Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 271

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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 41.
Not Every Child Is an Angel (41)
Joshua simply laughed without answering. It wasn’t the laughter of joy. I still remembered the day my sister left. There had been moments when my chest raced with longing and anticipation—wondering how happy our reunion would be. Yet the moment we met again, an inexplicable tightness seized my heart, and it showed no signs of loosening.
Even so, I tried my best to behave as the brother my sister remembered from two years ago. What had I been like back then?
“That song—it’s the one the Nanny used to sing long ago, isn’t it? While hanging laundry, in the summer…?”
I nodded. Perhaps because she could only think about one thing at a time, Ivnoa sometimes displayed a remarkably precise memory.
Though her intellectual growth had halted at five years old, she could recite conversations from nights long forgotten by everyone else like verses of poetry, notice even slight changes in her room’s arrangement, and recognize someone she’d glimpsed years before at a single glance.
Yet she was a sister who couldn’t even write her own name—Evnoa Ailchenbriss von Arnim—correctly, let alone read books or write letters. I wondered if she remembered situations like viewing a single painting. She simply couldn’t learn anything requiring abstract thinking, like letters or numbers.
When Ivnoa displayed such memory, others were amazed, but our family’s expressions hardened. They might have accepted her current state as inevitable misfortune if she lacked even that, but these flashes of brilliance in the darkness only made her deficiencies more painfully apparent. This shouldn’t be. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
“Who taught you to sing?”
“You went to School. You haven’t been home in so long. Don’t you remember?”
Ivnoa tilted her head for a moment, then spoke as if hearing a story from a century ago.
“So you went to School to learn singing.”
“Yes. You even came to watch.”
“Why don’t you do it now?”
“I quit. Don’t you remember that either?”
“Why did you quit?”
“Just… didn’t feel like it anymore.”
“Not fun?”
“Not that. Just… it got hard. And I didn’t care much for the people.”
Ivnoa suddenly exclaimed as if she hadn’t heard my words at all.
“Everyone must have loved you! Your singing is like an angel’s, and listening to it makes you happy. It’s so wonderful. Really wonderful.”
I could only smile bitterly. My sister had truly forgotten. Children that age shed each year as quickly as it arrives, each one vanishing in an instant.
“By the way, happy birthday.”
I said it suddenly, remembering. Ivnoa smiled innocently.
“Thank you.”
I gazed at my sister’s smiling face as if seeing it for the first time, studying it for a long moment. Ivnoa didn’t notice her brother staring at her. Simply because she was happy, she planted three kisses on my cheek. Then she pestered me to sing again. As I always had since childhood, I pretended to be reluctant and stood up.
As I stood beside her, Ivnoa was startled again by how much I’d grown—completely forgetting her surprise from moments before.
“Tch, you’re not little anymore. I wish you’d shrink back down.”
“I’ll keep growing.”
“How much?”
“Taller than you.”
As I said this, I wondered what it would be like if Ivnoa were my younger sister instead. Well, would I have been a good older brother, caring for little Ive with such devotion? But why were these thoughts—ones I’d never had before—suddenly occurring to me now?
“I don’t like it. I don’t like it. Don’t grow, my brother. Okay?”
I pretended not to hear and asked instead.
“Which song should I sing?”
“Anything. All of them.”
“If I sing all of them, you won’t even see the birthday party.”
“Really? Then just a few. Ten songs.”
Ivnoa spread her fingers wide like a child. Seeing that gesture, I grimaced as if something had struck my chest. Ivnoa’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Why? Does it hurt?”
“No.”
“If it hurts, don’t sing. Where does it hurt?”
“It doesn’t hurt, I’m telling you.”
Joshua thought that an unguarded place in his heart had been pierced. The moment he saw Evnoa Ailchenbriss von Arnim’s fingers unfold with the innocent candor of a five-year-old, it became unmistakably clear all at once—that he had lost his sister long ago, or perhaps had never possessed her from the beginning, and that he had spent two years trying to forget such a sister and had nearly succeeded. It felt as though a heart that had slumbered in the depths of his chest had suddenly been dragged into the sunlight.
“Still, don’t sing. What if it hurts again?”
Joshua obediently followed Evnoa’s words. And he remembered how, in his childhood, he had nearly suffocated beneath his sister’s reckless affection. Perhaps to Evnoa, Joshua had been the most beautiful doll in the world. After all, the young Joshua had truly been an angelic little boy.
“Let’s go down. You’ll feel better once you’ve had breakfast. I promise.”
But there was no five-year-old who would fret so persistently over a doll. With that thought, Joshua left the Practice Room as his sister wished. Yet even then, he harbored a lingering doubt about the affection his sister displayed. He had doubted even her capacity to love, on account of her insufficient intellect. He had even doubted the existence of her sincerity.
Thereafter, whenever Joshua recalled that morning, he felt the exact same pain in one corner of his chest. It was a small, perfectly empty circular void that his sister had taken with her. That place was small, but utterly hollow.
2. Ash
Everyone is dancing. This world, me, you, fate itself.
But when the music stops, the one who claims the last chair will be me.
That day, something small and black spiraled through the air of the Banquet Hall, passing from person to person.
It was scarcely visible, like ash floating upon water. Occasionally, it would be caught for a fleeting moment by an indifferent glance cast while turning one’s head. The moment one tried to wonder what it was, it vanished like an optical illusion. Just when one had forgotten it, it crossed from person to person again, traveling through their mouths and hands.
From beneath the puffed sleeve of a noblewoman, it passed through a fan, a goblet, and lips before entering a man’s eye. When the man felt the foreign object and rubbed his eye, it fell discreetly to the floor. As another woman’s skirt swept past, it revived and flew up, adhering to the bottom of a silver platter before slipping gently into the food. Someone cut a steaming piece of meat and brought it to their mouth.
In such a manner, it may have passed through all of the hundred or so people gathered there. Yet no one recognized it. Those who felt they had glimpsed something soon forgot.
But there was one who did not.
From the very beginning, he gazed directly at what approached him. Young, handsome, brilliant, and ambitious—a man who possessed much but was prepared to do anything to gain more—it came before his eyes. His gaze was like a microcosm unto itself.
He extended his hand without drawing the notice of others. As it descended, he grasped it in one swift motion.
It was not something that could be held in one’s hand. Yet he did not open his hand to verify. He knew that what had vanished from his hand while not truly vanishing would cling firmly to his heart and would not rest for some time. But he also knew it would not remain forever.
While it granted him strength, he would accomplish anything.
When Evnoa appeared holding a baby, people exhaled or uttered low exclamations. On the surface, it was a convincingly picturesque scene. At twenty years old, Evnoa was flawlessly beautiful, and nowhere was there any sign of trouble.
Of course, Evnoa did not hold the baby for long. The Nanny standing behind her quickly took the child as soon as Evnoa had made a brief greeting before the assembled guests.
“Is that the young lady—the half-witted daughter everyone spoke of?”
“She seems perfectly sound now, doesn’t she?”
“Perhaps she recovered?”
“What sort of illness is that supposed to be, one that simply heals?”
“Hold your tongue. In any case, what does it matter? It’s been years—perhaps she’s shown improvement, who knows.”
The guests were laboring under the same misconception Joshua had experienced upon first seeing Evnoa. That day, Joshua, who had remained in the least conspicuous position among the members of House of Arnim, regarded the circulating whispers with derision. In any case, it appeared that Father’s carefully orchestrated presentation had succeeded in deceiving people to some degree.
Theo, standing at Evnoa’s side, did not draw much attention. The guests were families with long-standing connections to Father, and thus they were absorbed in the transformed appearance of Evnoa, whom they had observed since childhood. In truth, it would be more accurate to say they were waiting to see when Evnoa would make a mistake.
In their eyes, Theo was an unimpressive figure from a minor house who had married for money—a person difficult to respect. Yet they could not openly antagonize him, so they simply ignored him.
Joshua emerged from the shadows and addressed Theo.
“Now that your travels have ended, gatherings like this must be taxing, I imagine? Still, you seem well, which is a relief.”
An awkward smile appeared at the corners of Theo’s mouth. The brother-in-law Joshua remembered was a boy of rare thoughtfulness and caution. With such caution, he had always tended to his sister carefully and warmly. During the time they spent together, the person who most patiently and most skillfully endured his sister’s foolish whims was not their parents or her brother, but Theo. Looking back, Joshua had actually been the one to care for and shelter Evnoa. Of course, Evnoa had extended such patience only toward her younger brother.
“I appreciate your concern.”
“Not at all.”
Joshua remained silent for a moment, then added quietly.
“I’m grateful that you care for my sister so well.”
“I cannot accept thanks for what is only natural.”
Theo’s face showed no significant change as he spoke. He merely maintained that faint smile.
Children of Rune – Winterer
Author: Jeon Min-hee
Publisher: 14 Moon Books
The copyright to this book belongs to the author and 14 Moon Books.
To reuse all or part of this book’s content, 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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