was here.
Her blonde hair, which was already long enough then had now reached her waist. And though she was standing upright, there was a relaxing air around her.
It was difficult to imagine her as the innocent Disciplinary Officer back when we met, whom now had a dignified appearance that firmly owes up to her position and rank.
"It's been a while, Anne." "Seems you're doing well yourself, Maurice."
I gave her a light hug, which she didn't refuse. It wasn't a passionate hug made between two lovers, but that of friends who hadn't seen one another in so long.
"You don't mind if we exchanged a reunion kiss?"
"That's going to be very expensive, so I'll refrain from that."
Neon had make out of our black and white eyes as we were exchanging jokes.
Her appearance was so far removed from her current impression of her that earned the nickname "Iron Lady."
"Ah. My apologies, Neon Scalar. Even a fellow like him was from the same generation as me. It's always nice to meet each other again."
"You two were friends? A Senior Disciplinary Officer of the Disciplinary Police, and the former Editor-in-Chief of the 3rd Newspaper Club?"
That was a valid question. On one hand, she was the most powerful person in the Disciplinary Police that was in charge of the Academia's security. On the other hand, he was a publisher of a tabloid whose role is to completely falsify the Academia's upper echelons. Essentially it was like a game of cat and mouse.
However, the fact she was completely surprised by this meant that--
"I'm just as much of a female student as you are. While I was in charge of the school's peace and order, I had my own kind of youth as well."
"It certainly has happened, yes? In a past tense, that of a distant memory in sepia."
Anne glared at me, cutting me off from speaking. She, whose sharp eyes were like a bird of prey, was truly worthy of being a senior-ranking sheriff.
Anne was taken aback because of it, but she repeats back with some amusement.
"Truly. The same as ever, you..."
Jean Daspry
"Once more. It has been a long time, Maurice."
As soon as I stepped onto d'If Island, I was taken to the Disciplinary Police's HQ and was forced into an interrogation room that acted as my workplace for the interview, where we finally visited Roaring Surf Street.
I was accompanied by the Senior Sheriff. Couldn't have had any more of an exaggerated choice of a monitor than this.
"Is Cafe de Notre Dame gone?"
"Yeah. It was right after you graduated. I went there a few times, but the closed sign is still hanging there."
Before I knew it, her tone of voice was as broken as before.
Cafe de Notre Dame. A deprecated coffee shop located on Oseille Avenue in a corner of Roaring Surf Street.
The seat at the very back was our editorial club, and it was the place where I had fond memories of talking with her. She, who showed her true face that befits that of her age, away from her role as a watchdog of the Disciplinary Police. From my seat on the second floor terrace of the trattoria, I observe the students who were out having fun chatting and eating.
"...What a magnificent sight!"
"That's right. This view here is the pride that supports me today."
"You sure about that? Even the Chief of the Disciplinary Police had wound up having dinner with a 3rd-rate boozer. This would be the perfect note for the 3rd Newspaper Club."
"Haha, maybe so."
I could hear her and me laughing. Thinking about it, it was at this moment on the trattoria that we first met...
"Was this the seat?"
"I was sitting here on this same seat as you, now that I think about it. But in the seat where you are..."
"...Jean Dasprey. Yeah. He was here."
I spoke the name of another who was no longer here.
Jean Daspry. He was Maurice Leblanc's best friend, and together they reformed the 3rd Newspaper Club. And...his name was the only one to be noted as a "dropout" in the half-century history since the founding of Marseille Offshore Academia.
October is a lonely month. Autumn is over, and Winter is coming, the Gap Month.
When the smoke from the steam engines painted the sky gray in 1905, the seasons were long and it felt like it was Autumn all year long.
Around this time, there were rumors of a murderous clown that wields countless knives and attacks students who spend the night on their lonesome. Anne was facing two male students, sitting on the second floor terrace of the trattoria, her wounds not yet completely healed with an arm in a sling.
The 3rd Newspaper Club--Naturally, their notoriety reached her ears even when she was a novice Disciplinary Police Officer at the time.
These days, these hyenas make their living by uncovering other people's gossip.
These days, these newspaper ghosts would sell out friends and lovers for special deals.
The club's reputation among the Disciplinary Police was pretty consistent with this sort of tone. What sort of trick could they have used? Not only were they given permission by the Senior Sheriff, but also brought along an introduction letter from the head of a major club, getting an interview with Anne Beart who was the involved party in the case.
There were no mentions in the Disciplinary Police's official documents that she confronted the murderous clown on the 20-story scholar skyscraper and was injured by it. She was the only one who actually witnessed what happened, but since the body wasn't found, it wasn't able to be officially recorded--is what she said. Everything in the end became treated as a misunderstanding on her part, and the scars that still sear her body were seen as an accident on her carelessness.
And now she, who was undergoing treatment, was forced to deal with the mass media as if to clean up the chaotic mess. She had come here, knowing this was being unreasonable.
Surprisingly, Maurice Leblanc--a mere reporter and not yet the Editor-in-Chief of the 3rd News Club at the time, had a very soft demeanor that gave off a different feeling from other reporters who would ask questions without consideration of the interviewee's feelings.
"I just want to hear you out on what you saw."
He repeated this over and over, choosing his words carefully as she spoke and listening intently to her. At times, he would offer advice. At times, he would offer her support.
Her attitude was completely different from her colleagues and superiors who refused to listen to what she had to say, letting her guard down completely to tell the truth.
"So...it was a clown dressed in yellow?"
When Leblanc heard this, he had a surprised look on his face as he leaned forward.
Damn it--she thought to herself. She had spoken too much.
This man's gentle demeanor was his modus operandi. Once he hears the story, he'd make it into an article mixed in with strange facts, becoming an incredible article that would roused up the student's curiosity as soon as it was published as newspapers by the 3rd Newspaper Club, maybe even becoming a top news article.
Her face quickly flushed, but no longer could she take back what was said so she had no choice but to keep silent.
That time, another student who was accompanying Leblanc and played the role of cameraman and moving around her as the interview went on, took a number of photos for press and opened his mouth.
"Pennywise." "Eh?"
Such unaccustomed words that were taken out of context caught Anne's thoughts, causing her to be taken aback.
"So, did you know?"
"No...I don't know. It's the first time I've heard it."
She looked at him in the face for the first time.
She then noticed that the black-haired male student's features were as delicate's as a woman's, well-shaped as that of a doll's. Twin tubes were extending from the monocle he wore over his right eye, connected to a camera in his hand. This was a type of camera she wasn't used to seeing. Perhaps it was one where the monocle doubled as a viewfinder.
"Pennywise, or Killer the Clown. Also known as Crazy Clown was a folklore freak associated with several places in the New World. He feeds on people's fears and despairs, and likes woman and children. It's a fairy tale about a murderous clown that attacks people."
Anne leaned in this, perhaps thinking this would be a clue to the IT she encountered.
Like their modus operandi. Just like how Jack the Ripper gave birth to many copycats, for example. Or perhaps their identity. What if someone from a land associated with the murderous clown is involved in this incident?
"Seems like you're pretty interested in this. I suppose I'll let you on a little more on what I know. The Town of Derry, Maine is known to connoisseurs for its gruesome killings that occur every 27 years, where the word 'clown' would appear several times in the victim's vicinity. I read this in a magazine before of something like it happening in a town called Fort ten years ago in the West..."
He, sitting on an empty seat with a monocle, had a very skillful way of speaking, describing a number of suspicious incidents with intonations, even using body language and hand movements.
"There is an interesting story about the identity of Mister Murder Clown, by the way. I think it was about a hundred years ago where a man visited a Mesmer scholar, where he ranted about his life having no meaning and there being no hope for him. Then, the scholar replied: Tonight, there will be a show by a famous clown named Pagliacci. Go see it, I'm sure you'll feel better. But the man ended up in despair. Seems like he went so mad that he died. It's possible even that his grudge manifested all over the world."
"I didn't understand a little of it. Why is this story so necessary?"
As soon as he heard Anne's question, the man in the monocle put on a serious expression, turned his head towards her and cries out in a hushed voice--
"Because...that man was Paglicci!"
"Yes...?"
"Was it funny? I was pretty certain that you'd get a good laugh if I put it in as a punchline from all of the seriousness built up here."
As if he couldn't see it, Leblanc gave her a wry smile.
"Please listen to what he says with a grain of salt! By the way, Paglicci is a character from the opera 'The Clown' that premiered in the early 19th Century."
"Leblanc! Talking about spoilers is not a good thing!"
"About that, Jean. I'm going to be a photographer today, aren't I not?"
"Well, the lady here is really nervous. As a gentleman, you ought to give her a mental massage."
The man known as Jean let out a cherry laugh.
"...Excuse me."
Noticing Anne timidly trying to interject, Leblanc hurriedly replies.
"Ah, how rude of me! This brazen man is Jean Daspry. He's a cameraman of the 3rd Newspaper Club whom I tend to usually work with."
"Hey hey, I'm just helping you along personally. I don't work at the club itself, remember?"
"Contract club members, general club members, ghost club members, they're all the same. Generally your name is already on the club's list, Jean. It's a perfect opportunity unless you want me to help pay for your overdue club fees?"
"Wait, wait wait! Since when did our club start collecting fees from its members?"
"Oh, NOW you said our club. That means you admit to being a member."
"That's a trick, a scam! I'm calling a defense student! I'll be suing you, even if I have to take it up to the Supreme Court!"
"Is that what you want, you smug gentleman!"
"At least I'll have a tongue even if it was cut in two!"
Such was a commotion. Before Anne, who was taken by surprise, Maurice Leblanc and Jean Dasprey both engaged in verbal warfare, each of them refusing to back down. Where was the interview already going at? The debate on whether it was over or not or who was willing to pay went on and on until a troubled waiter, with a firm but heavy tone, kicked them out of the restaurant.
--That was the first time Anne met the two famous members of the 3rd Newspaper Club.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Le Comit ede la 53 (The Committee of 53)
"Hey, thank you for your hard work. You look beautiful today too, Anne. Is that a new dark shadow around your eye?" "Are you monitoring us again today? You know, being at the Disciplinary Police must be pretty boring...actually, I'd say it's hard work as ever."
As soon as he saw her face, Daspry, who threw rude remarks at her, patted her on the head and said to Leblanc, "well, that's that". Now, he was treating her like a special seat that he patted down to sit on the chair.
"We've apprehended three male students doing a shakedown on the 17th Educational Block, assisted a first-year couple that tried to enter a hotel in the Dropout District, detained a wealthy student who was drove into a fruit and vegetables store with a horse in the Student District, helping along in rebuilding the store and directing traffic. I'd say we did a pretty good job as well, today."
Leblanc continuously worked on listing Anne's "victory" on his typewriter, all without looking at her. The last incident was brought under control just twenty minutes ago. She had already overstayed her working hours, only taking over after a colleague who came rushing into an emergency with sword in hand, and came to Cafe de Notre Dame for a breather.
"So you've heard of the story so far? You're always one to quickly listen in on things."
"The incident may have occurred on the ground, but the information we're getting here is faster than it going to the conference room."
Daspry chuckles while building a tower of stacked cards. It was a complete shock to her ears. Two have already passed since she formed an odd relationship with them despite their incompatibility with her due to her duties.
The sight of a novice Disciplinary Officer being frightened by a yellow clown was now a thing of the past, now with her being a respected member of the Disciplinary Police.
Her disgrace that day made her go down this path. This wad due to training from her respected senior JJ--presently, there is an undeniable fact with the two having conversations with each other.
She didn't have many she could call friends as her top priority was the protection of the school's order and, above all, the well-being of the students.
Police and Media. The fact that they were so infinitely far apart, that being two sides of the same coin, yet it brought them closer with one another.
"Life is more enriching and interesting if you mix reality with fiction", she said. Compared to Leblanc, who was always writing articles, Dasprey was more in contact with her.
Under the pseudonym "Salvatore", we wrote a series in the 3rd Newspaper Club called Wonderful Castle View of the Academy that introduced various places of the island, often times appearing on d'If Island with his camera. Sometimes, she would run into him while on patrol, other times he would accompany her for interviews when she's off-duty.
It was due to this experience that Anne became more familiar with the geography than any of her colleagues.
There was something about him that her a bit curious, however.
Jean Daspry, known both to himself and others as a handsome man, made a name for himself by wooing female students with sly words under the guise of interviews. Once or twice, she had to be careful when he tried to woo younger students, but most of the time, she never criticized his "self-Parisian" behavior.
But it was half a month ago, when Anne was doing one of her early morning patrols that she saw it--Daspry and a woman sharing a deep kiss at the entrance of a building, causing her an unexpected shock.
This woman was wearing a bathrobe with her chest wide open, and there was an odd atmosphere about them as though it were that of an adult man and woman.
Said woman was someone she knew too well. It was Keziah Mason, a popular female instructor who treated all students with kindness regardless of their grades.
There was another matter Anne was worried about, and it was work-related. That of an odd terrorist incident that occurred in the school since two years ago.
Initially, they were just the entirety of the cafeteria's contents being replaced, large quantities rats being released into the student dormitories, and all of the desks being flipped upside down overnight. But the crimes continued on.
Even though there was no consistency found in the incidents timing or the crimes methods, the reason they were all considered to be done by the same criminal was due to a single photo left at the crime scene, that of a playing card. Although it wasn't every time, someone had used the card as a calling card to send notices and statements to mass media clubs, including the 3rd Newspaper Club. A particularly popular one was one called the 7 of Hearts, known for its satirical poems used against the erratic authorities.
Before they knew it, these "hilarious crimes" have become a tradition in the Academia. Every time they did something, the Disciplinary Officers would shrug their shoulders and say "it's those guys again.". Although Jean Jacques would have instead say, "I don't like these guys. It's like they're trying to find some way to get at us."
Before long, there was a rumor circulating among students that say it was a group of 53 people--as many as that as a deck of cards. With it came the name "Committee of 53", though no one knew who came up with it.
The rumors continued on like it had taken a life of its own until the Joker, said to be the "Committee of 53's" leader, became some sort of folklore trickster and the perfect source of gossip. They were an envoy of chaos who mocks at authority, overturning all common sense and shattering all values.
The crimes committed by the Committee of 53 have recently become more extreme. Incidents began to occur, such as bombs being planted in school facilities and groups of people dressed in black attack high-achieving students. Naturally, a playing card would be left at the crime scene.
Anne wasn't one for investigations as she was part of the security department, yet she wasn't one who could idly stand by. When Jean went away, having received a message on his Engine Phone, she thought Leblanc's article that he was writing, about Instructor Mason and Daspry, and the Committee of 53.
It was then that she noticed a kind of coincidence.
"Ah...!"
A gust of wind suddenly blows through the cafe's open window, instantly destroying the unfinished Trump Tower.
Perhaps he was writing while walking a lot. Leblanc quipped and goes "good grief". However--
"Good grief, it just can't be helped."
Now, only Anne remained. She picked up the scattered playing cards one by one...
And. At. That. Moment. She. Noticed.
It felt like the ends of her hair stood up. An acute fear of sorts that rattles one's brains when they are the first to discover a crack on the dam.
No. No way. It can't be. She thought, and checks again.
No. She checks again. It cannot. She checks once more.
Of Dasprey's personal belongings were only 52 types of playing cards. Only the 7 of Hearts was missing.
"3rd Year Jean Daspry. You are taken into custody on account of 34 charges, including intimidation, property damage, and rioting."
It was just three weeks after Anne's discovery that she called out these words to her friend.
She confided in her discovery to her superior, Jean Jacques, and launched a secret investigation. The new evidence she discovered confirmed her suspicions.
The card Daspry plays with matches the 7 of Hearts that had been sent to the Disciplinary Police just a few days prior.
Even if no such evidence could be found, the fearless glint in his eyes the moment his friend placed the cuffs on him told her everything.
--Ah...I knew it...
Daspry neither confirmed nor denied it, but Anne was convinced he was "dark". She didn't want to believe it. At the same time, he wanted to as well.
And he understood it clearly.
For her, this Sanctuary, which was a part of her school life, had come to an end.
From that point on, everything came rushing in like a flood.
An envoy that carried a summons from the Governing Council took the suspect, who was being held in the Disciplinary Police HQ away, with Anne's protests going unheard--as for Jean Daspry, he was now in the top floor of the Tower of d'If, a black spire that stands atop in the center of the Academia.
Waiting for him there in the school's greatest mystery, where only those of the Governing Council or those invited to the tower were permitted to enter, were Chairman Lafcadio Hearn and Paul Gauguin, members of the Fraternity that consist of male students, and Chairwoman Amelia Earhart of the Sorority--Seniors of the 5th year.
And, standing behind the three of them was a lone teacher.
"A pleasure in finally meeting you here, Mister Jean Daspry of the 3rd Newspaper Club. Or should I say 7 of Hearts? I'm an advisor of the Governing Council, and this is our first time meeting. I'm Professor Fredrich Nietzsche."
This man's vanity radiated through upon calling himself "Professor".
Daspry knew of this man's name. This was a man considered to be a central figure in the Double Cross plan Leblanc previously featured in an article he wrote.
For the students of the Academia, strange incidents have occurred inconsistently--that of which owners of Arts would appear from time to time fighting each other for reasons even they don't know of, and were found seriously injured.
Leblanc claimed that this sort of incident was a kind of experiment orchestrated by someone aiming to grow and evolve their abilities by pitting Artists against one another. He then named Fredrich Nietzsche, a teacher appointed at the end of last year when the incidents began to occur, as the mastermind.
The basis for his argument was on a paper on superhuman ideology the teacher once published, but since he claimed to be an "advisor" to the Governing Council, selecting only the finest of Artists, his friend's assumption had to have been true.
After all, his appearance was strangely suspicious considering his appearance.
Darkness covered the man's whole body. He wore a dark cloak that reflects the black of night, and his entire head was covered behind a round shaped mask.
Drawn on the center was an oddly-shaped stars with two missing corners and a single eye drawn on the center.
"Behold! Lafcadio Hearn, Cyclops. Paul Gauguin, Beast. And Amelia Earheart, Archangel! Though Storm and Gambit aren't present, they are the results of repeated experiments! The current Governing Council are children who have received my blessing!"
Nietzsche was a self-stylized person sprouting nonsense words that no one has ever heard of.
The other three were expressionless and hard to gauge their true inner feelings. They was no pride in the chosen ones, no pride in themselves. That much was clear through their silence.
"Now, Jean. Because of your newspapers, our plan was slightly, if ever slightly, delayed. That much is indeed a great concern! Though you may be but a small rodent, I must applaud you for having the bravado to step on the lion's tail."
"Thank you very much yourself."
"And now that the rodent is involved with the Committee of 53, a disruptive that even my insight cannot comprehend, we cannot just let you go on your merry way. A vermin who destroys our precious harvest must be destroyed accordingly."
In short, he was a man that couldn't stand if everything doesn't go according to plan. Perhaps it stems from past failures, or perhaps he was anxious of any and all certainties. But this time, he was very cautious.
"Now, all I want it to ask of you is quite simple. Tell me what the Committee of 53 is, who their members are and, most of all, the identity of the one you call as the ringleader, Joker."
It was then that Jean Daspry's patience had reached its limit. His body had been shaking for some time, shaking with the force of a burst dam.
"Ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!"
It was like something within the depths of his soul had exploded, from the tips of his toes to the top of his head.
The laughter was as joyful as that of a child's. Its endlessly, ear-rattling laughter vibrated through the very atmosphere of the hall of the top of the Tower of d'If, reflecting off the walls and floors that amplified its sound many times over.
A laugh so cold that it was unbelievable for it to have come from the whole body.
All those present were dumbfounded as they stared at the man roaring with laughter, unable to do anything but watch.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Aventurier
Jean Daspry's whole body trembled as he mocked and chuckled while muttering out words even with tears welling up in his eyes.
"Oh, the plan! The plan! You guys must love plans! Conspiring! Stratigzing! Such far-sighted, deep designing! Oh, you guys are exactly like that! Always wanting to have the world in your hands, to take control of situations, to take you your clocks, tape measures, protractors, and cutting out timetables! Ah, what a pain in the ass that is! That's why I'm always humbled by your diligence! That's why you'll be defeated! Beaten. Surpassed by my own urges, spurts, reflexes, and impulsiveness!"
Amelia looked at him, as though she was drawn into him.
"Then...we don't suppose...you're Joker...?"
"Joker? Me, the Joker? Are you still babbling on about that? The fact that I'm going against you, atop Marseille Offshore Academia means you want me to tell you about their group, size, and plan that's just as big? What a thing to hear."
Daspry finally speaks out, interrupted through several fits of laughter.
"That's right. It doesn't matter if you're the 7 of Hearts--no, the Joker. What we want to know is what is the Committee of 53?"
It seemed that he was feeling better after having caught the tail of the mouse wandering in the Academia, which was his testing ground.
Nietzsche's voice was literally that of a cat's call, but...
"Come on, really? There were no such people to begin with. They were never here!"
Daspry declares, putting an end to the rumors.
"You're saying they're not? The fact is there has been numerous terrorist attacks have happened, considerable damage was caused, and you're being held like this. Surely you can't mean to their their existence is nothing but an illusion, right?"
"Let me rephrase this: Those of you who liked the Committee of 53 never existed. No one, not even a Joker. It was just me!"
"What...?"
Nietzsche's voice was mixed with a hint of surprise.
"Well there were some amusing criminals that took advantage of it, so I took that into account and purposefully left a different playing card each time."
He wasn't sure of what sort of expression was on his face due to the dark hood he was wearing. The man then asked him, carefully choosing his next words.
"Mister Jean Daspry. As a favor, we'd like to ask you some questions."
"Oh, anything you want. Mister Cross Knight!"
It was at this moment that he was distracted by the looney ones words--Jean. That he overlooked a piece of information where Daspry knew of his title in the Society, something even the members of the Governing Council knew not of.
"Starting off, you're saying that you were responsible for many of the incidents caused by the Anti-Governing Council group known as the Committee of 53?"
"I would say for all of them! But well, it was about 8 of 10, the rest were from thieves who I don't know their names or faces."
"Secondly, what about those notices that made it to the headlines, and poems that mocked the authorities?"
"Those were poems written by yours truly, Your Excellency. Unfortunately, I can't provide proof of any of that!"
"I see. I've heard enough."
Satisfied, the Cross Knight points his finger on his right hand at the prisoner.
"In that case, in the name of the Board of Directors, Marseille Offshore Academia will hold you accountable for all of your crimes. This matters regardless if you are the Committee of 53, whether you were the Joker or not."
"Indeed that is, Professor."
Daspry replies to Nietzsche sarcastically.
"Unfortunately, I'll have to cancel my appointment with this inquisition. I have another appointment to attend to."
"I'm starting to really doubt your sanity, Mister Jean. You have been brought here, to the heart of the Tower of d'If. Surrounding you are my excellent students, who are no less talented than you. Through my plan, each of them has acquired a powerful Art, becoming superhumans that even ten of you cannot defeat."
The Cross Knight's voice was starting to become more and more irritated.
"Are you trying to be like the White Man? Excessive self-confidence is but the prerogative of youth. If you want to consider yourself as some kind of superhuman, that's rather natural and I won't deny that. But this is not the place for fools, this is karma...so listen to what people have to say to you!"
Daspry shows him off by yawning.
"Teacher's lectures are so boring, I couldn't help but get drowsy. Then let me answer your question like a student. Yes, this is the central part of the Tower of d'If as you said. If I had any plans, it would be here and you guys brought me all the way up here. That is how I arrived here in the center, where only those invited by the Tower can enter!"
"What! What is that supposed to mean!"
"That is enough, Professor. We'll take it from here."
Speaking in a grave tone was Lafcadio Hearn, who had been silent up until this moment. The weight that dwelled in his voice was perhaps his pride as that came with being the Chairman of the Fraternity, the Governing Council which stood at the top of the hundred thousand students.
"The rest will be told through your body. First, we'll give you some educational guidance. Then, we'll show you the kind of manners you should have towards your superiors."
Hearing those words, Paul Gauguin quietly approaches and reaches for Daspry's body--the next moment, the Beast's gigantic body spun through the air and is slammed face-first onto the dark floor.
Daspry's right hand, with his index and middle finger, caught Gauguin's left wrist and placed his hands behind his back, locking down on his joints.
"That wasn't so elegant of you, senior. You seem to be a painter, so you should really take more care of your arms."
There was an exasperated tone in Daspry's voice.
"Well, I have some knowledge of Oriental martial arts. This is the Udondi technique, which was passed down through the Royal Family of Ryukyu, a beautiful country in the Far East."
However, wings of Cracking Light extended from behind him.
"Your back is wide open, Daspry!"
"...Whoa!"
Lifted by four radiant wings, Archangel Amelia Earhart was floating behind Daspry. A pair of light wings extended from each of her arms, transforming them into a cooper claw-like shape that grabbed the boy by his shoulders, and threw him into the air.
Seeing this, Hearn removes his left eyepatch, emitting green cracking light that took the form of a giant arm.
Spriggan, the Art of the ruling Chairman Cyclops, Lafcadio Hearn, seized Daspry's body that was flying in the air and slams him down as though he were an enemy of Gauguin's.
"Dammit...the tempered blade has reached its limit."
Though he managed to stay passive, his face contorted from the stock that shattered every bone in his body. After that, fierce attacks were carried onto his body one after another.
"Good grief. Where did all of that bravado from earlier went, Jean? You're already looking like a polo rag."
Seemingly feeling good from his student's fighting, Nietzsche, now cheerful once more called out to his prisoner.
Even though there were tears all over his uniform, bruises all over his body, and blood dripping from his mouth...
"Ha...ha...HAH!"
Jean Daspry made a smile on his face.
"You think I would let myself behave on the chessboard? That I would be surrounded by your chess pieces, your queen, king, and bishop just to capture a single pawn? Well, too bad! I love that kind of stuff!"
As soon as he wiped away the blood with his cuffs after saying that, he chanted a Latin passage that sounded like a series of incantations.
Putting the first letters of all the words give one's the word "V.I.T.R.I.O.L.".
It was the Latin word for sulfuric acid.
This was also an important substance among mystics, alchemists, and hermeticians, who believe that through a philosophical fusion with mercury, their Magnus Opus, the Philosopher Stone, will be created.
That was also the keyword. As soon as Daspry said those words, the hall suddenly became pitch black.
The Engine Lights that illuminated the halls went out. The vibrations that sounded like buzzing insect wings constantly heard in the tower went silent.
"W-what is this? What is this! I've never heard of such a system like this existing! Your Excellency, Rosenkreuz (Golden King)...!"
"The Tower of d'If has gone silent. Oh, whatever shall we do?"
As usual, all they could hear were Daspry's cheery voice as though he were enjoying some kind of joke only he could understand.
"Interesting. I wonder how far Jean Daspry and friends will go!"
Self-answering, seeking no answers from anyone present, a piercing ego. Indeed, Jan Daspry was no more than a mouse. However, he was a majestic rat that could make Mt. Tai shake.
Then, as though it were responding to the voice, a number of purple spots of light appeared in the center of the hall, where a synthesized voice echoed in rythm.
--Sunt vos an Adventurer? (Are you an Adventurer?)
That was the question asked by the administrator, who had been slumbering behind the door of the Tower of d'If's machine for a long time.
Daspry looked on as though it were obvious, and answered the question in broken Latin, as if he knew the answer beforehand.
--"Nemo est non. (Nobody isn't)"
Aiming for the direction where the voice came from, the Archangel's six light wings joined together one after another, forming a gigantic whip that struck Daspry on the side. There was a solid response yet despite spitting blood from his mouth, Daspry still smiles playfully.
He then dodges to the side from a green optic blast from Cyclops that was aiming for him.
--Es vos qui transit in catadupa nomine Danger, vultus nam veritas legend trans ibi? (Are you one who goes through the waterfall called Danger, seeking the truth of the legend behind it?"
--"Nemo est non. (Nobody isn't)"
Questions and answers repeated again and again. In the midst of the flickering and rotating slowly emerges the figure of Jean Daspry.
Before he knew it, he had back on his favorite monocle, radiating a reddish-black light as though it were alive.
--Si, me interrogoes. (Then seek me.)
There was a crashing sound.
The faces of the three members of the Governing Council were ones of surprise. It was natural as, at that moment, their Art suddenly vanished!
However, the title of being at the top of the hundred thousand students wasn't just for show.
"You're wide open, Daspry!"
Gauguin lets out a fierce cry and rushes towards Daspry with the force of a cannonball. Even if he couldn't use his Art, he could still use CQC--is what he judged.
The slender man was blown away without a hitch, rolling across the floor with a huge thud. He was likely hit square in the face when he landed, as blood trickled down the lower half of Daspry's face.
"Brava! I knew you were so good at rugby, senior! But--"
There was another crashing sound again. Again, the tower begins to vibrate. Something different from the system that granted Art to selected students was activated.
"You flew me into a great spot. For that, I thank you."
Daspry staggered up to his feet and leaps onto the circle of light drawn in the center of the hall.
"I'll be taking my time here. You guys can spend as much time as you like here to plot and scheme!"
The circle of light dries up and stretches into a column shape, with the floor with Daspry on it sinking like an elevator.
"With that I bid you farewell, Lady and Gents of the Governing Council! And to you, Mister Cross Knight Fredrich Nietzsche! Say hi for me if you ever meet the real Professor!"
Jean Daspry's entire body was suddenly swallowed into the floor, leaving behind the three Governing Council members who had lost their Art, and the Cross Knight, who was trembling with humiliation.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Le Creuse Grande (The Great Cavern)
"Swans can swim so gracefully on the surface of the water, but flap uncontrollably underwater. It's so hard being cool...ow, don't touch that. It'll make the bone pop out."
"Yes, yes."
Soft Cracking Light moved all over his body as if they were caressing it, which was literally like a rag that was covered in bruises and scars, and was healing the damaged parts.
Next to Jean Daspry, who was full of energy was Florence Nightengale, a first-year of the Sorority. They were in a space that looked to be a landing just before the very bottom of the Tower of d'IF.
Nicknamed Storm, her diverse Art included the ability to heal. Nietzsche's plan to have Artists fight each other caused her to feel pain as more and more people got injured, so she healed the injured victims in secret. Her courageous act made Hearn and the other members of the Governing Council choose this act.
In other words--To rebel against Nietzche, Hunting Dog of the Society.
"Well. Even if I knew the healer would come for me, it was pretty tough to get hurt so one-sidedly like that. Ah, what a joke."
Ten minutes had passed since Cyclop's execution and reboot of the Tower of d'If, causing their Art to come back. However, since the tower's system was connected to the Academia's Mega Engine, unprecedented chaos should be brewing by now.
Now, he was a terrorist who had threatened the school in both name and truth.
"That was just too unreasonable. My seniors...even you, Senior Jean."
"Thank you, Florie. This just made things a whole lot easier for me." "You're welcome."
Florie was a nickname given to her by Jean Daspry, her eccentric senior.
It was two months ago when Daspry made contact with the Governing Council. Based on the data collected by second-year member, Gambit Wilhelm Reich, Hearn and the others analyzed the site where the 7 of Hearts playing card was left and the location of the article Wonderful Castle View of the Academy was connected to sear in Daspry's existence.
There was a fierce fight. Daspry had also used his Art sparingly and when there were little signs of injury on both sides, it was Cyclops who offered a truce.
He realized that Daspry's plans could go somewhere, and requested him for his cooperation in getting Nietzsche's group out of there.
Since he pulled out the insect out of the lion's body and then shut down the central engine, even the Cross Knight couldn't escape being held accountable.
"But wouldn't this also you mean you get held accountable?"
When asked this question, the three members answered this question confidently.
"The three of us will be retiring altogether, of course. I'll be retiring to the Research Club from here on, and watch over the school's future. Reich, Nightengale, and all of the rest, you bright youths will be able to figure it the rest!"
Reich was so troubled by this that he almost gave up, but Gauguin motivated him to take over the job albeit reluctantly.
Because of the unforeseen circumstances of Daspry's arrest, they were forced to make a sudden decision. Reich was currently running around the school, trying to quell the chaos. And there was one another thing...
"Our cooperation ends here. By now, the Disciplinary Police Security Force that Reich brought into the tower will be heading underground. And the one leading the assault is..."
"I know. It's likely her."
Daspry said in a confident voice as he slipped into the sleeves of a uniform she granted him to change into.
"Good, you're all dressed up now! I brought you this uniform to commemorate this occasion today. Do please put on the second button."
"Seems like you're leaving. Truly, I wish someone like you cooperated with us..."
Even though it was a bitter smile, those were her true feelings.
"I guess I won't be able to read Senior Jean's articles anymore."
"Nightengale. The name of a cute small bird, yet also that of a stormy night. Truly, it fits you. Just as you have your path, I have mine. Well, mine's not as radiant as yours. But that depends on the roll of a dice."
He opens up the camera that he entrusted to his junior, and takes out a black jewel from inside--a Trapozohedron with ancient Egyptian numbers written on each side. The camera was a custom-made gadget created by Doctor Pi of the 2nd School of Advanced Science to pair with the monocle.
"This is a black jewel called the Shadow of Death during the Dark Dynasty. It was obtained by a man who once fought with the Prince of Bundelkhand against the East India Company, long before the Academia was founded. Now, behold--"
A reddish-black light emitted from the 24-sided object he held, concentrating into a single beam of light that struck a point on the floor.
"This one matches the Queen Emeraldas--the Emerald Tablet that I've been searching for a while. I couldn't find it for a while due to interference with the Tower of d'If's system. But now, I'm finally able to connect to it."
His eyes sparkled like an innocent child staring at the light--may your path, too, also have radiance, senior...was what Nightengale never said to him.
"Yo. I knew you'd come this far."
"Like I said all the time: This place has got so many beautiful landmarks!"
The Disciplinary Police's task force descended into the underground of the Tower of d'If, scattering all over the complex labyrinth-like catacombs in search of the fugitive.
What caught her eye was a mark--that of a drawn woman in white half on the wall. It was the symbol of Cafe de Notre Dame.
Forgetting to call over her colleagues, she follows the mark intently. And now, in a large cavern under the Island of d'If was her and him--a man and a woman who once called themselves friends, now stood face-to-face.
The Island of d'If became a huge man-made island after its surroundings were reclaimed. The deepest part of the old island had dome-shaped ceilings and walls that were approximately 30 meters high, covered in solid rock, and had basalt pillars standing here and there on the surface of the water where seawater enters, creating a landscape that resembles an underwater lake.
In the midst of it all was a long, spindle-shaped machine--or rather, a ship armored completely in steel including the top of the hatch.
There were several windows in the front that looked like an insects eyes, allowing the glow of the Queen Emeraldas, the source of the ship's secret, to radiate through.
"I see. So your purpose was this ship, Jean."
"That's right. The 7 of Hearts was a secret by the Secret Intelligence Service in France, the all-purpose submarine, the Nautilus that was used by a certain organization against the East India Company!"
Jean Daspry: Photographer and Reporter of the 3rd News Club.
Anne Beart: Watchdog of the Disciplinary Police's Security Dept.
They met on opposites. They, who had developed a friendship over a long period of over 200 days, now meet in positions that threaten/protect the school's order and peace. Anne, standing over the pier, aimed her impact gun loaded with rubber bullets at Daspry, who was standing atop at the top hatch of the submarine.
"The Secret Intelligence Service...so you were a spy for your country?"
"Not quite. It's a complicated story. All I was asked by the great people in my country was to find the blueprints on this guy. I found them a long ago and submitted it...but I was convinced for a while that there was something here on this island and for that, I had to make sure those exploration requests were sent to me that I had set up quite a lot for. Ah, and don't worry. Even if you built it according to the blueprints, this thing won't move. Because the essential piece that is the Queen Emeraldas is missing that it won't ever be used for war."
"Then...who are you?"
"Me? I am the embodiment of the Seven Deadly Sins. The personification of greed, the desire for knowledge, and all kinds of wishes. In this age of Mega Engines, I can't help but want everything."
Daspry held up his monocle without changing his teasing tone. His eye, just like Governing Council students, was of a golden radiance. As for Anne, her body trembled as sweat rolled down on it. Her face had on an expression that was neither anguish nor resentment.
"You're speaking nonsense...! Then, was I just a part of your plan? To uncover something like this, you used me, a Disciplinary officer...!"
It was a blood-curdling scream. For the first time ever, the teasing color in Daspry's face vanishes. Rather, it was more like confusion.
"You're too good for me to ask you in believe this. True, I did use the 3rd Newspaper Club to investigate paranormal phenomena as a cover...but then I met you by chance. It was a kind of work that I used to kill time at first, but I had so much fun hanging out with you and Maurice."
Anne's face became even more distorted Feelings of doubt and wanting to believe in him fought fiercely within her.
"I just don't know what else to say because I never had a school life before. Every day, it was like a movie to me. For the first time in my life, I was able to live as a normal kid."
"Then...why...you traitor!"
Her words, however, never reached Daspry.
Perhaps in response to the trapezohedron in his hand. machine sounds started to echo around him. The steel coffin, which had slumbered for a long time, began to rouse up.
"Anne!"
Jean Jacques's voice echoed through the cave's entrance. He must have followed after her. His eye caught the sight of a male student with the same first name as him right as he was about to get into the hatch.
"Jean Daspry, you!"
When she aimed her shock gun at him and placed a finger on the trigger--
"Stop!"
Anne's crying voice reached Jean Daspry's ears.
There was an unknown cry. The Steel Leviathan let a cry.
It may have been Jean Daspry's farewell from Marseille Offshore Academia, or perhaps it may have been to her.
The submarine sinks to the bottom of the water, as it emits a plume of water, becoming the last farewell of the man named Jean Daspry.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Votre Nom (Your Name)
"So you were in a place like this..."
In a Speakeasy in a corner of the Dropout District, Jean Jacques found his junior. She, whose beautiful hair was like a river of gold had become dull, and her whole body was in such a haggard color that even makeup couldn't cover it up.
The heart of the school, the Mega Engine, had stopped for ten minutes, of which the fifth years of the Governing Council took responsibility--half a year had passed since that big incident that engulfed the entire Island of d'If, and the memory of it was also changing if not already fading.
Anne had investigated on her own regarding the truth of the incident since, even submitting her leave of absence to the Disciplinary Police and not attending any of her classes.
Occasionally, her envelopes to JJ were filled with investigative reports that traced back Daspry's footsteps dating all the way back to the day he vanished a year prior. It had proven that nearly 20% of the incidents linked to him that resulted in injuries or damages to school facilities could not be linked to him. However, on this day, JJ had something else to tell her.
"...Expulsion...?" "Yes. A special case among special cases."
The document he brought along with him was a decree by the Board of Directors stating that Jean Daspry was expelled from the Academia and permanently removed from the school's registry.
"When I did an inquiry on their home country, there was no such person named Jean Daspry. As for how he managed to enter into the school, it seems like the governmental officials from the country were involved..."
"Expelled...Jean..."
JJ's words did not reach Anne's ears. She simply sat there, staring at the name clearly written on the document.
Seeing her like this, he decided to leave her be for a while until he felt the weight of a human placed on his back.
"Excuse me, senior...could you lend me your back for a while?"
"...It's fine. If you want to use my back like this, I can lend you as much as you want."
There was no response. The trembling he felt from her shows she was clearly tearing up.
"Senior...is there still a place for me in the Disciplinary Police...?"
"Yes, of course. You can come back anytime you wish."
Her words, while coming out a little incoherent, were but a strong oath.
"I won't...let anyone else be...expelled from the school. Ever."
Many months have passed since and here we are now, at a trattoria in 1909.
Me and her, Anne Beart, were reminiscing about the past.
"And not one person was ever dropped out on your death. It's amazing. Not only just France, but many European police organizations would be envious of your abilities."
"...I didn't want to feel like that again. You're a complete sinner, making me suffer like that."
I was completely taken aback by her words, like she took my heart in her hands.
Feeling sweat rolling down my whole back, I mustered up all of my strength to smile in showing I wasn't faltering.
"Whatever do you mean from me? Why say that?"
But it didn't work. This time, Anne Beart was the one to show me a grin.
"You think I wouldn't realize it? Jean Daspry. Nay, I guess that wasn't your true name. You could disguise the shape of your face, your height, voice, and those eyes of yours...but the way you act so cheeky, selfish, brazen...and loving nothing more than to surprise people...you still haven't changed. You're still the same brat as you were back then."
I wordlessly raised my hands to her. It was a complete surrender.
I canceled my Art and removed the colored contact on my right eye.
Then there was the fact that my appearance, while differing in details, bore the appearance of the man once called Jean Daspry--the true form that was me.
There was no sense of regret or anything like that. This still proved that she was a special someone to me.
That was my Art, Nemo. A mimic ability that shows the other the image you want to show to them. This was made perfect for my originally possessed skills I had for disguising and acting.
However, that very same ability was also my Art's greatest weakness.
"To show the other person the way I want to show myself."--in other words, it reflected my desire for the person I fall in love with to know the real me. When she heard my explanation, she was impressed.
"I see. With that kind of ability, it's no wonder you were able to survive a fight with multiple members of the Governing Council, including Senior Hearn."
I was completely scared. Seems like her source of info came from Florie.
It was like a child being told of a prank by their parents, and I couldn't make a noise. Oh, how I love you so much!
We then talked about what happened after "that".
Anne ended up repeating a year. In order to get some information, she met with the Governing Council many times where she became friends with Florence Nightingale. She even contacted Maurice Leblanc, who successfully graduated from the Academia and we met in Paris again.
He had taken a leave of absence from his work at a newspaper company to make a report on his novel writing when he left for Kadath, and we haven't heard from him since.
"By the way, what happened with you and Teacher Mason? I was wondering if she was your...uhm, lover?"
"Ah, Mama Josine? She's my mother."
Eh?, Anne exclaimed in surprise. You'd be surprised. I, too, was shocked when I saw that person enter our first class.
Well putting it simply, we were like in a relationship of in-law's unrelated by blood so it couldn't be helped that no one knew. And looking at it that way, it was no different from ramen.
Keziah Mason. Or Josephine Balsamo. Countess Cagliostro. Imitating the god she serves, she took me in as an orphan and taught me everything she knew, both good and bad. Though I'm ashamed to say that my virginity was taken from my body by her.
I was very immature as a parent at the time. My son, whom I thought I raised with great care, had turn out to be such a terrible delinquent.
Mom had confessed and apologized to me while I was in bed, exhausted, on the night of that unexpected reunion.
So you do work as a teacher?
It's just the way things have become for me.
Even though it took however long to get over my mother's chest, I was still a brat.
"I guess we'll be hearing stories like that later. Anyways, I'm off-duty today luckily so why don't we get a drink to celebrate our reunion?"
"Understood, Mademoiselle."
Despite having separated as enemies, we were still able to meet as friends in the school where we spent time together.
They say fate can be tricky like that sometimes.
"Ah, before that--"
She leans in closer, her blond hair tickling my cheek.
"Mind telling me your real name this time?"
That, I had no objections to. For friends, it wasn't good to hide things from them.
"Arsene Lupin. It's a very common name."
(Fin)
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