PandoraHearts ~Caucus Race~, Vol. 3 Read online

  The women were all carrying market bags, and they seemed to be in their twenties and thirties. One had a baby bound to her back. Unlike Sharon, his little sister Ada, and the other women of the aristocracy, there was a sense of practical, everyday life and an air of sturdiness about these women.

  The shopkeeper went over to the housewives and said something to them. At that, the women eagerly surrounded Oz.

  The woman who was carrying the baby spoke:

  “So you want to know about the Prince, kid?”

  “Yes,” Oz answered.

  “For starters, the Prince is so good at shopping he’s famous for it. They say he’s a model housewife, and lots of girls actually do use him as a role model.”

  “Why do they call him ‘the Prince’?”

  At Oz’s question, the housewives’ faces grew merry.

  “Well, you see, he does live around here, but rumor has it that he’s actually from someplace real posh. He doesn’t put on airs or anything, but he feels like ‘quality,’ you know? Like he was brought up nice.”

  “My, now that you mention it, this boy feels like quality, too.”

  Complimented as an afterthought, Oz put on a perfect fake smile.

  “Nobody knows who the Prince really is. He doesn’t talk about himself at all. But—”

  The housewife with the baby had begun to speak, but almost immediately, the woman next to her broke in and stole the initiative, as if insisting that she be allowed to talk.

  “Right, but it isn’t that he’s unsociable. If we strike up a conversation, he’ll make small talk with us about cooking and things. Quite a while back, he said, ‘I live alone, so I’d like to learn some simple recipes,’ and when I taught him a few easy ones, he was ever so grateful. A few days later, he gave me some as a thank-you, and when I ate it, it was far and away better than when I made the same thing myself. I swear, I’m really no match for him.”

  At this point, she said, she was the student, and she smiled in a friendly way.

  Wow… That guy’s really amazing.

  As Oz thought to himself, appreciatively, another woman picked up the thread, beginning to speak. “Me, too,” she said.

  “My old man doesn’t bring in much, and when I was grumbling that the only tea leaves we could buy were the cheap sort, he taught me a trick for brewing delicious tea. When I brewed it that way, would you believe it? …From the way it tasted, you’d never have thought they were the same tea leaves. Do you know that one? First, you—”

  As he listened, for a moment, someone’s face almost appeared in Oz’s mind.

  Still, he couldn’t imagine there were too many ways to brew really good tea. It was probably just a coincidence.

  After the housewives had talked for a bit, they all said the same thing the shopkeeper had, sounding lonely:

  “We haven’t seen him in a while, though.”

  “I see,” Oz said, to show he’d been listening, and then—

  “Wha—? Whoa?!”

  As he looked around, his eyes went wide.

  He’d been listening to the housewives’ stories and hadn’t noticed, but while he wasn’t paying attention, a small crowd had formed around them. What’s going on?! Oz was bewildered. The majority were women holding market bags, but he saw a few who seemed to be employees from other shops, too.

  “They’re the Prince’s fans,” the shopkeeper said, laughing.

  “The kid says he wants to know about the Prince, so we’re telling him. Any of you want in on that?”

  He attempted to draw in the people around them.

  “Oh, no, I don’t really need to know all that much…”

  Overwhelmed, Oz waved his hands, turning down the offer, but it was too late. Everyone began talking, and their voices broke over Oz like a tsunami.

  They said…

  They said the Prince could pick out the best bargain from merchandise lined up in a shop with a single cursory glance.

  They said a merchant who’d tried to pawn a defective product off on him had confessed honestly after just one glare.

  They said a shopkeeper who’d never once responded to attempts at haggling had brought down his price at one word from him.

  They said—

  They said—

  They said

  At first, Oz had been impressed by the anecdotes that were brought out one after another, but partway through he began to feel as if he was listening to legends or folklore.

  Someone had said, “A shop was jammed with customers, but when the Prince appeared, they parted like the sea.” If he took that one seriously, he’d have to believe the Prince was some sort of mystical sage.

  One young woman spoke:

  “He shows up in rough clothes, and he always wears a black hat. He takes awfully good care of it, and I’m sure it’s a memento from somebody important to him—”

  How much truth was there in these stories about the Prince, and how much was fiction? Oz had begun to take the tales with a grain of salt, but the mention of the hat caught his attention. Huh?

  He’d heard that before, somewhere.

  Isn’t that…?

  Another woman spoke:

  “He’s coolheaded and a man of few words, but he’s no good with cats. I hear someone saw him being chased around, all teary-eyed—”

  ………Yeah, I know that guy.

  It was his own valet, Gilbert, who rented an apartment in the neighborhood.

  Oz’s expression was beyond description.

  At Oz’s reaction, the shopkeeper asked, “What’s the matter?” He sounded puzzled. However, Oz had no idea what to tell him. All eyes in the crowd focused on him. At the heart of the circle, Oz scratched his cheek with a finger in embarrassment, choosing his words as he spoke:

  “Umm… I might know that person. I think.”

  The crowd buzzed.

  The women’s reactions were particularly dramatic. In the blink of an eye, they’d closed in on Oz and begun bombarding him with questions. Who was he? Why hadn’t he shown himself lately? What was his name? Did he have a sweetheart? Where could they go to see him? Et cetera.

  He’s Gilbert Nightray, a son of the House of Nightray, one of the four great dukedoms, and my valet.

  He couldn’t possibly tell them the truth, Oz thought.

  What sort of uproar would it cause if it became known that a person like that was living by himself in a neighborhood like this?

  …And geez, Gil. You’re really…

  Inwardly, Oz spoke to Gilbert.

  You’re kind of a legend around here…

  Did Gilbert know people were calling him “the Prince”? Oz was pretty sure he didn’t. He responded to the questions that flew at him hard and fast by saying he didn’t know all that much, either. The people looked disappointed, and he felt just a little guilty.

  Some of them were eyeing him skeptically, and he thought it would probably be a good idea to leave, quickly.

  “Alice! Alice, let’s go!”

  Pushing his way through the crowd, Oz searched for Alice.

  When he finally managed to extricate himself from the group, he found her. She was holding a ripe white peach in each hand, and was just about to bite into one. “Wagh! Alice, no!” Hastily, Oz grabbed her hand, stopping her. From behind them, the shopkeeper laughed generously.

  “Nah, it’s fine. You can have those two, on the house.”

  “Huh? But…”

  Oz looked bewildered. Alice bit into a peach, her face shining. The shopkeeper continued:

  “Let’s see, then. In return, if you run into the Prince, tell him to stop by the shop again from me. I lay in good stock every day just to impress him. It’s discouraging if he doesn’t drop in every once in a while.”

  The shopkeeper’s words were amiable, and it was obvious that the people of this street really liked Gilbert.

  This was a side of him that Oz hadn’t known.

  …Even today, Gilbert had been adamantly against his going to Old Town
alone.

  But.

  Huh, he thought. This is a good place, Gil.

  Oz and Alice left the greengrocer’s and began walking.

  When Oz glanced over at Alice, she’d already finished the white peaches and was licking the juice off her fingers.

  “Um, Alice-san?”

  “Nn. What?” Alice looked up.

  “………Where’s mine?”

  “Yours? Nowhere.”

  Alice’s face was satisfied, with no hint of a shadow.

  Oz’s stomach rumbled.

  A LITTLE WHILE EARLIER.

  What’s that crowd?

  In the shadow of the lamppost, Gilbert was suspicious. The shopkeeper who’d been speaking to Oz was a man Gilbert knew well. In fact, he knew most of the people who ran shops in this area. If they noticed him and spoke to him, it would probably attract Oz’s attention to him as well. He couldn’t move carelessly.

  Oz had begun talking to the shopkeeper. Then some housewives who’d stopped by the greengrocer’s joined in, and in less than a few minutes, lots of people had gathered around Oz.

  Oz was buried in the crowd, and he couldn’t see him.

  A little ways away from the group, Alice was gazing at the fruit hungrily.

  …It worried him.

  Gilbert was very concerned.

  Maybe I’ll get…just a little closer… he thought.

  In the instant just before he stepped out from behind the lamppost—

  As if she’d sensed something, Alice, who’d been rummaging through the fruit, abruptly looked his way.

  It was a near thing. Gilbert just barely managed to check himself, and in a lightning-fast burst of movement, he hid himself in the shadow of the lamppost again.

  In an instant, he was soaked with sweat.

  “……Hff, hff, huff…… Nn?”

  Feeling a tug on the tail of his coat, Gilbert looked down. A boy of about ten was standing there, holding on to Gilbert’s coat. He had blond hair that flipped out every which way, as if he’d slept on it wrong. His face looked innocent and naive.

  His nose was running, and he gazed vacantly up at Gilbert.

  For a kid from this neighborhood, he was wearing very nice clothes.

  Gilbert had seen the kid around. He didn’t know his name, but he was pretty sure he was the commercial association president’s son.

  Just then, the kid pointed at Gilbert and, without warning, opened his big mouth:

  “Onii-chan, what’re you doi—Mmf!”

  Hastily, Gilbert put out a hand and covered the boy’s mouth. The kid’s eyes rolled wildly. Gilbert bent down, getting close to the kid’s face, and told him, “Go away, okay?” He wasn’t sure he’d gotten through, but although the kid looked blank for a little while, before long, he nodded.

  …I guess he got it.

  Gilbert patted his head lightly—Good boy—and straightened up. When, from the shadow of the lamppost, he stealthily returned his gaze to the greengrocer’s, Oz and Alice (the latter with a white peach in each hand) were just walking away from the shop. Gilbert took out his pocket watch and looked at it.

  It was noon, and many of the street’s workers were out and about as well, but things would gradually calm down.

  When that happens, it’s going to be harder to blend into the crowd and follow Oz… I mean, I just happen to be walking in that direction myself, but still…

  Even as he thought these things, straight-faced, Oz and Alice were getting farther away.

  Gilbert was about to leave the shadow of the lamppost when he felt something pull on his coat.

  When he looked down, the snot-nosed kid was staring up at him, hanging on to his coat.

  “You’re st…”

  He almost yelled.

  He’s still here…?!

  When Gilbert flinched, the kid looked at him curiously. Flustered, Gilbert put out a hand and gestured at him: Shoo! Shoo! (Go away.) However, the kid just kept gazing up at him.

  If he didn’t go after Oz and Alice soon, he’d lose sight of them, but the kid was hanging on to the tail of Gilbert’s coat, and he couldn’t move. He tugged lightly on the coat and pointed at it, telling the kid, “Let go of this.” However, the kid only looked up at him and didn’t budge.

  Making his voice as small as he could, so as not to attract attention, Gilbert spoke bluntly:

  “…I told you, get your hands off my coat!”

  Maybe he’d finally gotten through to him. The kid stared down at his own hands, holding the coat. Hurry up and let go, Gilbert willed, and then the kid suddenly drew his hands in, bringing the cloth of the coat up toward his face. Gilbert didn’t even have time to ask him what he thought he was doing.

  The kid pressed the coat to his face, and…

  Hooooooooonk.

  Tha—Th-th-th-th-that little… He just blew his nose on my coat—!!

  It was practically a miracle that he didn’t yell.

  On reflex, he glared at the kid, but this was just a kid, and he couldn’t get mad at him even if he wanted to.

  Gilbert bit his lower lip. His shoulders trembled.

  “…Ugk, kuh, rrgh…!”

  His eyes were a little bit teary.

  4

  “You know, this place is a lot more peaceful than I thought it would be,” Oz murmured.

  Having left the greengrocer’s, he’d walked along, peeking into shops here and there.

  Old Town. …Here, day and night, criminal organizations battled it out, illegal goods were traded, and mysterious women were pursued by bad men.

  That, and enigmatic murderers carried out their secretive work.

  This place should have been filled with trouble like that. …According to Fruit of Uncertainty, the book he’d borrowed from Elliot, anyway.

  In the book, the detective Ivel—who, although he had an aristocratic guardian, ran a detective agency in Old Town—described the area this way. The words had made a particular impression on him. Old Towns hold all the world’s good and evil, condensed, he’d said.

  There was no way Oz wouldn’t be interested after that.

  There was no way he wouldn’t have wanted to go.

  That said… Oz smiled wryly.

  “I guess stories are just stories, after all—”

  Almost before Oz had finished speaking… Somewhere, he heard an astonished outburst from a crowd of people. It wasn’t like the ordinary bustle of the city. He could hear screams in there, too, along with boisterous excitement. Oz looked around, searching for the source of the noise.

  His eyes focused on something. Down the street, a crowd had gathered in front of the mouth of a fairly wide alley.

  F-finally… Trouble?!

  Shivering with excitement, Oz launched himself into a run.

  Although it might not have been very commendable of him, inwardly, he was thrilled. After all, this was what he’d been waiting for.

  Is it a syndicate battle, or an enigmatic killer, or a mysterious lady—?!

  Reaching the edge of the crowd, he pushed his way in, calling “Excuse me, excuse me” over and over, working his way toward its heart.

  “You’ve gotta be kidding.” “How did this happen?” “Is it a fight? No—” “That lot again!” Hearing the voices of the onlookers convinced Oz that there was a really fantastic incident waiting just ahead. His cheeks flushed with rising expectation. Before long, he’d managed to maneuver his way through the crowd to the very front.

  His field of vision opened up.

  Okay! Trouble’s broken out, and—?!

  It was a gloomy alley.

  The first things Oz saw were three rough-looking men.

  And then…

  “You first! Start jumping.”

  …………………………Huh?

  Oz’s eyes went round.

  In front of the men, in an arrogant pose, stood Alice.

  Come to think of it, when he thought back carefully, he had the feeling he’d stopped seeing Alice somewhere alo
ng the way, while he’d been looking into shops.

  Alice was standing tall in the center of the alley.

  The three men in front of Alice were standing in a neat, horizontal line, like students being scolded by a teacher. They were wearing tacky coats, and there were tattoos on the arms that stuck out of their sleeves. They were obviously ruffians.

  All three men looked as if they’d just been beaten like carpets.

  Their faces and bodies were covered in bruises.

  Wha—Huh—Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeh?!

  Inwardly, Oz yelled.

  The man Alice had ordered to jump gave a hoarse shriek; he looked as if he was about to cry. “Please forgive me!” Any tough-guy menace he’d had was gone without a trace.

  Alice snorted.

  “You people tried to do that ‘mug’ thingie to me first, remember? As if ‘Forgive me’ is going to cut it now! —Get moving. Jump.

  “If you value your lives.” Alice broke into a superforceful, dangerous smile.

  “Suh, spuh, sp-sp-sp-spare us!”

  As if they’d be killed if they disobeyed, the three men began bouncing up and down.

  Behind Oz, some of the spectators were giggling. From the conversations he overheard, Oz learned that these three were famous on the street as two-bit punks. The men were constantly causing trouble for people who lived in the area, and some residents had been victimized by them that very day.

  Apparently Alice was the hero who’d vanquished them.

  Shouts of encouragement flew Alice’s way, and some people were actively egging her on: “Give ’em some more, little lady!”

  Oz couldn’t laugh. It was really and truly no laughing matter.

  In the first place, Alice didn’t know anything about buying and selling, so how had she known about mugging? Because Oz had told her.

  After they’d left Pandora Headquarters, before they’d reached Old Town, he’d told Alice about it, along with other kinds of trouble they might run into there. He’d made his description funny, exaggerating and distorting a bit. Something about how “Mugging is a type of ‘hunting’ seen all the time in neighborhoods like this—”

  But in any case.

  He’d told her about it in order to make sure she took care not to get caught up in that kind of trouble.