Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 112

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 112.
Blood That Does Not Fade (25)
“Ah, no… But you saw many strange things back then.”
“Hmm…”
Isolet fell into thought before speaking.
“That’s true. I could ask what the nature of your sword is, or what power it holds. But if I were curious enough to wonder, wouldn’t the Priests have already handled it all?”
“There are things even they don’t know, and there may be things you understand far better than they do.”
“But they are far more sensitive to the Island’s safety than I am.”
Daphnen closed his mouth, then suddenly spoke.
“That sword was a treasure of my family. The family I belonged to when we lived on the Continent. It was passed down to my Elder Brother, and he gave it to me.”
“You mean House Jineman?”
“Ah, how did you know?”
“You shouted it in front of this house before. ‘I am Boris Jineman!’ you said.”
“Ah… I did say that.”
Daphnen laughed awkwardly and scratched his head. Isolet smiled and spoke.
“That was quite a magnificent declaration.”
“…”
I was at a loss for words, unsure how to respond. Isolet turned her gaze toward the hearth.
“I remember that day very clearly. I’ve thought about it for a long time—why I didn’t step outside immediately, how I remained silent in the face of such insult. I found the answer when I followed you to the Ruined Village. That’s when I felt you were the one who could resolve that matter. Not myself, but you.”
Hector may not have known it then, but Daphnen understood. Had Hector opened his mouth to insult the Ilios Priest, he would have had no choice but to face Isolet’s dual blades—the very blades the Ilios Priest had taught her—right there on the spot.
Whoever would come after, that single word alone would be worth killing for—that was the Isolet I knew.
In the next moment, Daphnen was startled by his own thoughts. Why did it feel like relief? Was it because I didn’t want to see blood stain Isolet’s hands?
“It was my problem too. My mistake as well…”
“I know. It was a shared mistake. If anything, the greater fault was mine for suggesting we go to the Sea together. And yet, I thought you would speak up to them on my behalf. Do you know why?”
“I don’t know…”
Isolet turned her head to face Daphnen. Her cheeks were flushed from the hearth’s glow, but her expression remained composed.
“At that moment, I felt as though you were my betrothed.”
“…”
Outside the house, snow was falling. It covered the roofs and eaves, isolating them from the world beyond.
“It’s alright. You don’t need to worry anymore. I’ve returned to who I truly am. My father left me an indirect testament: ‘Live according to the meaning of your name.'”
Noble solitude.
Why would the Ilios Priest demand such a thing from his only daughter? Was this isolated, solitary existence the result he desired for Isolet?
“Are you content with your life as it is now?”
“Rather than content, I believe this is the only way.”
“Why? Someone with talents as exceptional as yours is rare, so why live apart like this…”
Isolet cut me off firmly.
“Because I cannot become like my father.”
Daphnen tried to grasp the meaning, but his experience was insufficient.
After a long pause, Isolet continued.
“The Island is very small and a closed society. On the outer Continent, there are kings and nobility, but here there are only the Regent and the Priests. Even they don’t enjoy any particular wealth or glory. In fact, they cannot. Because the Island produces few resources, if any one person were to live like a king of the Continent, the rest would starve to death.”
Daphnen nodded. Isolet had never ventured beyond the Continent, but even from Daphnen’s own experience, her words held truth.
“There are neither the desperately poor nor the extraordinarily wealthy here. The ruling class receives nothing more than a modicum of respect, decision-making authority, a few finer garments than others, and the privilege of a proper meal.”
Isolet ran her fingers slowly across the Ilios Priest’s journal. The leather cover had worn smooth with age.
“In a society this small, equality can flourish easily, but once it fractures, there is no mending it. That is why The Island does not desire exceptional people. When my father displayed genius across multiple disciplines and overwhelmed others, the islanders were amazed and awed, yet simultaneously afraid.”
Isolet lifted her gaze and looked at Daphnen.
“What if one person surpassed many of us? What if no one could refute his claims? What if he methodically dismantled the order and faith we barely sustain through reliance on the authority of the Old Kingdom?”
Understanding began to dawn. This was a problem Daphnen had never imagined.
“The person who perceived this as the greatest threat was The Island’s leader—The Regent—someone you have never met.”
The window rattled. A whistling wind echoed through the room. Isolet’s voice grew rich, like hot chocolate simmered on a winter’s night.
“He was the one who forced my father to his death. He said it was only natural for the Priest of the Sword to sacrifice his life for the safety of the Pilgrims. He said it right in front of me.”
Isolet did not speak of The Regent with deference. Daphnen looked down at his own hands, clasped together on his lap.
The question of dominance and subjugation between humans existed here as well. Just as he had found no answer, neither did this place.
“I do not know what kind of person The Regent is. Why does he not appear before the people directly, despite being The Island’s leader? Is this how all Regents of The Island are?”
“No, only he is that way. He was not always like this. But now he cannot use his lower body. In crude terms, he is paralyzed from the waist down.”
“How did such a thing happen?”
“Originally, the Regents lived in what is now the Old Village, a place that lies at higher elevation than here, with treacherous mountain terrain surrounding it. The Regent was hunting hawks when he failed to watch his footing and fell into an Ice Crevasse.”
“I see…”
Daphnen now understood what a crevasse was. Such accidents happened frequently on The Island.
“Fortunately, the crevasse was shallow enough that he did not plummet to an unfathomable depth. However, his lower body became wedged in the crevasse, and he remained trapped for three days. By the time people found him, it was far too late to save his legs.”
“What a pitiful man.”
“Yes, pitiful indeed. The Priest of Circlet did what she could, but she could only prevent amputation—she could not restore function. Less than a year after his affliction, his wife fled The Island. Perhaps she deemed a husband who could not use his lower body worthless, or she could not bear to spend the rest of her life caring for him.”
This was the first time Daphnen had heard of someone fleeing The Island. It was surprising, yet he wondered if someone had helped her escape.
Given The Island’s geography, it would have been impossible for her to flee alone and reach the Continent.
“After his wife disappeared, he became ruthless. He seemed to remain locked away in his home, doing nothing, but in truth he schemed to eliminate anyone who disrespected him or any problem that threatened his position. He later remarried, choosing a woman suitable to care for him, but the only person he truly cherished was his daughter. Much like our father, though Father never remarried.”
Isolet paused mid-sentence, as if remembering something suddenly, and asked.
“By the way, did you not know? That she would inherit The Regent’s position? You should know her well.”
“Who is that?”
A startling revelation came to the bewildered Daphnen.
“Liriope.”
It was entirely unexpected. Yet there was no reason for Isolet to lie.
“I… had no idea at all.”
“Well, perhaps no one told you.”
Isolet tilted her head slightly and continued.
“The child destined to become Regent must live apart from her parents until she graduates from Scoli. She must grow up like an ordinary child. Otherwise, she would come to believe herself part of a privileged class. The child of a Regent, unlike the child of a king, cannot be allowed that.”
Daphnen thought for a moment before speaking.
“Then you must dislike Liriope. Your fathers were enemies, after all.”
“No, I pity them both. A man trapped in useless delusions, fearing the loss of authority no one even covets—The Regent especially, for he has become capable of anything because of that fear.”
Isolet’s voice held no trace of jest or mockery. She spoke with genuine sincerity.
“Now do you understand why I am telling you this?”
Daphnen fell silent, lost in thought, then nodded. And he looked at Isolet.
“I see. You were indeed the most promising candidate to become the next Priest of the Sword. If only you were not in seclusion like this, it would surely be so.”
“That’s right. I cannot become the Priest of the Sword. I have no desire to repeat my fathers’ work alongside Liriope. She resembles her father far too much. And I am nearly identical to mine. The way people revere me as a reclusive princess or whatever—it is all calculated. No one wishes for me to escape this situation and attempt something different.”
She was not a girl who had closed her heart in disappointment at those who stood idle while her father died. Nor was she living in despair, tormented by the fact that she could not die alongside him.
This state was simply the best that Isolet could manage.
I listened to the wind howling with snow in its grasp. Suddenly, a winter landscape I had glimpsed in summer came to mind.
Isolet, her injured arm hanging at her side, gazing into the distance—and myself, holding her close. We had not spoken of it, yet in that moment I had instinctively believed our hearts were the same…
“And yet, does that mean you will not love anyone? Do you need no one but your departed father?”
I watched Isolet, her upper body held straight, showing only her profile. I gazed at her intently, waiting for her answer.
Even if the entire world conspired to leave her alone, such a life would be far too unjust.
Like the final words in the diary written by the Ilios Priest, could fairness among humans only be calculated after tens of millions of years?
And then came a brief answer.
“I have already loved someone.”
“…”
For the third time, I found myself at a loss for words. A chill brushed across my cheek.
“And now I do not love him. While I loved him, my heart twisted until it was drenched in blood, and later it became something close to torture. So I buried it deep beneath the earth. It was the right choice. Now my heart lies buried, rotted beyond recognition, melted away entirely. And to love someone again with such a heart would not be right.”
I saw the logs beneath the burning fire turning to ash, slowly crumbling into powder.
Daphnen looked down at the floor, then awkwardly glanced around the room before suddenly rising. He said it had grown late and he should take his leave.
Isolet spoke with concern.
“The weather seems too dangerous to venture out through the snow.”
Daphnen shook his head, rubbing his flushed cheeks with one hand, and laughed softly.
“I cannot make the same mistake as last time.”
As he opened the door, heavy snow came pouring down. Daphnen hesitated for a moment, then turned back and waved his hand quickly before closing the door. His footsteps faded into the distance.
Left alone, Isolet gazed for a long time at the spot where Daphnen had been sitting on the mat.
A spark flew over and fell upon Father’s diary. I brushed it away with my hand to extinguish it. Then I rose, put away the mat, and brought the large chair back.
I settled into the chair that Father had favored in life. But this time, there was no book in my hands.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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