Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 272

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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 42.
Not All Children Are Angels (42)
From around the age of ten, my brother-in-law spent every day with Ivnoa. Though not necessarily for that reason alone, I never doubted that Theo loved my sister. Perhaps it was pity. Perhaps it was patience. But in any case, the mere fact that he endured was something no one else could have accomplished.
Despite being unable to genuinely like my brother-in-law, I often stood against unfair public opinion directed at Theo within the household. It was the greatest gratitude I could express toward someone accomplishing what I could not.
As the party reached its peak, Duke Arnim approached the carefully stacked tower of champagne glasses with a pleasant laugh. He was satisfied with today’s gathering. My sister had made no mistakes, and the guests all seemed impressed. Some among them were already hastily believing that Ivnoa had returned to normalcy. He lifted the topmost glass high.
“Now, to the health of His Majesty the King and all of us!”
In the New Anomarad Kingdom, the two dukes who were not of royal blood—Arnim and Pontina—had now become not merely in name but in truth the two arms of the king. They were the architects who had orchestrated the stage for Checel da Anomarad’s victory in war and finally pushed him to the throne. The nobility recently gathered around Duke Arnim were ceaselessly praising his achievements as comparable to those of the first Duke Arnim, Icabon.
The guests lifted their glasses as well. A light tinkling sound, cheerful murmuring spread, and as the glasses touched their lips, there was a brief moment when the voices quieted.
Duke Arnim did not drink the champagne from the glass he held but handed it to me. It was a scene deliberately prepared to make clear who would inherit the title.
Long ago, when I did not exist and the Duchess lay ill, Duke Arnim had promised his wife that he would continue the family line through a child born to Ivnoa in the future. That was why the engagement between Ivnoa and Theo was hastily arranged. However, after the Duchess gave birth to me despite the strain, the promises related to Theo naturally disappeared.
Today’s guests were likely not unaware of such matters, but in any case, it was a promise made by the head of the family, and since Theo had become a member of the household, it was not a bad production to naturally display the Duke’s will as an opportunity to reclaim the title. Most of those invited today had heard that there would be a scene of the glass being passed. As I accepted the glass, applause erupted.
I also understood Father’s intentions. Watching him pick up a new glass from the tray held by a servant, I tried to accept what seemed to me an excessive display of his will. But the moment I caught a glimpse of Theo’s face standing not far away, even that faded weakly.
Theo had once been promised to become the heir of the household. I was merely born, but it was an undeniable fact that Theo was pushed aside because of me. Moreover, today’s banquet was a celebration of Ive’s birthday and her return. I was not the protagonist of the party, and…
If my sister had grown up as an ordinary adult and come to this gathering, perhaps even on a day like this, she would not have been pleased to see the topmost glass of the party meant for the party’s protagonist go to her younger brother.
“What about me? Give it to me too! Give me that too!”
Ivnoa’s voice came from somewhere as she approached, having been standing at a distance with her Nanny holding a baby. It seemed she had seen Father giving me something and witnessed everyone holding up their glasses.
Father did not want Ivnoa to whine like a child, at least not today. Ivnoa was already staring at me with those characteristically stubborn eyes.
It wouldn’t matter if they brought another glass, but my hands already held a drink that felt awkward to consume. Ivnoa rarely drank alcohol, but weak champagne seemed acceptable. There was a chance she might cause a scene during the brief moment it would take to bring a new glass. But more than anything, if I did that, I wouldn’t have to drink either—at least I could avoid this moment—and though it might be self-satisfaction, I wanted to do it for my sister.
That was what I thought.
“I’ll give it to you, Sister. Today is your birthday, after all.”
As the briefly quieted voices were beginning to spread into busy noise, few people witnessed me giving my glass to Ivnoa. Duke Arnim saw it, and though he frowned slightly, since no one was paying attention now and drawing attention by stopping me would only make matters worse, he pretended not to notice.
My sister, as I saw her, was smiling brightly with unmistakable satisfaction. So much so that I wondered if she could be that pleased, or perhaps she was happy knowing some other secret I didn’t know.
“Yes, good.”
When the smooth glass surface left my fingers, I felt strangely as if I had released something I shouldn’t have. As Ivnoa brought the glass to her lips, I felt a momentary tightness in my chest, as if watching the protagonist of a play choosing the wrong path. No, it was merely a temporary feeling. In fact, I even found myself contemptible for being so fixated on this worthless glass.
“Ugh, it tastes awful!”
Ivnoa, who had only ever drunk sweet beverages, gulped down the champagne like juice and immediately contorted her lips with a cry. She spat out what remained in her mouth, but she had already swallowed half of it. Madame Bwaju, standing nearby, approached with a handkerchief to wipe away what Ivnoa had spat out.
Someone seemed to be pushing through the crowd and approaching urgently…
That thought vanished in an instant, and my eyes widened. Had I felt it was like a play just now? It had truly become a play. Everyone before me suddenly began performing as if they were actors. What was happening? Had they all planned this beforehand? To mock me? To entertain me?
Even Ive…?
“Sister?”
Thud—the glass fell onto the thick carpet without breaking, rolled slightly, and stopped.
In a situation beyond my comprehension, without knowing it myself, I tried to catch my sister’s collapsing shoulders and lift her up. I tried to hastily join in this incomprehensible play. At the same time, a vivid red liquid cascaded onto my hands and arms, and I looked at my own hands.
The surroundings fell silent.
That red color trembled like breathing, then stopped, repeating this cycle. The traces spreading along fine palm lines resembled the veins drawn on red leaves. Staring blankly at this strange, pulsing hand as if it weren’t my own, my head spun, and both body and mind trembled as if I might collapse.
What is this.
What was this.
As if wanting to say something, my sister’s twisted lips trembled in my arms and moved slightly. But as if the noise of the people had been erased from my ears, I could not hear Ivnoa’s voice either.
I thought I could not hear it.
Someone took Ivnoa from my arms. Surrounded by people, my sister lay on the floor, her skirt a pale pink. Red patterns stood out and scattered as if someone had been trying to draw a fitting picture there. Seized by the strange but beautiful thought, there was a hand within my mind that gripped me as if I were going mad.
Like scattered petals of a freshly broken rose,
A sister so beautiful she seemed on the verge of madness.
3. Two Demonic
He was strong even without possessing anything.
He was one who conquered even without weapons.
He would soar even without wings
And cross a thousand bridges to reach his destination.
When Duke Arnim nodded on the third attempt, the servant departed to summon the guest. As the servant exhaled and closed the door behind him, only two figures remained in the Study.
The Duke sat in a chair beyond the desk, turning a glass over in his hands. It was a thick, fine glass—the sort that would not shatter even if dropped from a considerable height. Dozens of such glasses had been stacked in the Banquet Hall mere moments before.
Of all of them, it had to be this one.
As the Duke fell into prolonged silence, the guest approached the desk. Without seeking the Duke’s permission, he pulled up a chair and sat.
“Duke.”
The Duke seemed not to hear, his gaze fixed upon the glass. Through its pristine surface, unmarred by a single blemish, he sought to pierce through secrets that once existed.
“Franz.”
There were only two people in this world who could address the Duke in such a manner. That voice drew Franz back to a distant island, to a night when storms had raged. A spasm crossed Franz’s face. What had become of the promise made that day?
As Franz lifted his head, he beheld eyes of brilliant blue before him. The sole member of House of Arnim to possess blue eyes—yet one who had never returned to the Manor since departing the Family Clan. The demonic Hispanie stood there.
“Forgive me.”
After those first words fell, the two remained locked in each other’s gaze for a long time. At last, Hispanie spoke, grinding out the words.
“I do not truly wish to forgive you.”
Franz understood the disappointment, the reproach, and the anguish in that voice. There was a cause for today’s events. Perhaps not a direct one, but that choice had swelled immensely and brought them to this moment.
Eleven years ago, Franz had sought out Hispanie. The uncle who was said to have vanished without a trace, yet who in truth had established his own Territory upon the Sea. Franz had gone to ask him: how could Joshua, born as a demonic, be saved?
Then Hispanie had spoken. Send the child to me, he said, so that he might grow without his parents’ knowledge, without the Family Clan’s knowledge, not even knowing who he himself was.
And Franz had refused.
Children of Rune – Winterer
Author: Jeon Min-hee
Publisher: 14 Month Books
The copyright to this book belongs to the author and 14 Month 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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