Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 223

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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 223.
Choose the Dawn (35)
Tulk approached and spread a napkin across my lap. He poured wine into a glass and lifted the cover from a plate, revealing veal stew that steamed gently upward. Four candles cast unstable shadows across the white tablecloth.
Though it would have been impossible to refuse the meal, I remained suspicious and refrained from eating. Just as I was about to speak, Tulk opened his mouth first.
“Might I share an old story with you?”
“An old story? Rather than that——”
“A story from your past, sir. Also a story of your father’s past. I speak, of course, of Yulken Jineman. You must believe that he despised you.”
The unexpected turn of conversation left me momentarily without words. It was difficult even to interrupt.
“It would not be entirely incorrect. He was a man who viewed the very concept of a ‘younger brother’ as an inherent enemy. When Yefnen was still an infant, he was not such a man. In those days—the finest of days—Yulken and everyone else smiled upon young Yefnen and cherished him with affection.”
This was a period I had never experienced. In truth, I had never even imagined it.
“After the incident involving Yenichka, the two brothers became estranged. Subsequently, Izeniya bore you and soon passed away. In Yulken’s eyes, your existence must have seemed like a curse upon the household. As you grew, you were never bright and gentle like Yefnen, but rather always fearful of your father. Of course, this was because you instinctively sensed that Yulken harbored no affection for you.”
“Wait—Tulk, you were not even in our household at that time, were you?”
I do not remember all of my childhood, but I distinctly recall when Tulk first entered our service. He shook his head and spoke.
“That is true, but I have served my master far longer than that. In fact, I remember the time when Yulken was your age. I was living in Longord even then. Therefore, I am able to tell you this.”
“Tell me what——?”
“That Yulken in those days bore a striking resemblance to you as you are now.”
I looked up at Tulk in surprise. While one might expect similarity through bloodline, I had never considered myself to particularly resemble my father.
My father wearing my face… it was a peculiar sensation. Even calling him father, Yulken remained far too distant and difficult for me to comprehend.
“In truth, what transpired today was conceived long ago. I remember the childhood appearance of the late Yenichka as well. She was like an angel of Longord, and I have long lamented that her very existence ultimately brought tragedy.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Had Yenichka not possessed such a pure heart, the two brothers would not have remained trapped in her memory for more than a decade.”
Tulk’s expression did not change, but his gaze wavered momentarily, turning toward some indefinable distance.
“Both men could not forgive themselves for so thoroughly destroying that young lady’s future. Unable to bear their own self-recrimination, they came to hate one another, hating ever more deeply, until finally they sought to erase her memory through mutual murder. It was for this reason that Blado found even a brief peace after Yulken’s death.”
I could not comprehend how Tulk addressed both men equally as ‘master.’ Was this not the man who had stolen my uncle’s daughter to avenge my father?
“Blado’s peace arrived with the birth of the new Yenichka. It was I who guided the naming of the young lady as Yenichka. I believed that the existence of young Yenichka would become the key to closing the tragedy of this household that began with the death of the elder Yenichka. A door once opened must inevitably be closed.”
The word ‘key’ carried an uncannily ominous resonance. Yet Tulk continued without hesitation.
“Young Yenichka, born and raised to close that door, bore a remarkable resemblance to the late Yenichka. I dare assert with confidence that there was no lovelier child in all of Trabaches than young Yenichka. Not only I, but countless Council Members and princes who thought likewise frequented the Ron Jineman Residence simply to see the young lady. Thus, as she grew, so too grew my conviction that the time to end this tragedy drew near.”
“…”
I had never seen the child called Yenichka, knew even less what manner of child she was, yet listening to Tulk’s words, I could not bear the pity that welled up within me for her.
Simultaneously, I found myself thinking how terrifying and merciless a man Tulk was, to harbor such thoughts while regarding an innocent child.
Though I felt it was unjust, I could not voice this objection. I understood that such unwavering devotion to the dead Yulken connected to what Trabaches people called ‘fortitude’—a virtue I could not openly challenge.
“Blado’s affection for Yenichka was even more profound than Yulken’s. His desire to prevent her marriage stemmed not merely from factional politics, but largely from his unwillingness to surrender his sister to another. For this reason, he loved young Yenichka with terrible devotion.”
A candle flickered and extinguished. Tulk relit it and continued.
“I understand his heart. In the past, Yenichka loved Blado—inferior to Yulken in both talent and bearing—with the same affection she showed her elder brother. Having lost such a lady, young Yenichka filled the void in his heart. He must have believed he could finally find happiness. Yet now I wish only for this young lady’s disappearance to cleanly end the family’s tragedy.”
I shook my head.
“How can that be an ending? The child Yenichka bears no guilt save a slight resemblance to Aunt Yenichka. Sharing a name does not make her the same person. Why should that child bear guilt in her stead? Beyond that, is sacrificing a new innocent person not opening the door to tragedy anew rather than closing it?”
Then Tulk’s gaze fixed directly upon mine.
“Will you forgive Blado, sir? In any case, no one can avoid death. Yenichka and Yulken have already passed and will not return. Those of us who remember them understand that a new seal, marked with fresh sacrifice, is necessary to stanch the flowing blood. Do you not understand this?”
“If Yenichka dies, Uncle Blado will not remain idle, will he? If he kills again, is that not tragedy?”
“Blado will have no one left to kill. His only remaining target would be myself, and I have no family, no friends, nothing at all.”
“….”
Boris found himself at a loss for words.
His indifference to whether he lived or died was unsettling enough, but the realization that he had been thinking of the dead with such intensity pressed upon his chest with a fear that was almost suffocating.
I had felt no particular emotion regarding Father’s death for a long time. Instead, the pain brought by Yefnen’s absence was beyond measure.
If I were to avenge Yefnen’s death, the target would certainly be Uncle Blado. And then? My aunt, who seemed to have lost her mind after losing her daughter? If Yenichka were to survive, what of that child? Would they forgive me?
No, no…. That was not the issue. In Trabaches, there was no such thing as forgiveness without a price. Tulk was no different.
Even if Yenichka was the most beloved young lady in Trabaches and Blado was merely a pitiful man unable to escape his guilt toward his sister, that gave Tulk no reason to forgive. The eyes of Yulken, who had died first, followed at his back.
“Young Master Boris.”
Boris sensed an unusual strength in Tulk’s voice. Tulk continued to regard him with composed eyes.
“You and Master Yulken resemble each other not merely in appearance. I have known Master Yulken’s character since childhood. It is quite peculiar, in fact. Master Yulken seemed to hold a special affection for Young Master Yefnen, who resembled the late Lady Izeniya, rather than for you, who resembled himself.”
Perhaps that too was a form of self-loathing. Perhaps Yulken could not bear to see himself, a guilty man, reflected in the mirror.
“Yet even so, a father and son remain father and son. The relationship between Master Yulken and you, Young Master Boris, does not become clouded in the slightest. And as I have already told you, you are now the master of House Jineman.”
In the past, I might have said, “What does it matter if he is my father, if I am his son, if I am the master of the house—what have any of these given me now?” But I no longer gave such foolish answers.
If I spoke that way, then I too had given them nothing. The misfortune that befell my household was no one person’s responsibility.
And one thing was certain: the blood I inherited would not change simply because I went to live in another land.
“I served Master Yulken first. A person may gain a second life, a third life as they live, but nothing can compare to the first life they receive. In that regard, I make my decisions centered upon Master Yulken. The final promise I made to him still burns within me.”
For the first time, a faint emotion crossed Tulk’s features. His brow furrowed with intensity.
Boris did not know it, but Tulk had ended Yulken’s final breath with his own hands in pursuit of vengeance. Of course, with Yulken’s permission.
“Who stands at the center of your heart, Young Master? If you are to truly recognize yourself as the last master of House Jineman, whose name has been renowned for so long, then you must abandon your feelings for young Lady Yenichka and Master Blado. As you know, that is the bearing a master of a house must possess in Trabaches.”
Boris gazed intently at Tulk’s face and realized that he had long wished to speak these words to him.
That was Tulk’s perspective. That was how he had lived. In Trabaches, where betrayal was considered the greatest shame, Tulk’s true master was only Yulken, and the world had its priorities.
Then what of me?
“Silent Steward, just as you pursue my father’s will with your life on the line, I too have someone I follow with such devotion.”
“Is that so? How unexpected.”
“Yes, it would be unexpected to you. In your eyes, the most fitting master of House Jineman was my father, but I am not. Father died at the Lakeside that night. And two sons survived. The person who passed the position of master to me was not Father. It was my Elder Brother. Yefnen Jineman was the last master of the house that I truly followed.”
Though those days were brief beyond measure, Yefnen led me….
Now I understood. At that time, though Yefnen possessed nothing, he was the master of House Jineman. That was why he could cast aside everything of himself so completely. It was affection for his younger brother, but it was also responsibility.
Yefnen, whose heart was gentle like Mother’s, was undoubtedly a true man of Trabaches.
“My Elder Brother wished for me to live without seeking vengeance. He did not merely speak it—he showed me with his own body. By choosing death to save me…. He did not tell me to guard only my own life because he feared I lacked the strength to avenge. He too knew where the scent of blood that destroyed our house began and where it flowed.”

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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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