CAR 5

Jan held up both palms harmlessly and took a step back from Dennis, making a jest.

“I won’t do anything improper today. More importantly, I’ve heard some interesting information.”

“What is it?”

“You had a meal ‘together’ with the students?”

“There was no elegant service that brought meals all the way to my room.”

“Oh… Mr. Kahler. Don’t be surprised. The faculty members use a different dining hall.”

“Pardon?”

“Most of the students are sensitive about their diet and weight. The menu in the student hall must have been nothing but roots… Did it suit your palate?”

Instead of answering, Dennis turned his head. Marquis Quercy had helped Dennis with his outward appearance so that he could be liked by all, but he had never once fed him his fill. Beans and asparagus, he had thought that was enough… No wonder the students’ gazes had been drawn to Dennis as he silently emptied his plate.

“My, my… Let’s go. Isn’t it already lunchtime?”

“I’m the type to eat my meals in peace.”

“Yes, yes. After I guide you to the world of gastronomy, I will seal my lips for you.”

Walking alongside Jan down the hallway, Dennis occasionally looked behind him. He felt a gaze from somewhere. But every time he turned back, students who had failed to quickly pass the two teachers would greet him with an almost excessive politeness, so he soon gave up on pinpointing the presence.

Perhaps…

He thought it might be Eric’s ghost.

Still reeling from the shock of the luncheon, Dennis clutched his upper stomach and wandered the school grounds for a while. The trouble had started when he couldn’t quite push away Jan, who kept offering him turkey, and ended up eating every portion he was given.

As the day’s work reached evening, the school, which had been frozen stiff with tension and busyness, seemed to have softened considerably. The prospective dancers of Volée, having left their sweat-soaked practice clothes at the laundry room, each headed straight for the dormitories or the dining hall with weary faces. Their movements were clearly visible even from the school grounds outside the building.

After glancing up at the stone wall for a moment, Dennis quickened his pace, moving swiftly but not hurriedly. The place he needed to stop by was the annex. There had originally been a passage connecting it to the main school building, but after it was closed for some reason, even the students rarely visited it.

And for good reason; without the connecting passage, it was a considerable distance that took quite some time after leaving the main building. Dennis stared blankly up at the annex, which felt like an old castle. It was a suitable place for a secret meeting.

Dennis stared for a long time at the end of the dark corridor.

There was one fact he could tell no one. When he closed his eyes on the bed in his assigned room, he would invariably encounter Eric’s ghost in his subconscious. The ghost would crawl toward Dennis, shaking its twisted neck from side to side.

Unlike its threatening advance, all it offered was a single white card. On it, Eric’s name and the name of someone presumed to be his fiancée were written side by side. You’ll come, won’t you? When Dennis crumpled it, Eric would let out a scream-like roar.

The necks of the many people Dennis had faithfully twisted as Marquis Quercy’s servant would rain down from the ceiling.

Even now, it felt as though Eric might pop out of the annex corridor. Should he apologize to him? He wanted to grab hold of the dead man and purely ask if his death was truly that unfair.

Some people are beaten to death against a wall by someone of a higher station. Some have to prove their own worth with a single dagger after being locked in a cramped room with an old dog they’d raised for a solid decade. There were scores of people whose heads were chopped off for the simple reason of defending the king in a meeting.

So, Eric, if you’re watching me… help me instead of feeling wronged.

Dennis shamelessly repeated this in his mind.

All the rooms in the annex had been converted into practice rooms. The room where he and Viollet had arranged to meet was a practice room at the end of the fourth floor, and the word ‘Spider’ was carved on its nameplate. Because Dennis had arrived about twenty minutes earlier than Viollet, the place was empty.

However, all the windows and curtains in the practice room were open, as if someone had been using it just moments before. Even without turning on the lights, the moon was bright, making the interior feel rather illuminated. A large mirror reflected Dennis’s entire body as he approached the window.

As if possessed, he placed a hand on the ballet barre set up by the window. There was a faint handprint on it. Dennis placed his own hand over the handprint. He too, though slender, was taller than the average man. But the owner of the hand seemed to have an even larger build than Dennis.

Thud!

Something fell from beyond the window. Dennis suppressed the urge to immediately look down out the window and composed his breathing. If it was not a suicide but a homicide, the one who pushed would be watching from above. Dennis held his breath, still holding onto the barre.

A sudden chill went down Dennis’s spine. The appointed time to meet Viollet Dey was slipping further away. Pushing the barre aside, Dennis placed both hands on the windowsill. He checked above before below, but it was quiet.

Praying earnestly that it wasn’t so, Dennis looked down at the ground.

“Dennis Kahler.”

Someone seized the nape of Dennis’s neck in one swift motion and slammed him into the windowsill. His crushed left cheek and cheekbone throbbed. Dennis let out a long groan. It was a pain that was utterly impossible to hide.

With wide eyes, Dennis desperately looked up at his attacker. The first things that caught his eye were short shorts and cream-colored leotard that revealed the contours of his body. The large dancer, pressing Dennis down with one hand and holding the other behind his back in a gentlemanly fashion, looked extremely rigid.

Looking at Dennis’s thoroughly bloodshot eyes, the beautiful assailant sneered.

“Why is it that my teacher…”

“…”

“…is present at every scene of death?”

It was Vittorio.

He looked down at Dennis menacingly. His merciless eyes shifted between Dennis and the corpse on the ground.

“Do you want to end up like that?”

“…Let go and ask.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Vittorio smiled like a child for a moment. His thumb rubbed hard against Dennis’s right eyelid. It felt as if he were groping his eyeball, and it made his skin crawl.

“You couldn’t be getting excited over a dead body…”

Vittorio moved closer to Dennis and reached for his groin. As if simply checking without any ulterior motive, Vittorio fumbled between Dennis’s legs a couple of times before withdrawing his hand.

Dennis’s face turned pale. It was the first time he had been subjected to such blatant harassment by another man. Dennis had absolutely no immunity to this sort of thing.

Vittorio, gripping the nape of Dennis’s neck tightly, pulled him to his feet in one motion. Dennis reflexively reached out and clawed at Vittorio’s wrist. Vittorio clicked his tongue and muttered. Pinching like a little girl…

He and Vittorio were so close their lips could have touched. Vittorio, who had been observing Dennis’s face as if it were a spectacle, blew a puff of air, pfft, onto his chin. The hot breath on his skin made Dennis uncomfortable, and he lowered his eyes.

Vittorio opened his mouth. His voice was merciless, devoid of any trace of emotion.

“Relax.”

“…”

“When I see you like that, it makes me want to do… anything.”

Dennis impulsively spat in his face. The moment the thin, non-viscous saliva splattered on the other’s mouth, Vittorio let out a small burst of laughter, as if greatly amused. Then, he stuck out his tongue and greedily licked his own lips.

The back of his neck, held in Vittorio’s grip, ached.

“Teacher.”

“…”

“Why are you so stiff only with me?”

Surprisingly, Vittorio used honorifics with Dennis, but there was not a hint of politeness to be felt. On the contrary, the way he looked down at Dennis, as if he would chew him up and swallow him, was immeasurably irreverent.

When Dennis avoided his gaze and looked down, the grip on his neck grew stronger.

“…Don’t you think there is an excessive amount of unnecessary physical contact between you and me?”

Dennis twisted his neck to break free, but Vittorio did not budge an inch. Recalling the menu at the student dining hall, Dennis found himself shuddering involuntarily. It was difficult to even fathom how Vittorio could produce such strength after eating nothing but those damn roots.

Vittorio was staring intently at Dennis’s entire body. His gaze was persistent as it roamed over Dennis’s head and neck, his bent arms and elbows, and down his front and lower body.

“Unnecessary physical contact?”

Vittorio repeated Dennis’s murmur and let out a sneer. He seemed to ponder for a moment, looking at Dennis. And this was also a golden opportunity to escape Vittorio’s grasp.

Dennis played his card.

“Viollet Dey.”

As Dennis muttered the name, Vittorio’s pupils, which had been lost in thought, showed a flicker of interest. Like a child who had heard some interesting news, Vittorio pulled at the corners of his mouth, smiling silently.

“This afternoon, Mr. Dey reported you to me. Vittorio Bonaparte.”

“Ah.”

“He’s so clever, he even diligently collected evidence of the abuse. When morning comes, I plan to visit the principal’s office with him…”

Dennis could not continue. It was because Vittorio had seized his chin. Inside Vittorio’s large hand, Dennis’s pulse beat fiercely. Though he pretended to be composed on the outside, he felt a sense of shame, as if his turbulent inner state had been exposed.

“So you were the one who raped Viollet Dey, teacher.”

“…What?”

Vittorio’s eyes were merciless. He was spouting something Dennis had not even done as if it were fact, with such utter shamelessness. Vittorio even let out a sigh as if truly lamenting and began to choke Dennis.

“Everyone makes mistakes in life.”

“Let go of this first…”

“Your first mistake must have been Eric.”

“…”

“And after that, I suppose you fucked Viollet?”

“Bonaparte!”

“Because he confessed everything to me and threw himself to his death. He said that Dennis Kahler tore his leotard to shreds and shoved his unwashed, dirty dick between his butt cheeks… that you threatened to kill him the moment he reported it, and raped him all night long.”

Dennis’s vision momentarily turned yellow. Vittorio, noticing this with uncanny perception, briefly loosened his grip. Dennis let out a ragged breath.

Vittorio grabbed Dennis by his bangs. The way his mouth held back laughter, as if finding Dennis’s flushed face amusing, was humiliating.

Vittorio placed a short kiss on Dennis’s now exposed forehead. Goosebumps erupted all over his body.

“Poor Viollet…”

Vittorio raised his hand. Dennis instinctively closed his eyes. A fierce slapping sound, as if a cheek had been struck, filled the practice room.

But there was no pain. Slap, slap, smack… Dennis barely managed to open his eyes.

Vittorio was hitting his own cheek, laughing.

He deliberately put on an exaggerated voice.

“Teacher, please don’t…”

“…”

“Mr. Kahler got a hard-on from the boy’s pleas… Is my testimony correct?”

“…You crazy bastard.”

Showing his swollen cheek, Vittorio was closing the distance to Dennis. Dennis’s eyes moved busily, searching for a way out other than backing away. Could he throw the ballet barre at him? But as if reading Dennis’s gaze, Vittorio also grabbed the barre.

Under the moonlight, Vittorio looked like an overwhelmingly divine god. Every action he took and every word he spoke was like a disaster. Dennis, a mere human, could not even dare to avoid him. What he wanted, his intentions, were also unclear.

But in this moment, Dennis felt he understood a little of his inscrutable mind.

There was no reason. He was simply amused by toying with the rat, Dennis, who had intruded upon his domain.