Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 324

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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 94.
Ninety-Eight Souls (7)
The two faced each other. When Joshua realized that the situation had become genuinely dire—desperate enough that he’d eat raw potatoes—they both fell silent, uncertain what expression to wear, and could only nod their heads.
In any case, since the glass was already broken, the three gazed outward with the faint hope that they might finally escape. Then, bewildered, they whispered to one another.
“Wasn’t that a Meadow just moments ago?”
“Yes, it looked like an autumn field.”
“I even saw leaves blowing in the wind.”
“But… that’s a Staircase, isn’t it?”
The Staircase they had climbed two days prior stood before them. Of course, it might not have been the same one, but the location was identical. A wall with that peculiar window blocked the way, but the Staircase itself had not vanished.
Maximian flicked away the glass shards clinging to the frame with his fingertip, then scowled as he cursed under his breath.
“This Mage is toying with us. Wherever he’s hiding, I’ll find him and shove my face right in front of his.”
The three cleared away the glass, climbed through the window, and leaped toward the Staircase. Satisfied at having overcome one obstacle, they momentarily forgot their hunger. They raced down the Staircase, and after two turns, a door appeared. It was unlocked, so they pushed through easily.
And for the second time, they were left utterly dumbfounded.
“What is this place?”
The chamber was as vast as a Warehouse, its walls lined with massive bricks on all sides, creating an atmosphere entirely different from anything they’d seen before. It resembled nothing so much as an Underground Prison. But what overwhelmed the visitors most was the mountain of straw bundles that filled the room to bursting and piled even against the ceiling.
“What is all this straw?”
“Does the Mage farm as well?”
As Riche looked about, she spotted something suspicious in one corner—a spinning wheel. But it was an old-fashioned device no longer in use, and no thread clung to it whatsoever, so without Riche, they would never have recognized it for what it was.
Riche approached and tapped the wheel; it spun briefly before stopping. She burst into helpless laughter.
“Ha, haha… Is he asking us to spin straw into gold thread?”
“Or perhaps he’s already spun gold thread from straw. That Mage seems capable of such things.”
Maximian, having spoken thus, alternated his gaze between the wheel and the straw bundles with obvious displeasure before speaking again.
“Does this fellow spend his days reading children’s tales instead of conducting magical research?”
“This Mage must be quite fond of old stories.”
“Then as we go further, should we expect to meet someone demanding to trade a gold nugget for a whetstone, and an Old Woman Spirit brewing stone soup?”
At Maximian’s words, Joshua smiled faintly.
“The Mage might be sitting in a candy house, tending a fire in the hearth and waiting.”
“How convenient. Your fingers should keep him occupied for the next half year at least.”
Riche, who had been absently sitting at the wheel, suddenly cried out, and the two abandoned their jest.
“Come look at this!”
As they rushed over, Riche pointed to where the thread emerged from the wheel. And there, sure enough, were several strands of golden thread caught upon it.
“Look at this.”
“A Mage who turns jests into truth.”
Joshua, picking up the golden thread with his fingertips, was merely fascinated, but Maximian snatched it away quickly and examined it from every angle with a grave expression. If this was genuine gold, it was far from a trivial matter for him.
Riche shared his concern.
“Is it real gold?”
“Unfortunately, I cannot say.”
If it had been a gold ring, he might have bitten it to test, but this was far too fine and possessed an elasticity like actual thread, making it difficult to declare it gold with certainty. Yet it seemed a shame to deny it entirely. Moreover, for thread, it was somewhat heavy.
“Riche, do you know how to operate a spinning wheel?”
Riche had already been carefully examining the wheel from every angle. But she soon shook her head and spoke.
“It’s too old—I’m not even sure what it is. Nobody uses these anymore. Besides, I’ve never actually spun thread before.”
Maximian persisted stubbornly.
“But you’re a seamstress. Thread should be something you know intimately, shouldn’t it?”
“Listen, at our Costume Workshop, thread arrives in bundles already prepared. We don’t make it ourselves.”
“Even so, you must be better at this than I am—I’ve only ever mended torn trousers. Just give it a try.”
“So you turn it like this…?”
Unlike the other two, Joshua remained remarkably unbothered. I stepped back from the spinning wheel, dropped myself onto a hay bale with a soft thump, and offered a jest.
“Riche, be careful not to prick your finger on the spindle.”
Surprisingly, Maximian nodded in agreement.
“That’s right. If that Mage is involved, he’d probably coat the spindle tip with sleeping poison just for good measure. You can’t let your guard down.”
For the next half hour, Riche wrestled with the decrepit spinning wheel (while Maximian cheered her on from the sidelines). When Joshua, having nothing else to do, sprawled out on the hay with his arm as a pillow, Maximian shot him an irritated look.
“You have no interest in my efforts to acquire a four-horse carriage and servants for a culinary journey?”
Joshua sat up at that, his expression puzzled.
“Maximian, do you really believe straw might turn into golden thread? That’s not like you at all.”
“Be quiet. This Mage is unpredictable—who knows what he might do.”
“But if you think that way, then as you said earlier, he might turn the golden thread back into straw and have some left over.”
“Why must you always think that way in situations like this?”
“You’re the one who said it first.”
Remarkably, for such circumstances, their efforts bore fruit. Perhaps because they’d quarreled yesterday over being born into poor families and had grown closer as a result—in any case, the wheel began to turn gradually, and it produced a single strand of something that might have been golden thread. Both of them cried out in triumph, but the straw was too short and snapped, so the wheel stopped. Yet the joy of success overshadowed such disappointment.
“Quickly, wind it into a coil. Let me check its weight.”
“Let’s combine it with what we made before.”
Joshua, who had fallen asleep on the soft hay bale and been awakened by their excited shouts, surveyed the situation and muttered.
“At this rate, you’ll be up all night just to make a single gold coin.”
Though he meant no harm, both of them widened their eyes and turned to stare at him, so Joshua quickly corrected himself.
“No, I mean—it’ll probably get faster as you go.”
“Joshua, stop joking and start tying straw together. Otherwise, your job is stable boy.”
“I don’t mind being a stable boy, but…”
Joshua began half-heartedly twisting straw together while glancing around. Whether intuition or deduction, something told me this problem would be solved another way. Besides, even if they succeeded in spinning golden thread, it had nothing to do with their original plan to escape this place and find The Mage.
Shortly after, Joshua began searching through the hay bale. As straw kept flying everywhere, Maximian, who had been peering at the spinning wheel, lifted his head.
“Joshua, have you burrowed into that hay pile? What are you doing in there? What are you looking for?”
Joshua didn’t answer, just kept digging through the hay until he finally found what he was searching for. From a smaller pile of straw stacked to one side, two human feet protruded—wearing pointed blue shoes with sharp noses.
“I knew it.”
Joshua grabbed the feet and pulled. Instead of being dragged out, the figure startled awake and bolted upright from the hay. Riche, turning around, gasped in surprise. And no wonder—the person who appeared was The Mage they’d been searching for. Maximian’s eyes went wide as he asked.
“What were you doing in there?”
The Mage, the moment he stood up, yawned so widely his mouth nearly split, then surveyed the three of them with displeasure before launching into a series of sneezes.
“What time is it? Wait—is today that day? Achoo! You slow creatures, making a Mage wait. I only needed half a day…”
The Mage, still groggy from sleep, rambled on incomprehensibly. At that moment, Joshua, the only one who remained unruffled, shouted loudly.
“I’m starving!”
His cry reminded the other two of their most pressing problem. They both cried out in turn.
“You made us work ourselves to exhaustion and didn’t even give us food? Does being a Mage exempt you from having a conscience?”
“You don’t mean to suggest you’ve been waiting for us here all this time? From potatoes to straw—what exactly do you want from us?”
“Such humorless creatures.”
The Mage muttered something unintelligible under his breath before suddenly making a declaration.
“I had wished to enjoy amusement with you, but since you failed to appear for a day and a half, I slept far too much and sneezed from the dust, and while waiting I grew bored and my mood soured. Therefore, I shall pose you an extraordinarily difficult riddle. If you fail, you cannot leave—so live here diligently.”
“That’s not how it works! In the old stories, if you spin all the straw into gold thread, they let you go!”
When Riche protested, The Mage spoke as though amused.
“How do you spin straw into gold thread?”
“What, what do you mean?”
The two of them were far from pleased, but The Mage paid them no mind and lifted his chin. Joshua, guessing what was coming, smiled to himself.
“Then I shall tell you the riddle. Given the place and the atmosphere, at my discretion—or rather, by tradition—the riddle is simply this: guess my name! It’s unlikely, but if you manage it, I shall grant each of you one wish…”
Before he could finish speaking, Riche mimicked the exact expression The Mage had worn moments before, even sticking her tongue out, and said:
“Your name is Alberic Juspian, isn’t it?”
4. The Origin of the Doppelgänger
Perhaps those who encounter a doppelgänger die because they lose themselves. Or perhaps it is because everyone forgets them.
The Round Room, with its large window facing forward, seemed ideal for taking tea in the sunlight. It even appeared spacious enough for a group of ten to take tea together. It was a mystery why such a grand Salon had been built in a house where guests seemed unlikely to visit. Still, the fact that I had entered here meant that my status had finally been elevated from trespasser or Underground Prison inmate to that of a guest.
Since the three of us had eaten our fill, we were largely satisfied, but the person sitting across from us was in poor spirits. Joshua surmised that The Mage was displeased because the riddle he had so carefully crafted had become useless. There was nothing to be done about it. Had we pretended not to know his name there, we would surely have been confined for another three days or so.
The Mage asked Riche again, as if to confirm.
“You’re saying you’re Caesar’s Daughter? That one, what was it—tiny as a bean, never listened to a word?”
Children of Rune – Winterer
Author: Jeon Min-hee
Publisher: 14 Months Publishing
The copyright to this book belongs 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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