Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 357

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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 127.
May Your Final Performance
Be Your Greatest (2)
At eleven o’clock on a summer night, the theaters of Kalayso divided into two distinct categories: those preparing to close their doors, and those thronged with patrons, their entrances blazing with brilliant lamps.
The practice of offering spirits and sustenance to those who wandered the streets after sunset to escape the day’s oppressive heat, coupled with an exhilarating show, had become wildly popular each year in this sweltering harbor. Theaters competed fiercely with provocative repertoires to capture the night crowds seeking spectacles grand enough to banish the heat from their minds. Consequently, theaters whose masters maintained propriety saw their patrons dwindle, and many abandoned their evening performances altogether. Only a handful remained—those featuring popular performers or dancers whose costumes left little to imagination.
Joshua crossed the brilliantly lit theater district alone. Among couples with linked arms and clusters of sailors swaying with drink, he was the only one walking briskly without companions. As he approached one theater’s entrance, a performance had just concluded, and crowds poured forth. Joshua lingered a few paces away, observing them converse amongst themselves, and smiled quietly to himself. I had always enjoyed watching audiences. Even during my time as Max Cardi, I had walked past theaters with my mask removed.
As the crowds dispersed, Joshua entered the darkened theater immediately beside him—Diamond Rush.
In the reception hall, only two cleaners were visible. Ascending the staircase into the waiting room, I found roughly a dozen dancers already with their makeup removed and fresh clothes donned, chatting amongst themselves. They turned their heads in feigned surprise at my entrance.
“My goodness!”
“You actually came!”
“What happened? What’s the news?”
Joshua stood in the doorway, offering them a smile.
“Everyone, I’m afraid you’ll need to spend tonight with me.”
At that moment, Amaryllis Crown emerged from the corridor opposite, opened the door, and upon hearing those words, burst into laughter.
“Words like that make one’s expectations soar!”
“Your expectations are welcome—I have mountains of work for you.”
Joshua pulled up a chair and sat, soon surrounded by the dancers. He withdrew a tightly rolled bundle of papers from his pocket and displayed them; the papers quickly passed from hand to hand. The first dancer to unfurl them sighed in dismay.
“Ugh, how many pages is this? We’re all finished tonight.”
“Shouldn’t we call in more people?”
“Is there anyone left to call?”
“Do we really have to finish all of this by tomorrow?”
When the bundle reached Amaryllis’s hands, her eyes narrowed subtly as she scanned the contents. She was undoubtedly racking her mind for an escape route. Yet even her considerable intellect could not devise a clever solution. As the papers circled back to Joshua, who flipped through the pages, he spoke.
“Now then, I shall entrust you specifically with the climactic wedding scene.”
Amaryllis narrowed her eyes and lowered her voice.
“Not that. You know what I want.”
“Marie de Trois? Absolutely not. You’ll have to make do with what you’re given.”
“Damn it, that’s too much.”
Amaryllis rose abruptly as though enraged, though it was merely theater on her part—she wasn’t truly angry. The role was far too demanding for her to realistically perform. She was a popular ballerina and actress, but her popularity did not stem from her singing voice. She knew this truth about herself well.
“The deadline is tomorrow morning at ten o’clock.”
This time, all the dancers cried out in unison.
“That’s impossible!”
“It must be finished by then. Someone will arrive to help you.”
Before the words had even finished, the corridor door swung open and a figure poked their head through. It was Riche.
“Huh?”
Upon seeing Joshua surrounded by roughly a dozen dancers, Riche raised her eyebrows as though to ask, “What on earth are you doing in that configuration?” The dancers, observing her expression, did not react favorably.
“Who is she?”
“Why does she look like that? Did she eat something bad?”
“What’s her business here?”
Riche was not the type to offer a polite bow upon hearing such remarks.
“I have no business with any of you.”
Amaryllis Crown replied.
“But why are you staring at me with that cute expression? Do you have a complaint?”
Riche opened her eyes wide and glanced sideways at Joshua.
“Me? Why would I? You should be the ones complaining. Experience it yourselves today. Then I’m going to bed.”
The moment she said this, she quickly pulled her head back and shut the door, leaving the dancers no chance to respond.
“What was that about!”
“Is she proud of being useless? Can’t she even write?”
The dancers then looked at Joshua as if seeking his support. Joshua, having caught sight of Riche’s expression moments before, pressed his temples and laughed as though he’d tasted something bitter, then rose and prepared to slip away.
“Don’t worry about it. Let’s begin. Now then, I shall——”
As Joshua moved toward the door through which Riche had vanished, Amaryllis Crown’s cheeks puffed out as she spoke.
“You’re leaving us to work while you follow that rude girl? Is she your girlfriend or something?”
Joshua turned around at the door. His smile remained, but his eyes—if such an expression were possible for him—had become stern.
“We didn’t gather here to joke around, did we?”
At those words, the dancers fell silent, then rose one by one and scattered to find their places to work. Amaryllis Crown, the last to remain, stood and faced Joshua, her lips twitching as if deciding whether to smile.
Joshua raised one corner of his mouth, creating a dimple.
“You’ll help, won’t you?”
“Of course. Hehe, we all gathered here willingly, didn’t we? You’re someone we never could have imagined. And you’re going to do something we never could have imagined. I really want to see what that will be.”
Joshua nodded without hesitation and swept back his bangs.
“That’s right. You will see.”
He turned the doorknob and waved with one hand as he disappeared. Just before turning away, Amaryllis Crown called after him toward the closed door with a giggle.
“Though I’m not sure it’ll work out properly with those burning eyes from the dancers who’ve fallen for you since yesterday’s performance on stage.”
The next morning, around eight o’clock.
Captain Kalaimon—or rather, Theater Master Kalaimon—had come to the theater for work. His appearance at such an early hour was unprecedented; he normally visited only three or four times a year. The Gatekeeper, who had been dozing while guarding the entrance, jolted awake in surprise.
“Oh! Captain! No, Theater Master! What brings you here at this hour?”
Kalaimon, wearing a collar starched as stiffly as if he were boarding a ship on its maiden voyage, his hair slicked back with oil, entered the lobby with an awkward smile, walking briskly down the corridor. When he saw the door to the performance hall standing wide open, his expression grew puzzled. The performance shouldn’t begin until around noon, and the hall was usually kept closed until then. Besides, wasn’t there a sound of activity?
As Kalaimon climbed the stairs and peered into the hall, he was so taken aback that he forgot about the oil in his hair and scratched the back of his head. The tables that usually sat in neat rows were scattered haphazardly, and papers, pens, and inkbottles lay strewn across each one. About a dozen dancers were slumped over the tables or asleep, their faces exhausted.
Moreover, on the stage at the front, two long clotheslines had been strung up out of nowhere, and dozens of paintings hung from them—so distant and unclear that they were difficult to make out. When had the theater become a painter’s studio?
At first, Kalaimon didn’t even know who these people were. Only when he spotted Amaryllis Crown leaning back in a chair in one corner, her head tilted back as she dozed, did he realize they were the theater’s dancers.
“What have they been doing all night?”
Amaryllis Crown slowly lifted her eyelids, discovered Kalaimon, tilted her head in confusion, then let out a soft giggle.
“Ah, well, you see, we were——”
Another dancer lifted her head.
“As you can see, we were conscripted for labor service.”
“Labor service?”
The dancer pointed with her finger at the table in the center. A pile of papers from the all-night effort lay heaped like a clam grave. Kalaimon carefully picked up the topmost sheet, afraid it might collapse if he touched it carelessly, and flipped through several pages.
“These are scripts.”
“That’s right. Scripts.”
Amaryllis Crown stood up. She walked between the tables, examining the scattered papers on each one, then gathered several sheets, bound them together, and placed them on top of the clam grave of papers.
“That’s the end of it.”
In the meantime, Kalaimon, who had unfolded something else, asked a question.
“These are all identical, aren’t they? Why did you copy so many?”
“Hispania told us to do it this way.”
She cut him off matter-of-factly, and Amaryllis Crown shook the sleeping dancers awake. Callaimon still wore an expression of utter bewilderment.
“So you’re telling me everyone stayed up all night because he ordered it?”
“There’s no one else to call, so all of us who can write came out. They’ve been writing all night until their fingers nearly broke—they’ve even memorized the pages they were assigned by now.”
Soon the dancers stirred awake, flexing their fingers and massaging their wrists, creating quite a commotion. Callaimon, utterly exasperated, finally spoke.
“So what about the performance later?”
“He said the ones who stayed up all night can rest today.”
“Wait, who said that?”
“Hispania, of course. Who else?”
This was becoming increasingly incomprehensible. When had Hispania even become someone who could order the Theater Company’s dancers around?
“And what are all those drawings?”
“Hispania drew them last night before he left.”
“What are they for?”
“Well… Hispania called them pamphlets, but I don’t know what a pamphlet is. I assume they’re for the performance?”
“Good grief.”
Callaimon tilted his head in confusion, clicking his tongue, when Amaryllis Crown suddenly remembered something and asked.
“By the way, what brings the Theater Master all the way here, and at such an early hour?”
“I came to meet Etern…”
“The Theater Master Etern? He’s probably in his office. Though he might be sleeping—assuming he’s finished compiling the list.”
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 this book’s contents, 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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