A/N:
Hello everyone, I hope you are all well. We continue with the publication of the chapter. I hope you are enjoying how things are developing so far. With the chapters published so far, some of you should know what is really going on. See you in another publication!
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Chapter 51: Festival of the Bizarre and the Macabre
[Kaoru POV]
The sound of drops seeping through the stone ceiling had become a constant headache, a rhythmic hammer beating against his temples.
How many hours had he been locked in there?
Kaoru's eyelids felt heavy, each blink an effort. He had lost track of time, trapped in that eternity of dampness and darkness.
He was leaning against a mossy stone wall, the cold seeping into his bones, while thick, heavy metal bars reminded him of the futility of any attempt to escape. At the other end of the corridor, other figures, human and Demihuman, blurred silhouettes in the gloom, moaned or growled, adding to the gloomy chorus of the place. The constant sensation of the metal collar around his throat was a physical reminder of his powerlessness, an oppression that robbed him not only of his magic but also of his vitality.
He looked at Johan, who seemed to be in a restless sleep on the other side of the cell. The swelling around his eye had worsened, a deep purple bruise covering part of his gaunt face. They had both been beaten, there was no doubt about that.
"Today must be the start of the festival, maybe in a few hours," Kaoru said to himself, his voice a barely audible whisper in the silence broken by distant moans. There really wasn't much to think about or do in that situation. He couldn't use magic, he had lost too much blood from the blows, and he felt a couple of broken bones that prevented him from moving easily. The putrid smell of the cell, a nauseating mixture of urine, mold, and something indistinct that reminded him of rotting flesh, was slowly making him sick.
---
Hours Earlier
A few hours earlier, in the same desperate immobility, a sharp, heart-wrenching scream had echoed from some distant corridor, a sound that was not human and yet carried the weight of unbearable suffering. Kaoru had shuddered, feeling his stomach churn.
Johan, unperturbed, had let out a dry sigh, almost a cough. "Ah, the music of prison. Always so... eloquent."
Kaoru had glanced at him sideways, his headache still throbbing. "Prison music, you say. It sounds more like a slaughterhouse."
"The distinction is often minimal in these circumstances," Johan had replied in a monotone voice, devoid of emotion. There was a deep resignation in it, that of someone who had already accepted his fate. "The chroniclers of the Great Demihuman War in the Lugunica chronicles often described the 'song of the condemned Demihumans' in their cells. They said that fear and pain had a particular, unmistakable timbre. That's what we hear now."
Kaoru frowned. The Great Demihuman War? This guy is a historian even in these circumstances. Too calm for my taste." He rubbed his temples. "A song... so they just enjoy watching us suffer?"
"That is often the case," Johan had confirmed, his gaze still lost on the wall, as if he were remembering something. "Or they simply enjoy the power that annihilation grants. Great historical events, the ones that truly change the course of kingdoms, are rarely clean. There is always blood, there are always screams, there is always a display of the power that executes them." He had paused, and a chill had run down Kaoru's spine. "It's their own kind of spectacle, I suppose. And we are the unwitting actors."
The idea of a "show" had resonated with Kaoru. Immediately, his mind had traveled to a dark corner of his own world.
"It's like... a Grand Guignol," Kaoru had muttered, more to himself than to Johan, a blurred memory of macabre images from plays that sought to horrify, blood and fear as entertainment. "A theater of the grotesque, right? The audience pays to see suffering."
Johan tilted his head slightly, his one functioning eye fixed on Kaoru for a moment. "A 'Grand Guignol,' you say. I'm not familiar with that theatrical term." His tone was not mocking, but genuinely curious. "But the idea of a 'theater of the grotesque'... is accurate. Throughout history, many 'justices' and demonstrations of power were performed publicly and brutally. People came, they watched. Not for pleasure, perhaps, but for the lesson, or for the catharsis of shared fear."
"No, it's not a lesson," Kaoru had snapped, shaking his head, the image of blood and gore on stage in his real world making him nauseous. "It's pure morbid curiosity. Enjoying the suffering of others. When the audience applauded the gore... ugh." He had shuddered. "It's the ugliest part of being human."
Johan let out a small snort, almost a dry, humorless laugh. "And you've seen it, I suppose? In your world." His eye narrowed, curiosity back in his voice. "It's fascinating how human cruelty seems to transcend any culture or era. It seems that man has an insatiable appetite for his own misfortune. Some to inflict it; others to witness it."
Kaoru leaned back against the cold wall, the weight of the collar and the conversation beginning to exhaust him more than the physical pain. "Yes, I suppose so. Some call it art, others... I call it shit."
Another muffled but equally heart-wrenching scream had echoed again. This time, it was Kaoru who had flinched.
"The curtain has barely risen, don't you think?" Johan had murmured, his voice returning to its fatalistic tone. "And we're in the front row."
---
Present
The echo of those words seemed to still resonate in the cell as Kaoru returned to the present. The moans and usual noise of the prison, which had faded from his consciousness during the conversation, once again invaded the silence.
Suddenly, footsteps could be heard in the distance, distinguishable from the ambient noise. They were not the usual metallic sound of militia boots, nor the cries of other prisoners or the sounds of clear violence being carried out. They were lighter footsteps, but with a deliberate cadence. Footsteps, it seemed, from a single person.
The footsteps slowly approached, echoing louder and louder in the narrow corridor of cells. Until the figure appeared: a young, slim man with carefully combed dark blond hair and a pair of thin glasses that glinted in the dim light. He was dressed in clothes that, even in the dim light of the dungeon, revealed the quality and cut of a nobleman.
The man slowly passed by the cell where Kaoru and Johan were. Kaoru watched him with a mixture of curiosity and caution, his mind trying to process the presence of someone like that in a place like this. His appearance seemed out of place, almost pristine amid the misery. The nobleman gave him a brief, almost disinterested glance through the bars before leaving his field of vision. The footsteps began to recede, the sound diminishing until it disappeared again into the stone labyrinth.
A few moments of silence passed, only the constant dripping and distant moans. Kaoru, with a heavy sigh, realized that Johan was awake. His only functioning eye was open, staring at some undefined point on the wall, just as before, as if he had never slept.
Kaoru was about to fall asleep again, the constant dripping and stench of the cell dragging him into unconsciousness. His eyelids felt like lead, but just before they closed completely, he saw something out of the corner of his eye. The same figure of the nobleman from before was back, apparently leaving. But this time, he had something in his arms. He had the grimoire. His grimoire. In his hands.
Kaoru's eyes flew open, his fatigue instantly dissipating, replaced by a surge of rage. He jumped to his feet, the collar scraping his throat.
"Hey! What do you think you're doing!? That grimoire is mine!" he shouted loud enough that the nobleman, already several steps away, would undoubtedly have heard him.
Johan, who had been motionless, slowly turned his face, his only functioning eye fixing on the scene unfolding before him.
Kaoru approached the bars, clinging to them tightly as he stared at the blond nobleman with a look that promised trouble. His anger was a fire burning through his exhaustion.
In the distance, Lucien stopped walking and glanced sideways at Kaoru.
"You say it's yours? How interesting," Lucien said, his voice resonating with a calmness that Kaoru found mocking.
" 'Grimoire,' you say. What a picturesque term for a diary. Also interesting."
Lucien added, his gaze becoming more intrigued and intense toward Kaoru the more he spoke, turning to face him.
"I wondered how something like this would end up in this place. I couldn't believe it. Not for a second," Lucien continued, his voice dripping with feigned amazement.
"It's so surreal. So improbable..." He let his words trail off into the air.
"Why do you say it's yours?" Lucien asked, inviting Kaoru to speak.
Johan, from his position on the cell floor, watched intently with his good eye, not missing a detail of the unusual confrontation.
Kaoru clenched his jaw, feeling the burn of contained anger. "I'm sure when you opened it, you didn't understand a word it said."
Lucien remained silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on Kaoru's face, studying him.
"You're right"
Lucien replied, his previous indifference transforming into something much more dangerous. His smile grew sharper.
"I didn't understand a single word of what was written there. It was just a scribble of distorted, illegible letters."
"It was obvious you wouldn't understand a damn thing, because it's not yours," Kaoru replied with a mocking, defiant smile. "Besides, why do you want the grimoire? And why do you call it a diar—?"
Before Kaoru could finish the question, a blade of wind whizzed past his face at sonic speed, leaving a superficial cut on his cheek and left ear. The invisible cut traveled through the air before hitting the wall behind him, producing a dull thud and scattering dust before leaving a deep, gash-shaped crack.
Lucien didn't even bother to change his posture. His hand, which a moment before had been holding the grimoire indolently, opened toward Kaoru with chilling naturalness.
"I'm the one asking the questions here."
"So I'll ask you. Do you know Natsuki Subaru?" Lucien asked, watching Kaoru's every movement, looking for a reaction.
Kaoru clenched his teeth, trying not to show any emotion, but he felt his pupils contract when he heard that name. The burning sensation on his cheek was nothing compared to the chill that ran down his spine.
Subaru? What the hell did that idiot tell him? And why is this bastard involved in all this?
"So it was you... who was carrying the diary. Just as he told me," said Lucien, still staring at Kaoru. His smile widened, but there was no warmth in it.
Him? Who does this son of a bitch mean by 'him'? Kaoru thought, his teeth clenched and his eyes narrowed.
"You ended up in this dungeon? How? Well... I honestly don't care. I don't have much time to stay here" Lucien said in a light, almost carefree tone.
"But I'm sure we'll resume this conversation soon. At some point."
Kaoru laughed, a hollow, defiant laugh. "Oh, does that mean you'll get us out of here?"
Lucien covered his mouth with his fist to stifle a smile "The laws say that criminals cannot leave their confinement until they have served their sentence."
"But festivals, especially this one, are unforgettable experiences. Honestly, I think no one should miss the opportunity to be part of one."
"See you, Kaoru."
Lucien gave him one last smile, as thin and sharp as the blade of wind he had just thrown, before turning and disappearing into the darkness of the hallway, leaving only the echo of his footsteps and the incessant dripping.
"Hey! Wait! What the hell!?"
Kaoru exclaimed, shouting at the fading figure.
"How the hell... that guy...?!",
Kaoru said to himself in a low voice, disbelief and rage boiling inside him.
Johan cleared his throat, breaking the silence Lucien had left behind. "That was really strange."
"Yeah..." Kaoru added, his mind a whirlwind of questions. "Do you know that guy, Johan?"
"He is, without a doubt, Lucien D. Margaret," Johan replied, his voice grave. "The blood descendant of the Margaret Royal Family and current leader of his family, and representative of all the noble houses in the city."
"Now I understand..." said Kaoru.
"That nobleman met Subaru at the welcome party we were invited to last night. It makes sense that he would know him, being the representative of all that, and he surely met all the candidates and their companions personally. But why would Subaru tell that nobleman about me? It doesn't make sense. Besides, having seen that idiot's personality firsthand, I'm sure Subaru hates him too, and—"
"Kaoru"
Johan said, interrupting Kaoru with unusual authority in his voice. His good eye was fixed on Kaoru with a determination he had not shown before.
"I need you to tell me about that book. And your story too, if possible. Tell me everything."
"Why all of a sudden?" Kaoru asked, taken aback.
"Don't you remember when we first met, I told you my real profession and the reason I'm in this city?" Johan said, his gaze unwavering.
Kaoru was silent for a moment, then nodded slowly.
"...Yes, I remember well." He sighed.
"You want to find out what's really going on in this damn city."
"And you're also part of the mystery behind it. You're part of the grand scheme of things," Johan added.
Kaoru sighed again, a sigh of resignation, before sitting down on the cell floor.
"You'd better listen carefully. This is going to be a long story."