Fremd Torturchen - Volume 7 - Chapter 4

4

The New Grave Keeper

I have to write I’m sorry.

It sounds so very easy, but it’s oh-so-very hard.

The fingers on my right hand got broken, you see, and because of how they knit, I can’t bend them very well anymore. They’re twisted all funny. And because he peeled my fingernails off, the blood drops get in the way. The cigarette burns hurt, too. My elbows are all swollen, so I can’t feel them anymore, but that only makes it scarier. And my tummy is empty, so my body doesn’t move the way I want it to. It hurts just holding the pen.

But I’m a bad girl, so none of that matters. I’m a “little shit” who “doesn’t know how the world works,” so I have to “whip my character into shape” “as fast as possible.”

I have to say I’m sorry.

I have to write it over and over and over.

Until they forgive me.

But I’m not really sure how to apologize any better.

It doesn’t look like there’s anyone left in the whole wide world who doesn’t think I’m bad.

But if that’s the case, then it must mean I’ve been very, very bad for my whole entire life.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. That’s right, I have to apologize.

I have to keep writing it. Even if the paper gets covered in blood. Even if no one forgives me.

But now I don’t have anything to write on.

I’m sorry, me. I’m sorry, Sara. I’m, sor, ry.

“I…should have never…been born.”

And that’s why I became Alice.

The man who had burned to death had risen from the ashes. However, that wasn’t to say he’d come back to life.

The current Vlad was nothing more than a degraded replica of his soul, which he’d created while he was still alive. Then Kaito Sena had taken that replica and moved it from its jewel home to an artificial body. Even if he hadn’t been truly revived, though, any version of Vlad that could move on its own power was a threat to the three races. After all, he was the man who’d led the fourteen demons and created the Torture Princess. Degraded as he was, his very existence was the embodiment of hell itself.

However, the fact remained that he’d played a key role in saving the world. Without him on their side, defending the World Tree would have been a major challenge.

As a result, opinions were mixed on what to do with him after Kaito Sena passed.

Getting rid of someone they could still use seemed premature, and the self-destruct device Kaito Sena had installed in Vlad’s head was still in good working order. Furthermore, the man himself claimed he no longer bore any hostility toward mankind.

“Why did I form a contract with the Kaiser and lead the other thirteen demons on a quest for world domination? I mean, you can call the dream childish, but wasn’t it oh-so-splendidly evil? Come now, what kind of villain sees a chance to turn the world on its head and doesn’t take it? …But the living ‘me’ failed. I’m certainly not immature enough to reattempt a challenge I failed at in my prime, considering my current state. And honestly, I’ve grown tired of the riffraff anyway. Hmm… You, though, I’m prepared to make an exception for. Tell me, have you ever considered dabbling in dark magic?”

The above was Vlad’s testimony from his interview with La Christoph.

Afterward, the Church had decided to leave him “alive.” They claimed it was out of respect for Kaito Sena’s wishes, but in truth, there was a much more important reason—one that was kept a closely guarded secret from all but a select few.

Either way, though, the fact of the matter was that Vlad was permitted to continue existing. However, he was the kind of person who couldn’t help but incite malice in others. Leaving him to his own devices was a recipe for disaster. So as a compromise, it was unanimously decided that Vlad would be imprisoned.

Unless an emergency arose, never again would he see the light of the sun or the twinkle of the stars. However, he never once complained about his treatment. After being confined, he simply took quietly to his new job.

“Here, was it?”

And now in the present, Elisabeth was visiting his place of incarceration.

“…Hmm. ’Tis been some time since I was here last.”

Elisabeth struck a daunting pose with her arms crossed. A very tall door loomed before her. Long ago, it had been covered with a dangerous barrier that would annihilate any who touched it.

Jeanne had dispelled that barrier, leaving the door unprotected, but it had later been replaced with a less destructive version to prevent anyone from entering. With Izabella and Maclaeus’s permission, Elisabeth had retrieved the new barrier’s key. She inserted it into the opening, and when she turned it, the barrier weakened.

When it did, the door swung open with a horrible scream-like creeeeeeeeeeak.

A rush of cold air billowed up to meet Elisabeth as she strode inside. She looked around.

Much like the rest of the graveyard, the room looked nothing like its former self. Before, its walls had been covered with ominous feelers on account of the half-white owl, half-pink mass of flesh it had housed. Elisabeth had heard that Izabella had been instrumental in getting the room’s grotesque gatekeeper, as well as the victims’ corpses from the Room of Pain beyond, interred in a well-ventilated mass grave.

Now, though, the walls of the room created by the Saint were empty of feelers. Their smooth curves, free of joints and seams, were in full view. The room was lit by a number of crystals hanging from its hemispheric ceiling, their gentle flickering reminiscent of a riverbed. One of the walls so lit was home to an amazingly well-crafted carving of the Saint. She was cradling a lump of flesh swaddled in cloth, and her demi-human attendant stood beside her.

Elisabeth let her gaze linger on this attendant. But no matter how long she stared, the carving remained still, and his expression remained hidden beneath his hood. A few seconds later, Elisabeth looked away.

Then as though nothing had happened, she looked toward the center of the room. Coffins belonging to kings of old were lined up one after another atop the wide floor, and there was a single man sitting among the procession of departed royalty.

He was seated atop a luxurious chair and reading his book as if he were the very picture of elegance. He appeared to be alive, yet he seemed oddly accustomed to the deathly silence that surrounded him. He carefully turned the white page over. Then all of a sudden, he snapped his book shut.

A dry noise echoed out from its leather cover. As the book itself transformed into darkness and azure flower petals, the man turned to face her.

“Why hello there, precious daughter of mine. What brings you to this tomb of kings, which holds but death, silence, tedium, and this lone sinner?”

His description of the place was accurate. After the kings’ corpses were interred there, the chamber before the Room of Pain at the bottom of the royal graveyard was sealed off. And after being locked away with the dead, Vlad had been given the task of watching over them.

In short, Vlad Le Fanu had been assigned as the new Grave Keeper.

If his late predecessor heard of that, the conniptions she’d have might well have proven fatal… No, given that girl, she’d probably just have smiled, then proceeded to wring Vlad’s head from his neck.

An idle thought passed through Elisabeth’s mind, accompanied by no small amount of exasperation. The girl who’d preceded Vlad had been so pious, it had warped her irredeemably. Taking that fact into account, the succession was ironic in the extreme. However, the new Grave Keeper’s role differed greatly from that of previous generations. The First Demon was gone from the tomb, and there was no secret left to hide. At the moment, the Grave Keeper’s job was literally just that—to keep the graves.

And thus, Vlad kept an attentive eye out for grave robbers while watching over the dead kings’ slumber—which was a roundabout way of saying he spent his days immersed in books. Annoying as it was, he lived a rather refined life for a man in confinement. And as always, he lacked not just piety, but any respect for God whatsoever. Instead of praying for the dead, he was more likely merely to point at them and whisper, Why, just look at this sad sack of rotting flesh and bone.

As far as Vlad was concerned, corpses were just objects, and God was just a phenomenon. Elisabeth was inclined to agree with him on both points. Their value systems were actually fairly similar, but she also held a grudge against him so intense that no amount of torturing him would get it out of her system. That said, she, too, was a criminal, and she had no intention of going against the Church’s decision and killing him. Instead, she’d decided never to interact with him again. Due to their present unforeseen circumstances, however, she had no choice but to give up on that plan. She opened her mouth, wanting to finish her business and be out of there as soon as possible.

“The human Capital and the second imperial beastfolk princess’s residence were attacked by a group using demon grandchildren and someone claiming to be a Torture Princess from another world. Of the assailants, one had a way of thinking that much resembled yours. I’m here to seek your counsel.”

“Oh my, my precious daughter, relying on me for help? This assailant must have been quite a scintillating fellow indeed.”

Vlad nodded several times, then stood. He gave his fingers an elegant snap, and his chair swirled up into a whirl of azure flower petals and darkness. Vlad, at the vivid, shadowy vortex’s center, looked up at the ceiling with a face full of emotion.

“Three years, though? That’s a good deal faster than I expected.”

Predictably, he bore a demonic smile upon his lips.

“…You mean to say you anticipated this attack?”

“Come now, precious daughter mine, what are you talking about? It goes without saying that it was obvious, no?”

Vlad let out a laugh so free of malice that it was actually unsettling. He clearly wanted to express how odd the question had been. As always, he had a perverse talent for getting on people’s nerves. Elisabeth responded with silence.

Vlad strode forward, practically dancing. The hard sound of his footsteps echoed through the room as he passed between the coffins.

“Sooner or later, this was bound to happen—but surely, you knew that, didn’t you? The stage was set. To compare it to a play, all the curtain needed to rise was a suitable actor.”

“True, we let too much information slip out. ’Twould be little surprise for someone to take it and turn it to nefarious—”

“Oh, goodness, no. That’s not even the half of it.”

“…What?”

Elisabeth raised an eyebrow. That wasn’t what she’d expected to hear from him.

Vlad shrugged in a theatrical display of disappointment. He gave his head an exaggerated shake.

“What in the world happened to you? Why, even my dear successor was sharper than that, you know. It’s as though you’ve taken dullness and dullness and piled yet more dullness on top.”

“As always, you talk much but say little—if you’ve something you wish to tell me, then out with it already.”

“Then I shall put it simply, my dear Torture Princess!”

Vlad placed a hand atop his chest and raised his voice like an opera performer. Then after taking a few broad steps forward to close the gap, he brought his face in close to Elisabeth’s.

His crimson eyes gleamed directly before her, and he spoke in a low, sultry whisper.

“Whenever did you go so soft?”

“ !”

His voice was full of scorn, and when he exhaled, his long breath lingered on Elisabeth’s lips like a kiss.

The moment he did, she twisted her wrist and pulled a dagger out from a swirl of darkness and crimson flower petals. Then in one fluid motion, she tried to gouge out his flank. He leaped backward to dodge the slash.

He’d clearly anticipated the attack. After looking down and seeing she’d cut his coat’s hem, he nodded.

“Your temper’s still the same as ever, hmm? I must say, I can’t really endorse losing your merits but leaving your flaws. Though, perhaps you’ll be better off this way. Becoming an ignorant sheep and joining the flock will certainly make your life easier; that much is for certain. It’s not the most desirable change for you to make in this situation, though. Not unless you want to find yourself served atop a plate.”

“Yet again, you ramble about insignificant drivel.”

“It’s entirely related! I’m ‘telling you a story’ here! A ‘tale of God and Diablo’!”

Vlad began inflecting his voice as though he was giving a speech. Elisabeth went quiet.

The man was acting like a buffoon. What was frightening, though, was that Vlad was no idiot. There was a good chance that a grain of truth lay festering beneath those nonsensical words of his.

Elisabeth, knowing that, dispelled her dagger. As flower petals cascaded around her, she spoke flatly.

“There are some things only a jester can see clearly. Go on.”

“Three years ago, the world very nearly met a tragic end. However, that seemingly immutable fate was altered by a single person. After burdening himself with God and Diablo, the boy fell into a deep slumber at the World’s End. Thanks to his deeds, the people of the world managed to avoid the apocalypse. The greatest good for the greatest number was, surely, the greatest outcome. One could say they all lived happily ever after. And that would be all well and good.”

But whenever someone’s story ends, there are some things that yet remain.

Vlad raised the corners of his lips, his mouth curled into a crescent smile, and he spread his arms wide. When the light from the crystals struck him, his shadow spread in every direction like the room’s long-absent monster.

“With its lease on life renewed, the world continued on. But the bells would eventually toll on a new curtain’s rise.”

For that is the way bells and curtains are.

His grin was unpleasant, bordering on demonic. Yet for all his posturing, he didn’t seem to have any intention of ever getting to the point. Irritation and bloodlust swelled within Elisabeth. Vlad, perhaps sensing that, changed his tone.

“And oh, how they toll! Come now, precious daughter mine, think about it for a moment. God and Diablo—entities with the power to destroy and rebuild worlds—exist. And now all three races are fully aware of their existence!”

“Aye, they are…but surely, that goes without saying by this point, no?”

“Ah, but look at it this way—now everyone knows there’s a way to destroy the world.”

“ !”

Elisabeth gasped. No normal person would have arrived at that realization. But of all the people who’d been narrowly saved and were now diligently going about their lives, the man before her, and he alone, saw things in a wholly different light.

Vlad, speaking as evil incarnate, continued.

“Sharing details on the particulars was an error, to be sure. But the true menace, the true threat, was the survivors’ changed perception. Now everyone knows that the world is ‘something that can be ended.’ The end of days is no longer a pipe dream or a legend. It’s oh-so-very real.”

Had you really never noticed just how horrifying that was?

He’s right—after the end of days was averted, people began conceiving of the world differently.

Vlad’s voice was tender and filled with a sort of pity. Elisabeth squeezed her fists tight.

She and the Church had tried to purge information on the fourteen demons’ uprising, but even that paled in comparison with the gravity of knowing that the end of days was something that people could cause. It was the kind of information that changed how people viewed the world. And as the man in black had said, “the true value of information lies in its ability to set people’s minds in motion.”

“So not only was this situation bound to arise, and not only is it occurring as we speak, but it will keep happening—is that what you mean to say?”

“That it is. The end of days cometh, and destroying the world is an attainable feat. With that fact proven, people will undoubtedly come out of the woodwork to try it for themselves. And in a sense, they won’t even be doing it maliciously. For you see…”

Vlad deepened his unpleasant smile. Then in his most irreverent tone yet, he gave his sinister proclamation.

“…what kind of villain sees a chance to turn the world on its head and doesn’t take it?”

“You understand now, I hope. The calamities will keep coming, and the world will yet again find itself cowering as the end of days’ footsteps draw ever nearer. Of course, my dear successor is the one who sealed away God and Diablo, those with dominion over reconstruction and destruction, so the process and conclusion will depend greatly on how he’s handled. For now, though, our efforts would be best focused on dealing with the crisis at hand. No sense worrying about the future when we’re about to join these pitiable fools, after all.”

Vlad gave the coffins a pointed glance and let out a contemptuous laugh. Elisabeth nodded.

Now wasn’t the time to figure out what they were eventually going to do about Kaito. She forced herself to think about something else.

The fact that a number of people had reported seeing the ghost of mankind’s third king while they were getting rid of the Saint statues and moving the coffins came to mind. Given the new Grave Keeper’s attitude, though, it seemed only reasonable. Meanwhile, Vlad continued talking.

“Now then, with my considerable detour out of the way, let us turn our thoughts to the attackers, shall we? This man in black wearing a bisected crow mask, this Fremd Torturchen, and this impression you had of them as being ‘tyrannized’… I must say, it’s all most fascinating, and all deeply troubling. If they were mere villains, it would have been one thing, but if they’re avengers, then it’s a whole different story entirely. The more righteous a man’s motives, the deeper his obsession and the crueler his methods.”

“Avengers, eh. Hmm… Hmm? Now just wait a moment…”

Elisabeth cut herself off midthought. Something about Vlad’s words had caught her attention.

As of yet, she hadn’t told him any specifics about the attackers, yet he’d made a direct reference to one of their appearances. With an obvious “oops,” he went silent. Elisabeth let out a deep sigh.

“Ah yes, I should have known you wouldn’t just sit down here quietly. You’re eavesdropping on the entire graveyard, I take it?”

“Ha-ha-ha, it’s an honor indeed that you’re as sharp as ever when it comes to me, my precious. Guilty as charged! Please, you didn’t think literature would be enough to stave off my boredom, did you?”

Vlad snapped his fingers, and the book from before plopped down into his hand. He proudly opened up its leather cover. Letters were scrawling themselves automatically onto its white pages. Presumably, they were writing out conversations occurring within the castle. And upon closer inspection, the cover wasn’t leather at all. It was made of countless sheets of processed human skin pressed together.

Vlad snapped the book shut. It transformed into flower petals as he spoke.

“It’s a magical device I made during my life that I was fortunate enough to avoid having confiscated. Thanks to this little number, I’ve assembled enough blackmail material to make dozens of the castle’s staff into my pawns. Delightful, isn’t it, how people of every social standing have just as many flaws?”

“Ah, I understand now. Truly, there really is no option but to cut you down and burn your remains to ash.”

“Oh dear, precious, don’t trouble yourself. I’m well aware of how your sensational moniker and garb clash with your strange overabundance of scruples, but I ask that you overlook this indiscretion of mine. I burned to death once already, and I can’t say I fancied it.”

Vlad raised his hands in surrender. Elisabeth glared daggers at him. For as volatile as the situation looked, though, neither of them was actually being serious. If Vlad’s speech had been a solo act, then their little exchange was akin to its intermission. Vlad was annoyingly fond of verbally sparring with his “beloved daughter,” and Elisabeth, knowing that, had chosen her words so as to entice him into coughing up more information.

Sure enough, Vlad playfully closed an eye and placed a finger atop his lips.

“All right, all right. Ah, what a helpless child you are.”

“Don’t take that affectionate tone with me. I’ll torture you till you breathe your last.”

“Hmm, your bloodlust is a little more on the nose than I’d expected. Ah well, tolerating his daughter’s rebellion is the mark of an ideal father, so I suppose I’d best give you my helpful warning anyhow. And in exchange, you can overlook my little hobby. How does that sound?”

“Not information, but a warning, eh? I haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re getting at, but very well. If this warning of yours proves useful, I’m prepared to consider it. Prove your worth, and you may yet keep your head.”

“Then here it is—would the likes of Vyade’s suicide bombing have been enough to kill you?”

Suddenly, Vlad’s voice grew very quiet and very cold. Elisabeth’s eyes went wide.

His words were a slight against the dead, and if Kaito Sena were there, he probably would have gotten mad. But Elisabeth didn’t care about that. Her memories of what transpired in the audience chamber raced through her mind.

The plant inside the crystal had grown explosively, filling every nook and cranny of the room without giving those inside a moment to escape. However, she herself had once fought her way through a similar situation. In the Capital, she’d survived a blistering-fast avalanche of flesh pouring down upon her. There were any number of ways she could think of to survive the vines.

However, Vlad’s vague statement was hinting at something even more specific.

Elisabeth dug even deeper through her memories, just to be certain. The cheeky face of Alice—the girl calling herself the Fremd Torturchen—floated vividly to the forefront of her mind. Elisabeth came to an abrupt realization.

I see… As the Torture Princess, I really have gone soft.

Even the dullest knife would have been sharper than her. How could she not have seen it?

“…Humpty Dumpty.”

“Precisely. Once it breaks, ‘all the king’s horses and all the king’s men can’t put it back together again.’ But unless it ‘has a great fall,’ that break will never come.”

If those two were still alive, the entire situation was fundamentally different.

Elisabeth immediately spun on her heel. When she broke off into a run, she ended up kicking one of the coffins. It looked as though she’d dislodged the third king’s lid, but that was hardly her concern. She shot off like an arrow.

Vlad’s voice came chasing after her, his low, smooth bass bouncing off the walls and striking her from all directions.

“Seeing someone beautiful succumb to sentimentality is like gazing at a work of art. And if they were a cruel woman, then all the more so. But as you are now, my precious, you’re hideous. Back when you were filled with grim resolve, you were far lovelier, far greater, far more radiant, and far more beautiful.”

Elisabeth almost yelled back for him to silence his fool mouth, but she held her tongue. It was only reasonable that he’d mock her—the Torture Princess had grown as slow as a heifer. She had no comeback. When Vlad went on, though, his voice was tinged with sadness.

“I thought you swore a vow.”

You were the Torture Princess, Elisabeth Le Fanu. The proud wolf and the lowly sow. You were to live the cruel and haughty life of a wolf, then die like a lowly sow.

Ah, that was my vow—and my pride.

The Torture Princess’s lot was to be cursed by all, shunned by all, despised by all, and to accept her unseemly fate of dying alone.

And at the same time, she had the cold resignation required to shrug off anyone’s death, no matter who had passed. On a long enough timeline, everyone would die. Nobody would be saved—they would all became carrion alike. And until then, all they could do was choose a way of living and carry it out.

Even if that way carried a gruesome end befitting their life’s ugliness.

Such is the proper way of things, so when did I get so—?

Elisabeth shook her head to clear the muddy, unproductive thoughts from it. Losing her composure and debasing herself any further would be unforgivable. After swallowing down her self-loathing and disparagement, she reached for the door.

The moment she did, it opened of its own accord. She stopped in her tracks so as not to crash into the honey-blond radiance before her.

The other party spoke in a voice as hard and high as a bell’s chime.

“Now this is a rare sight, lady. Not every day I see your ass runnin’ around all flustered.”

“Jeanne, hmm? What are you doing down here?”

“Oh, did you hear the news already? Eh, I figured the punk woulda been eavesdropping on us.”

“If you knew, then why not do something about it?! …Wait, what news?”

What now?

Elisabeth asked her question, her voice low. Jeanne’s honey-blond hair rustled as she blinked her rose-red eyes. Her doll-like beauty remained wholly undisturbed as she spoke flatly.

“We received word from a number of sources all at once. First, they detected a massive magical reaction at Vyade’s residence. Immediately thereafter, a man wearing all black and a girl wearing a frilly dress appeared in the demi-human lands. A battle broke out, and the demi-human side lost. I’m told that La Christoph was taken hostage in exchange for the safety of their royalty, officials, and highest-grade pureblood citizens.”

Elisabeth clicked her tongue. Thanks to her oversight, the situation had taken a drastic turn for the worse. However, she didn’t have time to lament her foolishness. Jeanne slumped her head to the side. When she went on, her voice was just as cold and unfeeling as before.

“Our enemies have requested to see you, alone. So what’s the plan, li’l princess?”

Will you go—

—or won’t you?