Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 296

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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 60.
Finding the Cat in the Furnace (15)
When I heard the knock at the door, I was running my fingers through my hair in place of a comb, having thrown open the window to escape the stench. Had it not been for this dreadful odor, I would have ventured outside to discover what had befallen me, but I lacked the confidence to face anyone in such a deplorable state. In any case, the unlocked door suggested I was not imprisoned. Driven by hunger, I had cracked the door open and snatched up a peculiar pastry resting on a wooden plate at the threshold, only to find it smelled strange and tasted abysmal.
“May I enter, Young Master?”
I tensed abruptly. The mask had vanished somewhere. Not knowing where I was, I could scarcely guess who might have come seeking me. Yet upon reflection, the form of address “Young Master” suggested this visitor sought Joshua von Arnim rather than Max Cardi.
“I know not who you are, but do come in.”
The door opened to reveal a middle-aged man of commanding bearing, his cloak draped across his shoulders. Within three seconds, before I could count to one, I recalled who he was.
“Ah, Sir Baiyer!”
He knelt before me and performed the salute of a knight, then rose with a smile and spoke.
“I am honored to be remembered.”
Sir Baiyer had been one of the knights who attended my father closely during my years at Jade Ring Castle. A hearty soul who had often engaged Father in martial contests, he carried memories of carrying young me upon his shoulders as he wandered the castle halls. With a haggard face brightened by genuine joy, I asked him.
“How did you come to this place? No, wait—did you bring me here?”
“I did not. I confess I know not who brought you here. However, when I inquired of the house’s master, those people apparently vanished during the night and have not returned. After you departed the villa, I was asked by Madame Bwaju to search for you, and only today did someone direct me to this house. It is truly fortunate.”
“….”
Sitting upon the bed, I gazed down at his face in silence before asking abruptly.
“How long have you been in Hyacan?”
“Some two months now. I apologize for not finding you sooner. But tell me, Young Master—are you unwell? Your complexion is quite poor.”
“That is….”
As I attempted to marshal my thoughts to answer his keen observation, a sudden, sharp headache struck, and the room began to spin. I felt Sir Baiyer’s hand steadying me.
“Allow me to take you to my residence. Though I might escort you to the villa, having reunited after so long, I trust Madame Bwaju would not fault me for offering you hospitality for a time.”
As my consciousness grew hazy, I heard his words. I believe I nodded in response.
“What did you say?”
Riche did not know what to make of it when Maximian glared at the Estate Manager Couple of Coralli as though ready to strike them down on the spot. Both of them were hardly in a position to treat their host disrespectfully after last night’s debt of gratitude. Yet Maximian seemed to have already cast such considerations aside.
“You allowed them to take him away without protest and did not even ask where they were taking him? Moreover, you guided the person searching for him directly to his room?”
The Manager’s Wife finally grasped the gravity of the situation and assumed an apologetic expression, though her demeanor did not suggest she took it particularly seriously.
“The man arrived with dozens of soldiers. While we could not have stopped them, I regret we did not even ask. Something felt amiss, but the noble lord carried himself with such confidence and pressed forward so decisively that we had no opportunity to raise an objection. I apologize.”
“….”
Maximian deemed further argument with them pointless and, pressing his lips thin, turned to face Riche.
“Tell me—are there any villas in the vicinity that have remained vacant until recently?”
Riche shook her head with a troubled expression.
“There are more than one or two. Typically, villas don’t begin to fill until May arrives. At this time of year, it’s quite common for owners to return to their properties.”
“Then listen to the conditions I describe and tell me if any villa comes to mind. A secluded location without nearby bustling districts, modest in scale, unremarkable in appearance, with grounds spacious enough to serve as a training ground, particularly with a large stable, and lastly, positioned conveniently near the main road leading to the Rugran Border Gate or to the harbor.”
“What criteria are you speaking of?”
Even as she spoke, Riche mentally conjured the layout of the Villa District.
Whenever noblewomen ordered garments, she had to take measurements, show fabric samples, fit them—and each visit required her to go in person. Thus she knew the alleys of the Villa District as intimately as the palm of her hand. The shapes of the villas, too, became apparent when she recalled each alley one by one. Furrowing her brow, Riche turned to face Maximian.
“Give me paper and pen. I need to draw it out to be certain of anything.”
The moment Riche grasped the pen, she sketched several reference circles and began extending the lines outward. Most people would have roughed out the overall sketch before adding details, but Riche drew everything methodically, from west to east, in precise order.
“My goodness, husband. Look at what she’s drawn.”
The Manager’s Wife was so astonished she called to her husband. Once she had marked the spider-web-like alleys and the positions of numerous villas, she began drawing roughly a dozen circles. After studying them briefly, she selected five of them.
“I suspect it would be one of these.”
“Are you a painter?”
Maximian, who had been watching, seemed equally baffled. Riche looked up from the circles she’d been studying and replied.
“I’m a seamstress.”
“What kind of drawings does a seamstress make like this?”
“Seamstresses draw garment patterns too.”
“Do you draw patterns like this?”
“It’s not that I’m drawing them—it’s more like my hands are doing all the work, so there might be some similarity in that sense.”
Maximian picked up the paper, exchanged a gesture of farewell with the Estate Manager Couple, and walked out. When Riche caught up with him, Maximian muttered to himself.
“A useful assistant, this one.”
“Why am I your assistant!”
Maximian pretended not to hear.
“Once I find this troublesome demonic creature, I wonder what form of punishment I should inflict.”
Around 2 in the afternoon, the “young detective and beautiful assistant” had visited three villas and were catching their breath before approaching the fourth house.
“What’s with that ridiculous name?”
“What’s wrong with it? If I’m going to be called an assistant anyway, I might as well be a beautiful assistant.”
“Does just giving yourself a name make you a beautiful assistant?”
“What? Are you trying to say I’m not beautiful enough to qualify?”
As Riche’s eyes narrowed, Maximian quickly responded, unwilling to create unnecessary trouble.
“No, never mind. Let’s go, beautiful assistant.”
“After you, Detective.”
The two walked toward the main gate with confident strides—or rather, they didn’t. More than ten soldiers were guarding the entrance. Maximian declared that this significantly increased the likelihood that this was the house he was looking for. The “beautiful assistant” agreed.
“Do you have to call me a beautiful assistant at the end of every sentence?”
“As long as you don’t tell people to call us ‘the young detective and beautiful assistant,’ it’s fine, isn’t it?”
Maximian fell silent in thought before shaking his head.
“There’s no helping it.”
“What can’t be helped?”
Then Maximian spoke to Riche with eyes that conveyed “unwavering resolve,” “gravity,” and “a sense of mission.”
“For the safety of our client, we must sacrifice our own safety.”
“What! We never even took on a case!”
“In this case, it must have been before the ‘beautiful assistant’ was hired.”
“What if I don’t agree?”
“Then I’ll go alone. But typically in such situations, ‘beautiful assistants’ end up following the detective out of concern for his safety.”
“I’ve never read anything like that in any book!”
Yet Maximian was already striding toward the main gate, producing a letter from his pocket to show one of the soldiers. It bore the familiar seal of the House of Arnim, though its purpose had been repurposed.
“Urgent correspondence. The Duchess of Arnim in Keltika has instructed me to deliver this letter to the person residing here.”
Though only days had passed since arriving on The Island, the nature of Maximian’s schedule meant his appearance was exactly that of a messenger who had just arrived covered in dust. This detail lent a measure of credibility, allowing Maximian and the “beautiful assistant” who had reluctantly followed to successfully pass through the main gate.
7. The Doll Reawakened
A glass doll was trapped in a tall tower. The doll remembered the master who created her, but the master did not care for the doll. The doll waited, but the master never came, and time flowed on indifferently.
Vines crawled across the ground, climbing the tower, covering it, even blocking out the sunlight, but the glass doll paid no mind. Being a glass doll, she needed no food, no warmth, no place to sleep. She waited and waited and waited again, and a hundred years, a thousand years could have passed that way. Would the doll have given up her waiting?
No, the doll never gave up, never forgot. Because she was a doll.
Joshua tried to think of anything at all. But it proved impossible. Had he ever been so mentally vacant in his entire life?
His mind, which had always been sharp, now performed only the most basic functions. Whenever he attempted to delve deeper into any thought, his head invariably spun, cold sweat beaded on his skin, and his sense of reality dissolved. Most troubling of all was the difficulty in recalling what had transpired at the Theater. It was a form of trauma response, yet experiencing such a thing for the first time, Joshua could make no sense of it.
He had no choice but to try moving his body. Yet even as he walked, he felt like a ghost drifting through the Gallery Corridor. In an effort to reclaim his grip on reality, he deliberately took slow, measured steps, but the moment his attention wavered, he would find himself swept to the far end of the corridor as though carried by wind.
Counting the floor tiles as he walked was a modest enough goal. Yet his mind, requiring no particular energy for such a task, had memorized not only the number of tiles after a single pass, but also the twenty-four distinct patterns carved into the capitals of each pillar—rendering all concentration impossible.
The Courtyard’s layout was peculiar. Narrow and elongated, with buildings to the north and a wall barring the south, it connected to the rest of the Manor through only a single passage—a narrow path leading to the front courtyard. In other words, every door in the building opened only onto the Courtyard. A soldier or two sat before the narrow path, and whenever Joshua approached, they would spring to their feet and ask, “Where are you going, sir?” After stammering and muttering “nowhere in particular,” he would turn back, yet an unease lingered.
“It feels like being trapped.”
Children of Rune – Winterer
Author: Jeon Min-hee
Publisher: 14 Month Books
The copyright of 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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