Masquerade (1)
On the day of the party, I met Lycaon and received the invitation and mask from him.
But when I made to head straight for the venue without a second thought, Lycaon grabbed hold of me. Apparently there was some kind of dress code for the party.
What a pain.
I'd be wearing a mask anyway. Couldn't I just throw on whatever and go?
"I figured you'd say that, Noonim, so I went ahead and booked everything in advance."
That's suspicious.
There was no reason for him to be this on the ball. Still mulling it over, I followed Lycaon into the dress rental shop.
"You're not attending the party yourself?"
"It doesn't appeal to me."
When I stared at him dead-on, he averted his eyes with a flicker.
"…I've got other business to attend to, see."
"Is that so."
A criminal's schedule, huh. Judging by the sound of it, whatever he was plotting couldn't be anything good.
Well, fine.
After all, when I'd explained this operation to Zakina, I'd taken the liberty of also passing along the locations of their establishments and hideouts.
The Intelligence Bureau's investigators should be on their way by now.
If Lycaon got picked up by the Bureau in the process, all the better. And if not, well — I'd at least be able to throw a wrench into whatever plans he'd laid.
Before long, the dress Lycaon had reserved was ready. The moment I laid eyes on the gown prepared for me to wear, my jaw dropped open of its own accord.
"So, uh, you're really sure about this? Even for you, Noonim, if you get caught impersonating a Grand Duchess, it won't exactly be easy to hush up quietly."
"That part's fine."
She'd given her permission herself, and I'd paid the corresponding price for it.
Yes, the price.
But this was a step too far.
It was a dress built around red. A side slit, a neck slit, a front slit, a slit along the hem — how many holes was one garment supposed to have? For a moment I glowered at the red cloth hanging before my eyes — no, at that rag of a scrap — then lifted my gaze to Lycaon.
"What is this."
"It's a style that'd suit you perfectly, Noonim—urk!"
I smacked him across the back of the head.
"It is not."
"But this is the only dress I reserved…"
"Then there should be more."
Seeing the 'failed work' rippling at my fingertips, Lycaon's face crumpled at rapid speed.
"This isn't, uh, our building, you know."
"I imagine not."
If it collapsed, Lycaon's side would have to pay for damages, I supposed.
Not that that was any concern of mine. The instant I waved my hand, Lycaon hastily yanked the threads.
The threads streaming from Lycaon's hands wound themselves layer upon layer around the 'failed work' like a silkworm's cocoon.
Pop.
And then, small explosions rang out from within the threads.
"H-hey! Do you even know how much that dress cost?!"
"Do I need to?"
It was an item destined to vanish from this world soon anyway.
"I've never seen a woman blow up a dress just because she doesn't want to wear one. So what're you gonna do at your wedding, with the wedding dress—urk!"
"Shut up before I actually detonate it."
Cradling the back of his head, Lycaon weathered my smile for a moment, then gave a shrug.
"Well, I figured you'd hate it anyway, so I did have a backup prepared. Something more, uh, modest."
"Then you should've brought that out first."
I couldn't fathom why he kept doing things that got him hit. Whether I sighed or not, Lycaon struck a grand pose and clapped twice.
Soon the shop assistants filed back in and began setting up the new dress with flawless efficiency.
"…Seriously, are you sure this isn't a Sicario establishment?"
"It is not."
Then why were all the employees behaving like his personal minions?
"I'm, uh, kind of a big spender here."
"How much have you spent, exactly?"
"As much as I was sincere with them."
So in other words, he was a piece of trash who seduced women and then had them pay for dresses with their own money.
"Do you have no conscience at all?"
"In exchange, I granted them nights that were every bit as hot and passionate."
For some reason, the staff here were all looking at me with pity in their eyes. I considered clearing up the misunderstanding for a moment, but since I doubted I'd ever set foot in this shop again, I decided to let it lie.
"You're nothing but a beast in heat, aren't you."
"I'm, uh, quite the stallion—AAAGH!"
I stomped hard on the top of Lycaon's foot and twisted, then turned my gaze to the finished setup.
"Couldn't very well put just anything on our Noonim, now could I."
"I suppose not."
Lycaon puffed out his chest proudly. Unbelievable — first he shoves that rag at me, and now he has the nerve to talk big.
The open neckline is a bit annoying, but I can just throw something over it.
Coming after that first outrageous gown, this one actually seemed decent enough.
"Well then, do enjoy yourself, Noonim."
Lycaon's grin stretched from ear to ear. I clicked my tongue briefly and climbed into the carriage sent by the hosts.
We ran a little behind schedule, but I arrived without incident at the venue where the party was being held.
Fortunately, there was no rule turning away anyone who arrived late to the party.
It's pretty big.
Stepping down from the carriage, I tilted my head back and took in the full scale of the building at a glance.
A nobleman's villa at the foot of a mountain. No other facilities nearby — just one grand main hall, flanked by a single annex on either side.
Zakina — you'll be able to find this place, right?
It worried me a little, but whatever. If Zakina failed to bring 'those things' in time, I'd simply think about it then.
When I lifted the hem of the fur cloak — a Pel, Pel… whatever-it-was — the 'beasts' Zakina had attached beneath it slipped soundlessly away into the shadows.
The garden stood empty, which suggested the party was already underway inside the building.
Walking along as I studied the building, I soon found myself standing before its front entrance.
"Halt."
Two armored soldiers in frog masks stepped forward and stopped me.
One of the soldiers drew a magic tool resembling a speed gun from his belt and aimed it at my mask.
But nothing happened.
Uh…
"Huh? Why isn't this working?"
"One moment, if you would."
He pressed the magic tool against my mask several more times, then tilted his head and gave the device a tap with his palm.
Meanwhile, the other soldier ducked into the guardhouse and emerged with a thick ledger.
Flipping through it quickly, the soldier glanced back and forth between the book and my mask. Before long he stopped turning pages and held the open book out to the soldier beside me.
"White Fox, VIP. And she's not on the list of those who've arrived yet…"
"Is there a problem?"
I posed the question in as composed a tone as I could muster.
The soldier scratched the back of his neck, looking troubled.
"W-well, you see, the mask you were issued is a magic tool."
"We're supposed to verify each participant's identity with it, but right now your mask isn't registering, miss."
Click.
"M-miss?"
No wonder he'd been watching me so suspiciously when handing over the mask. He must have been worried I'd noticed the mask was a magic tool.
Of course, the mask would have lost its function the instant it touched my hand. It had probably worked perfectly right up until Lycaon passed it over.
So it wasn't that he'd handed me a defective item, nor that he'd lied to me.
You hid it, didn't you, Lycaon. No wonder you were grinning ear to ear.
Truthfully, I'd suspected something was off ever since he abruptly announced he'd be skipping the party.
For starters, planting the 'failed work' in Lycaon's mouth the next time we met was now confirmed.
The real question was what to do now.
I flexed and unfurled my fingers as I quietly observed the soldiers' reactions. Leaving me standing right where I was, they exchanged hushed words among themselves.
"What do we do? Send her back?"
"You forget already? The Count came by earlier and said the White Fox is an important guest."
"But she hasn't been verified."
"Hey, if we bounce her for nothing and she really is a VIP, you and I are the ones getting chewed out."
Before long, the soldiers finished deliberating and turned their eyes back to me.
"These devices do malfunction from time to time, you see."
"Is that so."
Well, as long as I leave no witnesses, that counts as infiltration too.
They had asked me to handle things as quietly as possible, after all.
"It's just, this is a recently developed model, so it does this at the darnedest times, once every so often."
"Then what am I supposed to do?"
"W-well, we do have a简易… a portable testing unit. As long as we can confirm it's actually the tool that's broken…"
I extended a finger and gave the magic tool in the soldier's hand a light tap.
Just a touch.
"In that case, go ahead and test it."
"Yes, then please bear with us a little longer. — Hey, where'd we put the testing unit?"
"Should be on the shelf inside the guardhouse…"
The soldiers went into the guardhouse and tried activating the magic tool.
Nothing happened.
Before long, they emerged from the guardhouse shaking their heads.
"Yep, it really does look like this one's broken."
"I see."
I flashed a faint smile.
Ah — right, I was wearing a mask. They couldn't see it anyway.
"That does seem like a bit of a security flaw, doesn't it."
"Haha…"
The soldiers laughed sheepishly.
"Well then, may I go in now?"
""Yes, ma'am.""
And so, escorted by the soldiers, I crossed the threshold into the venue.
The interior of the party venue — a soaring, cavernous hall — was packed with people wearing animal masks of every description.
Trays that flew through the air on their own. Glasses that refilled themselves. Instruments that played with no musician to play them.
At the swell of the music, the ceiling transformed: a night sky strewn with stars, the depths of the sea, a roof woven of branches.
Just as the evening was reaching its full bloom, the doors of the party hall — sealed until now — swung open. Several gazes turned toward the entrance.
A woman with a rather distinctive air about her stood frozen, hand resting on the door handle.
One of the ones on the list I checked?
The lips of a few men — those who dreamed of snagging a woman of good standing and climbing the social ladder — twitched hungrily.
Tsk, too bad for them.
The 'buyers' recognized through the mask she wore that she was a guest, not 'merchandise'.
…Is that right?
A young man in a brown raccoon mask narrowed his eyes, trying to gauge whether she was someone he knew.
A blue dress that clung lightly to her figure. Draped over the whole of it, a long white pelerine. Somewhat out of step with the current season, true.
But the fur-trimmed pelerine, and the palette of the clothes beneath it, called a single region to mind.
The snowfields of the North.
There she stood, drawing the attention and focus of so many eyes in the hall — and then she flinched and stopped dead.
Her gaze swept slowly across the row upon row of masks filling the ballroom.
At last, a low murmur slipped from her lips.
"Yep. Minefield."
Having delivered that brief assessment, she quietly closed the doors of the party hall behind her, as though she'd simply come to the wrong place.
Rating appearances off their masks — calling them a minefield, of all things — and then strolling right back out. At the sight of her, everyone present arrived at one and the same thought.
Is she out of her mind?