Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 258

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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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Episode 28.
Not All Children Are Angels (28)
I climbed the hill against the evening breeze. The wind, thick as a giant’s thumb, swept through the grass. In the distance, the windmill’s blades gleamed a deep red in the sunset, like heated iron.
As we climbed, Maximian explained that the Windmill House typically only operated during wheat harvest season and remained idle otherwise. Though pastureland was plentiful in the region, wheat cultivation was sparse. Today, too, the mill inside the Windmill House stood empty of any adults.
Before entering, Joshua casually examined the structure of the Windmill House. It was a narrow, towering building. The walls were constructed from the region’s distinctive rough stone—Kotzboldt—which bore a reddish-purple hue beneath the sunset. Bundles of wheat straw, leftover from threshing spring wheat, still lay piled around the perimeter. There were two entrances: a front door and a small door in the rear wall.
Inside, straw bundles lay thick throughout the mill. Empty flour sacks were stacked to one side. I set the lamp I’d brought in a corner. If the straw caught fire, it would be catastrophic.
“Hey, that bastard showed up.”
“There he is.”
Children who had been perched on the crossbeam connected to the windmill blade gradually climbed down. Though I was actually the one who had caused the chicken coop commotion, such details didn’t matter in this fight. They didn’t know what I had done, and I had simply assumed Maximian was fighting based on what he’d said, sitting thoughtlessly atop the straw pile.
Maximian met the children with his characteristic carefree attitude, hands thrust into his vest pockets.
“Oh, four of you came?”
“Chicken thief, are you ready?”
A large boy strode forward and launched a preemptive attack like a wild boar charging. Dust swirled as the two tumbled together several times before getting back up.
Rising, Maximian casually spread his fingers and waved them, speaking with ease.
“Show me something better.”
They clashed again. Maximian was quicker than the other boy and dodged well, though he stumbled slightly and had to catch his balance on one leg. When the boy charged again, Maximian landed a decent punch, while his opponent flailed with both hands trying to grab his collar.
As they pushed and dodged back and forth, the two gradually moved far from me. But soon I heard giggling—it was Maximian.
“Catch me, hurry.”
I had watched my father practice combat with Knights when I was young. My father never neglected his training and excelled not only with sword and spear but also in unarmed fighting. Most of the Knights lost to him—not because they let him win, but because he was genuinely superior.
By contrast, I knew nothing of fighting. I had never learned it and had never wanted to. Yet as I listened to the sounds emerging from the darkness and caught glimpses of movement, I felt as though I could roughly understand their movements. Scenes from my childhood began to overlap partially, and the sounds and movements started to connect.
But I quickly dismissed the mental image as mere fantasy and leaned back against the straw pile, using my arm as a pillow.
“Ah, that was pretty good just now.”
Maximian spoke with a laugh, but then came the sound of him coughing and spitting. A moment later, a low growl overlapped with his voice. I suddenly realized: that wasn’t a human sound.
A boy shouted excitedly.
“Go on, bite him!”
Grrr… Woof!
A dark, four-legged beast shot out of the darkness like an arrow. My eyes widened. There was no time to stop it. Maximian screamed.
“Damn it, what are you doing!”
“Shh! Bite! Tear him apart!”
“You trained it on your clothes, so it’ll go crazy for your scent!”
It was a dog. A large, vicious black dog, as big as the children themselves. The boys, now scattered at a distance, were delighted, shouting to egg the dog on.
My face went pale. In the darkness, it was impossible to tell what was happening to Maximian, tangled with the dog. But the fact that I heard no screams meant the situation was far from safe.
“Stop it! He’ll die!”
I leaped from the straw pile. The boys paid no attention to my words. In this darkness, they seemed to think only that the dog would punish Maximian, unconcerned with what else might happen.
“I said stop!”
I started to rush forward but stopped short. I had assessed my own condition. I was far smaller and frailer than Maximian—there was no possibility I could physically separate the dog from him. I let out another cry, almost a scream.
“Stop this instant!”
The high note trained from my years as a Choir soloist resonated through the entire Windmill House. Everyone froze, staring at me, and even the dog paused momentarily. After a brief silence, one of them spoke back.
“Why should we listen to you? Who are you anyway? Mind your own business and get lost.”
I caught my breath and spun around. The lamp I had placed in one corner caught my eye. I rushed over, grabbed it, and held it aloft, shouting.
“Stop this instant, or I’ll set the Windmill House ablaze!”
The young boys paid no heed and laughed mockingly.
“Set it on fire? Go ahead and try!”
“Just bluffing, aren’t you? You coward….”
Then Maximian, who hadn’t uttered a single cry until now, tried to wriggle free and stand. The dog, momentarily distracted by the commotion, leaped up and knocked him down again. With a growl, boy and beast tumbled across the floor. The young boys, still convinced Joshua couldn’t possibly ignite the building, continued their laughter.
And Joshua hurled the lamp onto the straw pile.
Whoosh….
The lamp struck the wall, its glass shade shattering as the oil-soaked wick caught flame. Oil spilled everywhere, and the straw instantly transformed into a blazing inferno.
“He… he….”
The boys were rendered speechless. They hadn’t dismissed Joshua out of disrespect—they would have ignored such a threat from anyone. Setting fire to a place stuffed with straw would spread to the entire Windmill House in moments, and that conflagration would be beyond the control of every villager combined. Joshua himself would be in mortal danger. It had seemed utterly impossible that he would actually do it.
The flames devoured a third of the Windmill House’s interior in mere moments, blocking the entrance entirely. The boys’ faces went pale with shock. The dog released Maximian and bolted about, barking frantically in search of an escape.
“You insane bastard! Are you trying to kill us all?”
Yet Joshua alone remained unnaturally calm. With an expression of serene composure—as though asking why they hadn’t anticipated this—he even smiled as he spoke.
“I tried to negotiate with you, didn’t I? But you refused. If I hadn’t set this fire, you would never have released Maximian. So tell me: should I let one person die, or should I let all of you perish?”
While the boys exchanged bewildered glances, Joshua concluded his words with a face rendered sinister by the dancing flames.
“Since negotiations have failed, naturally you all must die, yes?”
The boys were utterly stunned. This creature was truly mad. One of them trembled as he cried out.
“Demon!”
Joshua accepted the accusation with perfect composure.
“That’s right. I’m a demon. I’ve heard that since childhood.”
With those words, Joshua drew forth a mask he had kept hidden within himself and discovered how naturally he could adapt to this new role. Turning his head, he approached the prostrate Maximian. Though Maximian had lost considerable blood, he remained conscious—though his expression was one of utter bewilderment.
“Hey, am I supposed to thank you for this?”
Joshua, as seen through Maximian’s upturned gaze, possessed the chilling composure of a monster.
“Stay quiet. Can you stand?”
“I’m not sure.”
Maximian’s leg had been savagely bitten. Walking would be impossible. Joshua’s strength alone wouldn’t suffice to support him. Joshua’s eyes searched for the rear exit. Where was it again?
As the fire raged, chaos consumed everything. The flames now spread to the wooden structures. Had the walls been timber, they might have collapsed, but the stone walls merely transformed the interior into hell itself.
The dog broke through the flames first and escaped. The other children hesitated before following, one by one, in the direction the dog had fled. Joshua watched as a burning door panel toppled, then looked back at Maximian.
“Grab my shoulder and try to stand.”
“If you’re going to say that, at least lower your shoulder first.”
The two emerged through the rear exit in a posture where it was unclear who was leaning on whom. The mere fact that they escaped without suffocating was a miracle. Maximian collapsed onto the Grassland, his eyes shut as though unconscious. Despite soot smudged across his face, his complexion was deathly pale.
By then, the Windmill House was engulfed in flames, belching massive plumes of black smoke. Dozens of villagers came rushing up the Hill. The windmill slope was soon crowded with countless people. Yet the fire had surpassed the point where human strength could contain it. All that remained was to wait for it to consume everything and extinguish itself.
The children who had escaped first stood among the adults, their faces blackened with soot, coughing violently. One of them, cradled in his father’s arms, caught sight of Joshua and pointed, crying out.
“It was him! He set the fire!”
Joshua, who had been examining Maximian’s wounds, rose unsteadily to his feet. Every eye turned toward him. To their gaze, the child appeared incapable of committing any wrongdoing. Yet moments later, the eyes that swept across the crowd with arrogant authority were something altogether different.
“Fetch a physician at once!”
But the village had no physician.
Maximian’s leg, torn by the dog’s fangs, was in tatters. Without proper treatment, infection would inevitably set in. Moreover, he had lost so much blood that he remained utterly unconscious.
Since the Monks possessed some knowledge of medicine, the villagers carried Maximian to the Monastery. The Monks cleaned the wound and stanched the bleeding, but Maximian—whether asleep or unconscious—kept his eyes firmly closed.
Next came Joshua’s turn.
Though it was already the dead of night, the people who had come to the Monastery showed no intention of returning home—they descended upon Joshua with interrogation on their minds. Joshua was exhausted to the point of pallor, no less than Maximian, yet no one paid him any heed.
Joshua had been living in Kotzboldt for nearly a month now. However, dwelling alone in the Blue Roof House and encountering only Maximian’s family meant that most villagers scarcely knew him. The fact that they did not know whose child he was—that he possessed no protective shield of kinship—made the people all the more ruthless.
Joshua sat upon a chair placed in the center of a small room, surrounded by a dozen adults. An elderly Monk spoke first.
“Is it true that you set the fire?”
Children of Ron – Winterer
Author: Jeon Min-hee
Publisher: 14 Months Books
The copyright of this book belongs to the author and 14 Months Books.
To reuse all or part of the contents of this book, written consent from both parties is required.

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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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