Professor Layton vs Phoenix Wright: The Frigid Melody

The Music of Miles Edgeworth

Nobody else in the village had woken up yet.

Or at least, nobody was out in the streets to catch Trucy in the act.

The sun was just barely peeking over the top of the mountains as she ran across the snow-covered square, crunching and crackling underfoot, and she kept one hand on her hat so that it didn't go flying off. Wind resistance could be awful when it wanted to be.

She didn't stop until she had reached the King's Arms and, after fighting her instincts to stop under the front windows rather than run up to the door, she held her hat tighter and looked up the wall to its roof.

For such a cold climate, this ivy looked amazingly healthy.

Trucy pulled her hat down until it was tight around her ears and almost over her eyes. It'd be a big problem if it fell off while she was climbing and then somebody walking past found it on the ground while she was still busy.

She gently took hold of the ivy and gave it an experimental tug. It was fixed fast to the wall. Seemed like it would be able to take her weight.

Thank goodness the drapes on the window this ivy had grown over were still drawn. If somebody opened them, she'd be the first thing they saw!

She grabbed a vine up higher and pulled herself up, and slipped her foot into the leaves near the ground. When she took her other foot off the ground, the ivy stayed stuck to the wall. She climbed another step up and yes, it still held strong.

Another step. Another pull. Another few inches up.

This wasn't enough. She had to speed up. But if she did, that'd be dangerous. She'd risk pulling the ivy off. Then she'd fall and get hurt. The snow was deep – deeper than she'd ever seen snow get in all the time she'd lived with either of her dads – but it wasn't enough to cushion her fall if the ivy tore away.

So she pulled herself up as quickly as she dared. One hand over the other. One foot above the previous. Not too fast. Not too slow.

If Dad, the Professor or Luke found out about what she was doing, they would be absolutely furious with her.

Well, maybe if she fell. If she made it back in one piece, nobody would mind too much, would they?

It was better to ask forgiveness than permission. That was what her previous Dad used to say.

She looked down over her shoulder. She was about ten feet up. When she looked back up, she still had about ten more. So halfway up? It was hard to tell when she was already climbing.

Just keep going. Keep climbing. She didn't have far to go.

It was funny to think that if it was her Dad instead, he would probably have already puked fifteen times by this point.

Like he did that one time on the rollercoaster.

And no, she was never going to let him live that down.

Maybe she could tell Uncle Miles about it when he woke up. He loved all the stories about Dad embarrassing himself.

There it was. She'd made it. She'd reached her and Daddy's window.

She pulled herself up the ivy until she was at eye level with the ledge and hooked her arm around the vines that coiled above her to the gutter that lined the roof. Once she had a hand free, she dug into her bag and pulled out her smallest set of picks.

It was remarkable that these windows had locks on the outside in the first place. Maybe they were for rescue workers, she considered as she stuck them into the lock. If the building was on fire and the firefighters needed to get in without breaking the window. Or maybe it was something to do with the superstitions the people in this village had? A way for the spirits to come and go as they pleased?