Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 318

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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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To become a complete person,
one must be somewhat more than human,
and somewhat less than human as well.
– Merleau-Ponty
(Maurice Merleau-Ponty, 1908~1961)
Children of the Rune
Demonic
Episode 88.
Ninety-Eight Souls (1)
Act 5. Noise
1. The Young Boy Reading
Fallen petals had left stains in one corner of the page.
Light impressions as if touched by a fingertip, fingerprints left behind by the wind’s gentle press.
As summer drew near, apple blossoms fell white across the courtyard of Royal Grome School. Heat was arriving even in Keltika, the northern city.
The floor of the columned gallery surrounding the rectangular courtyard was a dull, patternless ash-gray, yet at this time of year it bore white flower marks pressed like dried flowers. More petals drifted across it. When the apple blossoms had scattered and been crushed and finally vanished, true summer would arrive.
But the apple trees filling the courtyard still wore white blossoms in their branches. Now and then, a breeze heavy with fragrance would pluck a handful of flowers and scatter them.
A young boy stood against the inner wall of the gallery facing the building, reading a book as if waiting for someone.
The gallery was a passage connecting the student dormitory to the lecture hall. It was three o’clock, when classes had just ended and many students passed through. Though his head was bowed, the young boy drew the attention of many. Despite wearing nothing remarkable—a loose white shirt, black vest, and trousers—the eyes of passing students lingered on him of their own accord.
Beside where the young boy stood was a recessed alcove containing a beautiful sculpture of a fairy carved a hundred years ago. Yet the fairy, now aged to a dull brownish hue, could not match the radiance of the young boy, who had lived barely a dozen years. The stone bearing the fairy’s likeness would endure another hundred years, but when the boy—who would shine briefly and fade—disappeared, another child would grow and walk the gallery like an incarnation of beauty. In the distant future…
But now was the boy’s time. His angular jaw was becoming masculine and had a youthful sharpness, and the hair obscuring his eyes was also tinged with blue. His slender hands, with prominent bone structure, conveyed a stubborn quality. The book he held was quite thick. His arm would grow weary holding it while waiting for a friend to read lightly. The pages were turning so rapidly that it seemed less like reading and more like flipping through.
Yet a friend who knew the young boy well would understand that he was indeed reading. The sound of footsteps tapping across the white-marked gallery floor rang out, and as the boy lifted his head, his friend—hands thrust into his pockets—smiled broadly.
“Did you find it?”
The young boy smiled at his friend’s question.
“I found it.”
His friend glanced sidelong at the book’s thickness and the section the boy had been reading.
“Seriously, you’re almost done with it.”
“I’d read it before, so it was easier.”
Beyond the two of them, faceless students flowed past like waves. As if substituting for the passage of time itself.
“Yien!”
One of the students broke from the current and entered their world. The friend whose name was called turned around.
“Oh, Hailjer? I thought you had supplementary classes until late today?”
Hailjer, large-framed and looking like a fighter, laughed shyly in a way that contradicted his appearance.
“I skipped it.”
Yien shook his fingers left and right with a playful expression.
“That’s troublesome, troublesome. Failing is not a recommended option.”
“Whether I attend supplementary classes or not, failing logic is already irreversible. I’d rather spend the extra time in the sun instead.”
Though he spoke casually, Hailjer seemed to find Yien intimidating. He treated the slender Yien, who looked as if he couldn’t throw a single punch even if a fight broke out, with careful caution—a young man who had already shed his boyish years feared making even a single mistake.
But Yien’s manner remained that of an easygoing friend.
“Borrow some logic from a friend. Why keep a friend who can solve any logic problem with eyes closed? Isn’t that right, Langier?”
Langier Rosencrantz, the young boy from before, closed his book and tucked it under his arm, looking up at the tall Hailjer.
“Study logic. You’ll need it.”
At Langier’s words, Hailjer immediately nodded in agreement.
“Got it. I’ll go get a supplementary lesson then.”
Most young boys would have brushed off a friend’s casual remark, but Hailjer left immediately after a brief farewell. Langier watched his retreating figure before speaking.
“I didn’t mean it quite like that….”
“That’s the thing.”
Yien finished the thought, and both of them let out soft chuckles. But soon Langier shook his head and continued.
“What I meant was….”
“That you were being sincere with Hailjer? Come on, don’t bother. Do you think I don’t know you? The problem is that Hailjer treats your every word like scripture. You’re not the type to tease a friend.”
Yien’s voice carried a playful, mischievous tone as if he wanted to joke, but even as Langier smiled, he shook his head.
“What do you take me for? Of course logic is worth studying. But on a day like today….”
Langier caught a falling apple blossom and opened his palm to show it.
“I wasn’t telling him to attend supplementary lessons on such a beautiful day.”
Yien burst into hearty laughter.
“Hahahaha… Langier, you can say things like that? Take back what I said earlier—cancel it. I guess I still don’t know everything about you. Thanks for showing me another unexpected side. You’re like an onion, friend.”
The two began walking along the Gallery Corridor in the opposite direction from where Hailjer had gone, toward the student dormitory building.
At the Royal Grome School located on the outskirts of Keltika, more than half the students commuted, making dormitory residents a minority. However, even among those living in the dormitory, the facilities varied greatly. Yien had a spacious two-story room on the second floor with a good view and even a small living room—a privilege granted only to students from the Nobility like Yien. In contrast, Langier occupied a cramped fourth-floor room barely large enough for a bed and desk.
Though Langier had a tidy nature, the room was so narrow that he had no choice but to stack books precariously throughout. Yien often joked that if he pulled just one book from anywhere, a chain collapse would occur and bury the entire room, making it easy for anyone wanting to eliminate him. Exaggerating mischievously was one of Yien’s long-standing habits.
As always, once they settled in Yien’s living room, one naturally double-locked the door while the other drew the curtains closed. As they approached the table, a letter peeked out from among scattered papers. Though already opened and read, Langier picked it up and examined only the wax seal before speaking.
“Doesn’t seem like you’ve had this long.”
Yien, pulling up a chair, glanced over and quickly caught on, letting out a snort of derision.
“It’s addressed to ‘My beloved daughter Yienna,’ not me.”
The seal bore the crest of Yien’s father, Count Amaranth’s House. Langier set it down without touching the contents.
“Then that Yienna should write a reply.”
“Wait, where did that Yienna go?”
‘Yienna’ was of course Yien himself. The Count’s daughter—Yienna Cattleya da Amaranth. There was nothing in his bearing or speech that suggested a high-born noble’s daughter, but at home he would be called ‘Miss.’ Yet at school, he never wore a dress, always in trousers, appearing to outsiders as a somewhat delicate boy. The rumor that the Count’s young lady would get angry if not treated as a boy was famous enough that almost no one at school treated Yien as female.
‘Yien’ was a childhood nickname, but he insisted on it precisely because it didn’t sound like a proper Count’s daughter. Only a few teachers with preconceived notions about what nobility should be like still insisted on ‘Yienna.’ Each time, Yien would scowl and respond with increasing delinquency.
Langier turned his attention back to the book, opening it to the middle and flipping through several pages before finding a particular spot. He turned it to face Yien, who leaned in to look.
“Hmm….”
At first glance, it looked no different from any other page. The book dealt with indigenous religions across various regions of Anomarad, and the open page was describing those who believed in the ‘Mother of Milk,’ a fertility goddess of the Southern Region. But on the fifth line, an inverted ‘3’ appeared to be a typographical error.
“A 3.”
Yien nodded and immediately flipped ahead three pages to find the next character. There was another inverted letter, and Yien extracted the word from three lines below that point, writing it on a piece of paper.
Full Authority
The next letter was thirty pages later. There were no more typeset mistakes, so I found the same line where the letters ‘plenipotentiary’ were written, selected all the ‘ㅣ’ and ‘ㅇ’ in the sentences starting three lines below, and transcribed them like numbers. The next sentence was the same.
11011
1011
He flipped ahead three more pages. On that page’s corresponding line, he went down three lines again. The beginning read:
At the corner
He flipped ahead another thirty pages and, following the same pattern, went down three lines from the matching line. There was a quotation beginning with quotation marks, and Yien carefully counted the letters according to the rule, extracting characters. When he finished, it formed quite a long sentence. The first part began: ‘The second proposal has been approved. However, it must be contingent on successful implementation….’
Yien, scanning through the completed sentence, tilted his head and let out an exclamation of admiration.
“Whew, I expected as much, but this is far from ordinary, isn’t it? It seems the leadership has quite substantial hopes riding on this operation.”
Langier finished reading the document but maintained his silence without comment. Yien studied his friend’s expression before asking.
“Does the content displease you? I think the risks involved are worth taking. The target is sound, after all. A chance to strike at the traitor Arnim from behind? Doesn’t that whet your appetite?”
Langier reread the paper several times over, then held it to the candlelight and burned it cleanly. After gathering the ashes and sprinkling them into a flowerpot, he returned to the table and sat down, speaking slowly.
“The target isn’t for us to decide, so there’s no need for commentary. From a strategic perspective, the terms of this proposed negotiation appear reasonable enough—the balance is sound. However, I detected excessive expectations from the leadership between the lines, which troubles me somewhat. But there’s a far greater problem than that. I’d call it one of the most difficult issues to resolve in an organization structured like ours.”
“What is it?”
Langier closed the book and tapped the cover several times with his fingertips.
“The Exile Council issuing the orders has no idea whatsoever who they’re dealing with on the receiving end.”
Children of Rune – Winterer
Author: Jeon Min-hee
Publisher: 14 Months Publishing
The rights to this book belong to the author and 14 Months Publishing.
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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