Reincarnated Cthulhu
Chapter 36: My Name is Casey O’Gerald

Fortunately, nothing happened.

I came to my senses in more ways than one.

Not only had I just awakened, but I’d also escaped the madness that had been devouring my mind. Neither outcome was something I’d particularly expected. I let out a deliberately dramatic groan and cracked open my eyes.

“Ah… my head is pounding terribly.”

A throbbing pain radiated from my temples as if someone had been hammering at them. Low groans escaped my lips in an unending stream.

“Master? Are you awake? Oh, thank God.”

An unfamiliar voice sounded beside me. I found it strange until I remembered it was Marie’s new voice. Feeling considerable guilt for not recognizing it immediately, I decided to keep that fact to myself.

My last memory had clearly ended in the chancellor’s office at Oldcourt University, yet somehow my abandoned body had managed to travel several kilometers home on its own.

My physical condition was less than ideal. Something cool and heavy lay across my forehead. By its scent, I recognized it as something from a candle.

“Marie.”

I barely forced the words out. Each breath stirred the phlegm clogging my throat. My throat felt as raw as if I’d spent the night on London’s streets.

“I feel I’m being rather boorish, and I hate to ask, but…”

“Go ahead.”

Marie leaned in closer to hear me. Though my vision was blurry, I could sense her ear positioned right before my lips.

“Can one really measure temperature with their hand? I rather doubt it’s possible…”

Marie pulled away from me.

“That’s the first thing you say when you’re at death’s door?”

“Well, I ought to maintain a certain level of foolishness…”

“I thought you were giving me your final words!”

“How amusing would it be if I perished from a fever like this? Stop the nonsense and fetch a thermometer.”

Silence followed. I forced open my reluctant eyelids and looked toward where Marie should be.

She sat there wordlessly. Like a doll—truly an eerie sight.

Her jointed fingers opened and closed repeatedly, and her head occasionally dropped down before rising again in a slow rhythm. The movements were methodical and unnervingly slow. It was an unsettling sight that seemed almost profane in its strangeness.

“Are you crying?”

“I thought you were dead.”

“Why? Did you expect the students to toss me out a window because they found my lecture boring?”

She laughed softly, the mechanical strings of her artificial voice box vibrating with uncertainty.

“I’ll fetch Count Frank.”

“Arthur? That fellow is here?”

Marie nodded.

“Very well, I’ll get the details from him. Off you go.”

“Is there anything else you require?”

“Not summoning Arthur would be most helpful, but if that’s impossible, bring me a glass of chilled milk tea. And I truly mean it—fetch a thermometer later.”

She bowed her head respectfully and left the room.

A moment later, unmistakable footsteps echoed from beyond the door. Confident strides with an unnecessarily wide gait halted outside. I knew who it was before the door even opened.

Thud.

“Philo, you must appreciate what a perfect gentleman I’ve been. Where in the world would you find another guest who waits so patiently while their host neglects them for hours? I’ve consumed three cups of tea and devoured two scones, which has left my stomach in most disagreeable turmoil.”

Arthur passionately declared his self-adoration at full volume. He practically shouted—a man engaged in a shameless love affair with himself.

“Lower your voice, for heaven’s sake. My head feels as though it’s being split with an axe.”

“Ah, understandably so.”

He acknowledged this and moderated his volume somewhat. It remained irritatingly loud nonetheless.

“What do you mean by that?”

“About your head, of course. You should count yourself fortunate to be merely in pain after taking such a blow.”

I raised a single eyebrow.

“My student, you mean? Was she truly that dissatisfied with the lecture? How dreadful must my teaching have been for her to strike me with the butt of a rifle?”

I recalled the final scene in my memory.

I had handed my rifle to the student, instructing her to shoot before I descended completely into madness. Then I had strangled her, and well… it seems she was hardier than I’d anticipated. Still preferable to taking a bullet to the skull, I suppose.

“A resourceful student.”

I muttered with a weary sigh. Arthur giggled and continued.

“Indeed! Why didn’t I think of that sooner? When faced with an unpleasant professor, one need only crack them over the head. I wish I’d known that remedy twenty years ago.”

He was evidently so pleased with his witticism that he felt compelled to repeat it. I had absolutely no desire to indulge his tiresome wordplay.

“Where is she now?”

“Ah, she’s here. Shall I summon her at once?”

I shook my head. I had no wish to contend with two eccentrics simultaneously while my head throbbed so.

“Well, if that’s how you prefer it.”

Arthur perched himself on the edge of my bed. I refrained from remarking on his rudeness. In truth, he was behaving rather courteously by his standards. The mere fact that he wasn’t sitting directly atop my legs constituted the utmost respect he was capable of showing a host.

“I had several questions I wished to ask before you regained consciousness.”

Ah, so the young female student had been subjected to Arthur’s conversation as well. That must have been the most grueling ordeal of her day’s journey. I felt a pang of sympathy for her.

“I say, Philo. Am I hideous to look upon?”

Arthur tossed out this question with no preamble whatsoever.

“Your soul is certainly unsightly.”

“Indeed, I am handsome. Isn’t it peculiar, then? A striking visage, clever repartee, and coffers full of wealth. How could anyone treat a gentleman possessing all these virtues with such coldness? She’s Oldcourt’s foremost enigma. I’ve already uncovered one mystery.”

He theatrically unleashed his lamentations without the slightest regard for my response.

“She?”

“Yes, she. She scarcely deigned to exchange words with me. You cannot fathom how long it took to extract the information that she had struck you with the butt of a rifle.”

Setting aside Arthur’s prattle, if true, this was rather unexpected. I had presumed her eccentric sensibilities would align more naturally with Arthur than myself. In retrospect, I had witnessed her shyness on several occasions. Did she exhibit the same reservation with Arthur? I couldn’t comprehend why she would show warmth exclusively to me despite her generally timid disposition.

“I did mention she was a resourceful student.”

“Ah, so that’s your stance on the matter.”

He muttered with unmistakable petulance. His pride appeared more wounded than I’d realized, as he reacted sensitively to jests he would typically dismiss.

“Nevertheless, her reason for remaining in my vicinity was likely her aversion to your housekeeper’s company. Take no offense. We, having witnessed the creature’s genesis, view her differently than the uninitiated. Ah yes, speaking of your housekeeper—I advise against sharing a carriage with her. Had I anticipated the experience, I would have simply taken an automobile. Could have practiced my driving skills while at it.”

I raised myself upright upon hearing Arthur’s disjointed ramblings.

“One moment—you shared a carriage with Marie?”

“Indeed. Did you suppose your unconscious form materialized here by its own volition?”

Arthur remarked with exaggerated derision.

“Today—or more precisely, late yesterday evening—a visitor arrived at my estate. I presumed it was that tiresome inspector again. Upon venturing out to issue my dismissal, I encountered your housekeeper—what was her appellation once more?”

“Marie.”

“Yes, I shall refer to her as Mary for simplicity’s sake. At any rate, there she stood, having journeyed alone by carriage to my residence. Though she had concealed her face and every inch of visible skin, I recognized her instantly. No one else carries death’s aura quite so distinctly. Even the coachman and horse seemed to sense it instinctively. You should have witnessed that poor coachman’s expression.”

“Kindly proceed to the relevant portion of your tale.”

“…She expressed concern regarding your failure to return at a reasonable hour. Such touching devotion, wouldn’t you agree? I immediately sensed an intriguing development and joined her forthwith. Alas, that proved a miscalculation. The terrified horse halted every minute without fail. The tips required to pacify the irate coachman and ensure his discretion rendered the savings from my meeting three—no, four—days prior utterly meaningless.”

“I shall reimburse you later. Now, pray continue.”

“We eventually arrived at Oldcourt University. I’m told there exist three separate gates for each college. Upon reaching St. Henry VIII College’s entrance, we discovered you and that student collapsed upon the ground. More precisely, she was emerging while dragging both you and another male student. Mary presumed you deceased. Your complexion was so ghastly pale, one could hardly blame her. We promptly transported you and the male student to your residence. I contemplated bringing you to Frank Mansion, but without knowing the student’s identity, I thought it imprudent.”

When given free rein to speak, Arthur proved truly inexhaustible.

After a lengthy string of grievances, he fixed me with an expectant stare, as if to say, “What more could you possibly desire?” Only then did I realize his marathon monologue had concluded, and I pondered what he had shared.

In truth, I had struggled to focus midway through his narrative. The mention of Mary—no, Marie—had distracted me. I knew of her loyalty during her lifetime, but I had assumed that after her… resurrection… or more accurately, after I had killed her, she would harbor resentment toward me.

The tale of her unwavering devotion under such circumstances genuinely astonished me. I was touched, if I’m being honest. Simultaneously, the burden of guilt pressed even heavier upon my conscience.

“Now it’s your turn to enlighten me,” Arthur declared.

“You must explain what transpired at the university, your connection to those two students, and the nature of that undulating sky I witnessed just before arriving at Oldcourt—all of it.”

“Indeed… it’s rather a lengthy tale.”

“Lengthy tales are invariably delightful. Even when you deliver them with your characteristic lack of flair.”

I fell momentarily silent, taken aback.

“My word. I gather I’ve received such critiques before?”

“Twice, by my count.”

“How fortunate I am! Far fewer instances than I’d imagined. No matter, Philo. The fairer sex hardly expects eloquence from former military men.”

While enduring Arthur’s utterly uncomforting prattle, I collected my thoughts.

At last, I began the introduction to all the truths I had uncovered.

“Professor Apollo Gregorios Kallas was orchestrating a most sinister conspiracy.”

“A name with which I am entirely unfamiliar.”

“I too was ignorant of his horrific schemes. In his obsession with wisdom, he enhanced the intellect of every St. Henry VIII College student, only to extract their brains thereafter. Through methods unknown to me, he compelled students to willingly surrender their brains, then utilized their remaining husks to mass-produce invisible abominations—brainless entities he termed ‘graduates.'”

“Brains? The organ within the cranium?”

“Precisely. He believed wisdom resided in the brain. Whether this is accurate, and what purpose he found for these harvested organs remains unclear. Nevertheless, Kallas had certainly extended his influence to other colleges. At minimum, he had collaborators within Jamestown College. Students there weren’t slated for cerebral extraction but rather graduated into society as accomplices who performed the extractions themselves.”

I paused briefly before exclaiming:

“Of course! When those ‘graduates’ encountered me in society, they weren’t disdainful of my mentioning the college’s name—they were contemptuous of my position as a professor at St. Henry VIII College! Because it marked me as a future extraction target! Good heavens, they were all conspirators!”

Arthur offered a subtle cough.

“Shouting ‘Eureka’ is all very well, but perhaps refrain from muttering revelations comprehensible only to yourself. What became of this Kallas fellow?”

“He’s dead. I shot him. His corpse was dismembered in a manner beyond Dr. Frankenstein’s capacity to resurrect. I also dispatched a significant portion of his graduate army. I intend to continue serving as acting chancellor to unearth Oldcourt’s remaining secrets.”

“You were acting chancellor? This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

Indeed it was. I had never shared this particular detail with him. No specific reason—the opportunity simply hadn’t presented itself.

“At any rate, Oldcourt University harbors numerous mysteries still. Jamestown College and Twelve Apostles College. The activities of these accomplices, the university emblem adorned with malevolent bloodstains, the cessation of time—phenomena of that nature.”

As I enumerated these enigmas, Arthur’s eyes gleamed. I’m uncertain if the expression is entirely fitting, but it approximated the effect.

“Forgive my interruption, but I believe you’ve omitted the most crucial element.”

“What do you mean?”

“What else but Chancellor Casey O’Gerald, of course. The man himself.”

I acknowledged his observation with a nod.

“Indeed, he remains the most enigmatic figure of my acquaintance. Despite my position as acting chancellor, I’ve never once glimpsed his face. I gather he maintains minimal interest in university affairs, but…”

As I continued my response, Arthur’s expression progressively soured.

“Is that the extent of your knowledge?”

“Regarding Chancellor Casey O’Gerald? Well, rumor has it he’s a passionate Irish nationalist.”

Arthur fell silent.

“Tell me, Philo. Do you perchance know his age?”

“Given the complete absence of documented information, I couldn’t say. In truth, I’m not even certain which generation of chancellor he represents. Every historical head of Oldcourt University has borne the name Casey O’Gerald.”

He raised a finger pointedly. Then, while fidgeting with his leg, lowered it again. Whatever revelation he’d been poised to share, he apparently thought better of it, slowly shaking his head.

“Very well, continue your inquiries regarding the chancellor. But perhaps avoid digging excessively deep.”

“I’m not entirely convinced that’s necessary.”

I nodded reluctantly, finding Arthur’s fixation on the chancellor rather peculiar.

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