It was yet another regular day within the Merveilles Café. At the time Vincent made his way through the bustling main street with its wide pavements and numerous buildings and entered the secondary street, he could see some faces already within the café: even though they officially opened at 8 AM, his employer liked to come a little earlier and start getting things ready by herself. It was almost a ritual to her and, after word of mouth spread, some early clients started dropping by. He asked her if he could come earlier to help, but she refused.
Ever since, Vincent would come at 8, with some clients already within the café.
He was already acquainted with some, most from neighboring businesses. Marie, the blonde girl from the flower shop, complimented him while Charles, the brown-haired butcher with a barely disguised crush on her, nodded, with Vincent smiling before complimenting them back. There was Henri, who worked as a shopkeep in a haberdashery two buildings down the street.
And there was his boss, already up and running.
“Bonjour, Vincent.” The purple-eyed woman complimented, with a smile on her face, her blonde locks swaying lightly as she made her way through the tables, her white shirt and black pants (the café’s uniform) already covered by the usual black apron with golden letters.
“Bonjour, Mademoiselle Alice.” Vincent replied. “Business as usual today?”
“Mhm”. She nodded. “ And I told you to stop calling me ‘mademoiselle’! I’m Alice! There’s no need for formalities… And I’m not that old, you see?” She said with a small pout.
Vincent let out a chuckle. “In fact, I agree with your assessment. I would certainly ask for your hand if I were born ten years earlier.”
“Charmer.” Alice laughed heartily. “Seeing you talk like that, I can almost believe your claims of having a girlfriend.”
“But I do have a girlfriend!” Vincent said, with a voice that was trying too hard not to laugh to have the chagrin needed for his point to be believed. “She just… uh… Is busy with her work, so she can’t come and visit me.”
“I’m sure that this is what you tell everyday to convince everyone she exists.” Alice laughed. “Oh, and by the way, there was a bit of mail, but most of it is just the usual nonsense…”
“Most of it?” Vincent raised an eyebrow, inquisitively. Alice’s smile didn’t falter, even though one could get the wrong impression that he was the boss and she the employee if those around weren’t used to this kind of dialogue.
Today, however, something was different. Alice’s smile seemed to falter if only for a fraction of a second when he asked about the mail they received.
“There was one letter addressed to you, Vincent. From the Conseil.”
“But… What could they possibly want with me?” Vincent asked, shaking his head in disbelief.
“It was said a member of the Conseil will visit you when your shift ends.” Alice said. “They didn’t tell why, they just said a representative would be sent to talk to you. Vincent…” Her eyes seemed to shine for a second… But Vincent was convinced that was just a trick of the light. “Take care, will you?”
“I will.” He said, nodding. He couldn’t think of a reason why the Conseil would have anything to do with him. Wait, he could think of one… But that happened over ten years ago… And no one found out about it…
“No slacking today!” Alice said, her voice taking him out of his own stream of consciousness. “Someone important coming to see you isn’t a reason for you to forget about your responsibilities and start slacking off, Vincent! Now go put your uniform because we are going to have a full day ahead!”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
She was doing that to take his mind off of that visit and he was grateful for that.
“As you wish, boss.” Vincent replied with a hearty laugh as he went to the backroom, changed into his uniform and got ready for another regular day in his own life.
Save for the little nudging feeling on the back of his head that seemed to whisper that things wouldn’t go back as they were after today came to an end.
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The day came and went, with Vincent’s mind locked at the moment where he would meet that representative of the Conseil. He went through the motions and Alice did her best to keep his mind focused on the job, but it was hard. Luckily, everything went smoothly and, before Vincent noticed, it was 18:30, the time where his shift ended.
He didn’t know what to expect after Alice told him that his shift was over. He breathed in and thanked her before going to the backrooms.
The backrooms were a small space with two or three little changing rooms for staff and a bathroom by the end of the small hallway. Right in front of the first room there was the pantry, where one could always find some fruit and a bit of coffee as an emergency snack. Vincent turned the lights on as, even during daytime, the lack of windows kept the place dark no matter the time.
Once in the first changing room, he changed into his suit, his stomach rumbling as he changed out of his uniform and wore his beige pants, followed by his white shirt then his dark blue vest, finishing with his beige jacket and hat. He looked at the small mirror and his reflection looked back, his deep eyes doing little to calm him.
So, after reassuring himself that he did no wrong and there was no reason for panic, he left the Merveilles Café into the bustling streets of Belteaux, capital of the Drayonne Republic.
He didn’t need to walk much.
Amidst the streets, right beneath a light pole, he could see her. The pale-purplish hair that fell down her shoulders and back, whose bangs framed her heart-shaped face, wearing a white uniform with yellow épaulette on her shoulders and golden buttons. The long sleeves of her tailcoat. Her white hands resting the pome of her sword. The long, elegant white pants that ended in shiny black boots, clearly polished to perfection.
Her yellow eyes, almost glowing under the golden light of the pole, eyes with a mischievous luster that seemed to wash over her entire face and now settled within her smile.
In many senses, she reminded Vincent of a cat.
“Monsieur Lamarre?” She asked once he got close enough. It was a rhetorical question. “My pleasure. I’m Véronique Talonner.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Mademoiselle.” Vincent replied. His cageyness seemed to amuse her.
“Oh, aren’t you a charmer?” She giggled. “Now, if you would come with me, Monsieur. I would like to speak as we walk… After all, why not indulge in the beauty of our city once in a while?”
Vincent bit his tongue, but there was nothing he could do at that moment… So, after he began walking through the crowded streets, he felt a tinge of surprise when Véronique’s arm ensnared his. To an onlooker, they could have been a couple on a date.
“So, monsieur Lamarre…” Véronique purred. “Have you seen the new play in theaters, ‘The Hunchback’?”
“I have, yes.” Vincent replied, his eyes digging into Véronique’s, who seemed to be having too much fun with her teasing. “I think that Anatole Carpentier was amazing in the role of ‘Monsieur Noir’.”
“Mhm… Although Anatole was indeed wonderful, I fear that the best performance was delivered by Sylvie Maret. There was a subtle grace with which she managed to convey the innocent malice of ‘Claudia’… I was enthralled.”
“Her performance was truly amazing… But to discover she was the assassin all along took me out of the experience… For me, it would be best if she didn’t reveal it by the end and merely kept things as they went. It seemed forced to have her confess by the end. It felt as if the author wanted to force a good ending by having the bad guy caught.”
“Good endings annoy you, monsieur Lamarre?” Véronique asked, her head tilting slightly to the side.
“No… But I can’t accept a good ending that was forced instead of earned.” Vincent replied. “The fact that the ending was forced is what makes me not enjoy Sylvie Maret’s performance.”
“Then I believe that, tonight, this might just change.”
“Hm?” Vincent asked, turning his head to face Dominique, with her smile having grown in both size and mystery.
“I requested your help to earn a good ending tonight.” She spoke, nonchalantly. “Monsieur, tonight we are hunting a murderer.”
Her arm left Vincent’s as she walked on, while he was frozen in place with the shock. She turned to face him, her indecipherable smile in her face. Amidst the gabled houses with their small gardens of greens and blues and pinks, the stones of the street, the darkening sky and the orange glow of the lamplights which bathed everything in a golden light, the entire view, with Véronique right at the center, might as well be part of a dream that was turning into a nightmare.
“So, may I count with your help, Monsieur Lamarre?”