Mistaken for a Masked Munchkin

Javert's Iron and Justice (4)

A memory from some time ago.

A scene that had drifted far away with the hands of the clock, yet remained vivid in her mind.

A moment and a voice the girl would carry in one corner of her life forever.

-"Javert."

It was the gentle voice of an old woman.

The person who had taken her in.

The person who had broadened her world and shown her a more distant sky.

That was why most of her memories of the old woman remained like bouquets.

Because they had been that beautiful.

Because they had been that fragrant.

A flower garden in full bloom.

The girl carefully treasured the petals and leaves held in her hands.

She lifted the book of her life and tucked those tender petals between its pages, layer upon layer.

Pressing time down like bookmarks, she adorned the ends of her memories with them, as if they were pressed flowers.

-"Don't cry."

The girl still lived in that flower garden.

Even after leaving childhood behind and becoming an adult, she remained there as if she had never let go of the bouquet.

-"It isn't your fault."

And this was one flower among those memories.

The only moment that had not been beautiful.

The girl did not forget.

The first red on the woman who had always been calm and elegant.

And at the same time, the last red of hers the girl ever saw.

-"Cough..."

Dark red flower-stain splattered between ragged coughs.

A wreck. A jumble. A body ruined all over.

Broken stems jutted out of the old woman and spilled from her.

Her refined leaves had been hacked apart, and the roots that had formed the foundation of her long life had been ripped out.

It was horrible.

No, even with her body trampled like that, she was beautiful.

That mournful beauty pierced the girl's heart and wept inside it.

-"Javert... our beloved daughter."

She smiled even as her breath faded.

A weak, wrinkled hand rested on the girl's cheek for a moment.

-"It isn't your fault."

-"It was only... bad luck..."

Had she wanted that moment not to remain as a wound?

The petal did not blame the girl, even at the very end.

Just as cherry blossoms, even as they fall, do not resent the May that brought them down.

-"Everything will be all right."

Words that were not all right at all.

That life wrapped around the girl until the moment her heart stopped.

It was damp and warm, yet growing colder and colder.

It was as if winter had come to the flower garden too.

The old woman's red lightly stained the girl's cheek.

-"Everything... will be all right..."

The girl could not forgive that moment.

Her own cheek, stained with the old woman's red.

She wanted to peel off her own skin.

After holding a funeral for the withered flower garden, the girl became a sinner who could not be forgiven.

-"Javert."

The girl's adoptive father.

Drowned in grief, he spent several days crying in his wife's study.

Afterward, he took the shoulders of the girl standing quietly beside him and spoke.

-"This is why we must never break the principles."

-"Otherwise, everything falls apart..."

Principles.

The reason principles always had to be upheld.

-"That is the right path."

Principles and righteousness.

That sentence became a stake, driven deep into one corner of her life.

Yes.

So deep she would never forget it.

***

"As expected, it was you. The man from yesterday."

"Geh."

A cold voice rang out.

Javert had the boy by the collar.

Clatter-!

His back slammed into the wall from the rough shove.

The boy hung limply from the woman's hand, overpowered without resistance.

"I-Investigator...?"

The mask over his face was smiling.

His voice, on the other hand, was full of panic.

Which side was real?

The mask seemed to sneer that question.

"I asked if it was you."

"What in the world are you..."

Javert pressed him harder.

The air was sharp enough to cut.

The boy only stared quietly at the woman.

He seemed to have no idea what was going on, waiting for even the smallest explanation.

"Investigator... I would like you to explain first."

His words trembled strangely.

He seemed shaken.

To Javert, every one of those reactions felt foreign.

-"Why do you want to check?"

-"Could there be someone inside this robe who shouldn't be here?"

The suspicious figure she had run into last night.

Someone with a different build and voice from Viktor.

'None of that matters. Build, voice... in the end, those are all things that can be manipulated through devices.'

But her intuition writhed.

Her instincts as an investigator pointed toward the boy before her.

As she gripped his collar tighter, a few of the suspicious figure's words replayed by her ear.

-"Why? Will checking change anything? You're going to kill me anyway."

-"If you want to look at my face, wouldn't it be easier to make me a corpse first and then check...?"

Those whispers buzzed like flies.

They scraped at her nerves and thrashed around.

Was it because of the nausea swarming inside her?

Without realizing it, Javert let her killing intent slip.

Kuuuung-!

A pressure that shook the air of the laboratory.

The boy's shoulders flinched and went stiff.

"Urgh..."

The woman's green eyes stared at Viktor.

For some reason, her stomach churned.

"Student Viktor."

"Professor."

"Is it truly not you?"

"Please calm down first."

"I asked if it is truly not you."

"I truly have no idea what you are talking ab..."

Answer me properly!!!

For a moment, Javert nearly shouted those words.

Was it because her emotions had turned rough and uneven?

Her voice had almost risen.

The woman belatedly took hold of her reason.

The nausea stopped, and the blurred world slowly returned.

'What is this?'

The noisy air settled.

Then that question came to her.

'Why am I...'

Why was she reacting this intensely?

It was unlike her.

Grabbing a student by the collar and throwing questions at him as if she were pressing him...

Questions and answers that normally would have passed between them in calm voices sounded threatening today.

-"What will you do if I'm one of the people you're supposed to protect?"

-"For example, one of the students you teach."

No.

Something like that did not matter.

-"Do you wish I wasn't your student?"

Javert forced the stray thought away.

She was not shaken.

She was simply tired.

The fatigue that had built up yesterday had not yet faded.

Her reactions were unusually sharp because of that condition.

"...I apologize."

Javert took a slow breath.

She carefully released the collar she had been gripping.

"My method of questioning was somewhat rough. I apologize."

"......"

Javert lowered her head as if she had no excuse.

Viktor stammered in bewilderment.

But he did not grow angry or raise his voice.

Instead, he gently held the woman's hand and looked at her with concern.

"Investigator... are you all right? Did something happen?"

"I am fine. I am ashamed that I seem to have been needlessly rude."

"The suspicious figure you met yesterday..."

"Last night. Purgatory Floor 80 was cleared without authorization."

"Good heavens."

The boy sighed.

Because of the mask, she could not tell what expression he was making.

"Did you encounter the culprit at the scene?"

"Yes. There was a light clash."

Javert kept her response as neutral as possible.

She tried to deliver only the necessary information in a businesslike tone.

"Goodness..."

The boy's response was different.

"Were you hurt? If you clashed with an opponent of that level, then perhaps you were injured too..."

"I did not suffer any notable injuries."

"Ah! There's a wound on your left cheek!"

"No, that is..."

A wound that had lightly grazed her cheek during her clash with the suspicious figure.

It seemed the boy had noticed even that shallow mark.

Viktor's hand settled on the woman.

Srrk-.

He brushed aside her red hair and examined the wound closely.

The warmth of his palm colored Javert's cheek.

The woman's shoulders flinched.

"Did you receive treatment?"

"It is a minor wound."

"Still, you never know what kind of trick might be involved! The weapon could have been poisoned, or it could have been a sorcery armament..."

"I already finished checking. There is no issue at all, so please do not worry."

"Even if there is no issue, you cannot just leave a wound untreated like this."

"Student Viktor."

"What if it festers?"

"Student Viktor."

"Ah! I happen to have the potion I always carry with me. It does not have a particularly impressive effect, but I think it would be good to apply it."

"Student Viktor. I said it is fine, so stop..."

"If it is troublesome, I will apply it for you. Investigator, you only need to stay still..."

"Student Viktor!!!"

"......"

"......"

In the end, she shouted.

Nausea rose.

Her stomach churned.

Her vision seemed to shake in a messy blur.

Her hand had reached out without thought, pushing away the boy standing close to her.

"Investigator...?"

Viktor had fallen onto his backside.

He stared blankly up at Javert.

A small medicine bottle was in his hand.

Perhaps it had broken when he fell, because its contents were spilling across the floor.

"......Ah."

Javert stopped breathing.

The boy's warmth still lingered faintly on her cheek.

-"Could there be someone inside this robe who shouldn't be here?"

Why.

Why did those words keep hovering by her ear?

Javert pressed a hand to her brow.

A splitting headache tormented the woman.

Then, just as each breath began to feel dangerously fragile.

"M-Mom..."

A voice came from behind her.

The girl who had been hidden beside the desk all this time.

"Mom... are you f-fighting with Dad...?"

Lua.

Tearful eyes stared at the two of them.

The girl tottered closer, then tightly grabbed Javert's sleeve.

"Don't fight... Mom..."

Tears fell in drops.

Terrified eyes.

Tiny, delicate hands.

And the title Mom, held like a plea.

"Sniff, Mom..."

"......"

And so,

Javert stood frozen for a long while.

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