PandoraHearts ~Caucus Race~, Vol. 2 (2 page)

Elliot took the bookmark, looked at it, then realized the design was linked to Holy Knight. It showed the silhouettes
of Edwin, the protagonist, and his valet, Edgar. For a moment, Elliot looked pleased, but he soon grew dubious.

“I bought it yesterday. …Since you’re the type who takes time to read a book.”

“Was today something special? It’s not my birthday.”

“No, it’s nothing like that. I just wanted you to have it.”

Leo smiled cheerfully. In contrast, Elliot’s expression clouded rapidly.

“…What are you plotting? Getting presents from you is creepy.”

“
Elliooot!
If you can’t accept kindness from others gracefully, you won’t grow into a decent adult.”

“Everything you do every day is
making
me like this!”

As he retorted, Elliot’s brow was furrowed. He glanced at the bookmark in his hand.

For a while, he gazed at it as if it was something suspect and dangerous, but finally he shoved it into the back pocket of his coat. Walking in front of Leo, Elliot started down the sunny corridor. He didn’t look back. With a little snort, he said:

“…Well, I guess there’s no help for it. I’ll take it for you.”

Lutwidge Academy, Elliot and Leo’s school, was considered to be the most prestigious of all prestigious schools.

The sons and daughters of the nobility, the nation’s elite, spent six years here, from ages thirteen to eighteen, being trained to become the future leaders of society and those destined to support those leaders.

Lutwidge Academy was a boarding school, and during their six years of attendance, male and female students lived in their own dormitories.

In the dorms, students were placed in rooms of six from
the first year to the third year, in order to learn the manners and attitudes required for group living. Students in the higher forms lived in rooms of two. The only ones to receive private rooms, even among the upper forms, were a handful of students known as “prefects.”

“…Tch.”

They’d left the school building and were walking toward the boys’ dorm when Elliot clicked his tongue softly and stopped in his tracks.

Leo, who’d been walking beside him, stopped as well.

The brick path that led to the boys’ dorm wound through a sparse grove of maple trees. About halfway down that path, right where it entered the grove, was a group of male students: four or five boys surrounding one smaller boy.

They were standing in a ring, throwing a little bottle to each other as if playing catch, while the boy in the center of the circle chased after it.

This wasn’t a fun, friendly game. The smaller student looked as if he might cry at any moment, and the boys who surrounded him wore sadistic smirks.

Elliot knew all of them.

“A~ah, they’ve got him again, don’t they.”

Leo’s voice was calm. He’d followed Elliot’s gaze and seen the students.

“…Stupid…”

Elliot spit out the word in a low voice, then took
Holy Knight
from under his arm and held it out to Leo. Leo accepted it with a practiced motion and a “Yes, yes.”

Elliot stepped into the grove. He walked toward the students, crushing fallen leaves underfoot.

Even as the two of them approached, neither the smaller student nor the ring of students who were teasing him noticed.

The student who had the little bottle tried to throw it to his friend, but his aim was off, and it went toward Elliot instead. It flew in a high arc, and Elliot caught it. The texture of hard glass. The swaying, splashing black liquid inside it.

It was a bottle of ink.

Elliot had caught it one-handed, and as he rolled it around on his palm, a low murmur rose from the boys. Their voices were startled and bewildered, and every eye was focused on Elliot. Some said his name, while others said the name of the House of Nightray.

Although Nightray was one of the four great dukedoms, the nation’s heroes, the family was suspected of betrayal during the Tragedy of Sablier a century before, and even now, dark rumors clung to its name. This was the family to which Elliot belonged.

The students and teachers around him held awe and envy for the dukedoms…but at the same time, there was a feeling of distance with regard to the House of Nightray that was unlike anything directed at the other families. This was the sort of atmosphere that surrounded Elliot at school. Many people looked at him, but very few approached him.

Of course, Elliot would never have chosen to keep his head down and live quietly for fear of false rumors and backbiting. As a result, many of the school’s students saw Elliot as “aloof” and difficult to approach.

“You guys…are an eyesore.”

Elliot’s declaration was ruthless. Possibly they were overawed by his imposing attitude: As he strode into the ring of students, the circle broke.

Elliot walked right up to the smaller student, who’d slumped to the ground in the center of the circle.

He sent one piercing glare at the students who surrounded them. —Then, from near his feet, a faint voice said, “E-Elliot-kun…”

Elliot lowered his glowering eyes. A timid face was looking up at him.

Like Elliot, the boy was a fourth-year student, and they lived in the same dorm. His name was Marcel. His build was so delicate that he seemed better suited to the girls’ uniform than the boys’, and as a result, he was often teased.

“Here.

“It’s yours, right?” Elliot said, and he tossed the little bottle at him. Marcel caught it with both hands.

“Uh, uh-huh. —Oh, no, I, um…”

At that noncommittal response, Elliot instantly began to radiate prickly irritation. Marcel shuddered and gave a small “Eek!” Just then, Leo—who’d followed Elliot and was standing behind him—put in an astute word for Marcel.

“I think that’s probably Gerald’s.”

“Ahn?” Elliot turned to look back at Leo, prickly aura and all.

“Marcel is Gerald’s assistant, you know.”

“Hm? Oh. Right. —So, what, you’re on an errand?”

As he spoke, he turned back to Marcel. The boy was nodding vigorously.

Gerald was one of the handful of prefects for Elliot’s dorm. The many students who lived in the dorms were split into several groups, with one prefect placed in charge of each group and expected to give everyday guidance. Gerald was the prefect in charge of the group Elliot and Leo belonged to. However, possibly because he felt daunted by the four great dukedoms, he didn’t want much to do with Elliot, and they hardly ever saw each other. Elliot thought things were more comfortable that way, too.

Prefects were given the right to choose one student from a lower grade as an assistant to handle personal tasks for them.

Gerald had chosen Marcel.

“Um, Gerald-san told me to go buy some ink for him, because he was out…”

“He did, huh?”

Elliot waved one hand, uninterested, as if to say,
That doesn’t really matter.

“…Never mind that.”

Sheathed in cold anger, once again, he glared at the students around him.

Every face belonged to a student who lived in Elliot’s dorm, from first-years to third-years. He’d interrupted the younger students’ hard-earned fun, and they couldn’t quite keep their displeasure out of their expressions, but no one said anything aloud.

They were edging back, sure from the glitter in Elliot’s eyes that they were about to be lectured.

However—

“You little—!! You’re an upperclassman! Don’t let junior students push you around!!”

Looking down at Marcel, Elliot roared at him furiously.

“Fweh?!”

“Don’t give me ‘fweh’! When your family sent you here, they entrusted you with their honor! That means you don’t let younger guys— No, it doesn’t matter who they are! Don’t disgrace yourself like that in front of
anybody!
You’re a nobleman! Have some pride! Walk tall! Work on your swordsmanship! Take your scrawny—”

“Elliot. Elliot.”

From behind Elliot, Leo tugged at his sleeve.

“
What?!
” Elliot answered, still roaring.

“Quiet down,” Leo said, covering his ears.

“You’re scolding the wrong guy. I’m not saying Marcel isn’t to blame for any of it, but…”

“Who cares?! I—This guy’s—”

“And besides, you’re attracting lots and lots of attention. You don’t mind?”

“……Huh?”

Elliot looked around. Several students stood on the path that linked the school buildings with the dorms. It was a rather sizable crowd.

Most of them were probably students who’d just happened to be passing by when they stopped. They kept their distance, and although the looks directed his way were nervous, they were all intensely interested. Elliot stood out even when he wasn’t doing anything, and now he was the solid center of attention.

“……Rrgh…”

Elliot’s temperature came back down all at once.

“It’s a shame to waste the audience. Why don’t you wave?”

“Like hell!”

Elliot turned away from the easygoing Leo, fixing his rumpled uniform. With a brusque “Let’s go” for Leo, he left the scene. The students who’d formed the circle, realizing they were being left behind and assuming they’d escaped without a rebuke, breathed sighs of relief.

Just then:

“You, too!”

Elliot stopped, turning around.

“If you call yourselves noblemen, don’t use dirty tricks like this. Settle things fair and square, man-to-man.

“
Have you no shame?!
” he said, his voice low and harsh.

Although he wasn’t yelling, his tone cut them down ruthlessly with the blade of his integrity.

When he finished speaking, Elliot flared his coattails wrothfully and stalked off with Leo.

Until they were out of sight, not one student managed to move.

Then.

Finally. Marcel, who’d collapsed with the ink bottle cradled in his hands, gave a sigh.

He was looking in the direction where Elliot had disappeared, and his expression held deep gratitude at having been rescued.

…That wasn’t all.

“Elliot-kun is
sooooooooo cool
…”

He sighed ardently as he spoke. Then, with a muttered “Oh!,” Marcel happily took a notebook from his breast pocket. He opened it and began to write something. The cover of the notebook held the words:
Elliot-kun—Record of Exploits
.

“—And Gerald, too. He could at least buy his own ink—”

They were walking down the path to the boys’ dorm.

Abruptly, as Elliot muttered to himself, Leo said, “It was him.” Elliot looked perplexed. “What was him?”

Leo spoke as if it was nothing important:

“The one who egged on those younger students.”

“……Huh?”

“He ordered Marcel to go buy the ink, and then he ordered the underclassmen to keep him from doing it.”

“How do you know
that
?”

In answer to Elliot’s question, Leo said, “Coincidence.”

THAT SAME DAY, A MOMENT BEFORE EVENING.

In the center of the Lutwidge Academy campus was a quadrangle carpeted with lush green grass, and in the quadrangle were many girls and boys who’d been released from their strict classes.

Some students spent the time until dinner reading on the
benches. Others chatted with their friends. Still others cut through the quadrangle on their way to club or volunteer activities.

In a corner of the quadrangle, on a terrace made of white brick, several female students were demurely enjoying their afternoon tea.

All the seats at the three-legged tables were occupied by girls.

“—All right. Let us begin for today.”

The statement came from a graceful young lady who had been sitting at a table, quietly sipping from her teacup.

The girls who sat around the table with her, and the girls who sat at other tables, all smiled and nodded: “Yes, let’s.” The scene was exquisitely elegant and delicate. The terrace overflowed with refinement.

“Now then. Who will make the first report?”

Prompted by the girl who’d opened the meeting, one of the students seated at the next table over raised her hand: “Josephine-sama. May I…?” At that, Josephine, the girl responsible for the gathering, nodded gently. “If you would.”