Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 358

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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 128.
May Your Final Performance
Be Your Greatest (3)
“A list? What list?”
“It’s the list of performance staff who need to review the script before we send it out. We have to select people to work with, don’t we? A messenger is coming at lunch today to deliver it, so you’ll need to have the list and addresses ready by then, Etern. Pulling it all together in a single day—well, only someone with nothing to do could manage that.”
“Who ordered that?”
This time, I could almost predict the answer.
“Hispania.”
The situation was becoming increasingly murky. Just then, I heard the sound of two or three people entering from behind, and someone called out loudly.
“You ordered interior renovation work here, right? We’re starting at ten, but we came by to inspect the site first.”
Callaimon spun around. At the bottom of the staircase stood two men with the bearing of carpenters or furniture makers, and a woman holding several sheets of paper. It would be an obviously foolish question given that I was supposedly the Theater Master, but I had no choice but to ask.
“Wait, renovation? What needs repairing? And today of all days?”
“We heard the audience seating in the theater is being replaced with new ones. Removing the tables and installing only single seats. Is that the place?”
Without asking further, they ascended the stairs on their own and gazed down at the theater where dancers lay scattered about sleeping in various places. Their eyes widened. But it wasn’t the dancers that surprised them. They strode further into the theater, looking around, and their expressions grew even more amazed.
“Wow, it’s really identical, isn’t it? Did he design it himself?”
“That can’t be. Think about his age. Look at how old this theater is. It’s been at least ten years since the last renovation.”
“Right. You can’t design something at ten years old.”
Callaimon, following behind them, called them to a halt.
“Hold on! What are you talking about? Did Etern arrange this renovation? And you’re saying you’re starting work suddenly during peak season like this? What do you mean about a design?”
The three of them stared at him with blank expressions. The woman holding the papers spoke.
“What do you mean ‘what are you talking about’? We received an order, so we came to work. If you’re staff, why don’t you have these young ladies here leave so we can get to work.”
But the dancers also looked like they were hearing about the theater renovation for the first time. Callaimon’s expression grew suspicious.
“However Etern chooses to run the theater isn’t really my place to criticize, but the idea of suddenly starting interior work at a time like this seems rather odd. If this really is what’s been decided, show me a contract before you begin work. After all, I am the Theater Master of this establishment.”
At the mention of Theater Master, the three exchanged glances of confusion and returned to the theater entrance where Callaimon stood.
“You’re the Theater Master? Then how is it you didn’t know we were coming?”
“I don’t directly manage the theater’s operations, so I might not know, but it seems no one else knows either?”
“But we definitely received a deposit.”
“A deposit? From whom exactly?”
The answer came out—one I’d grown very familiar with this morning.
“From someone named Hispania.”
Callaimon’s eyes rolled with a peculiar expression, and he looked down at the dancers who wore similar expressions. When Amarilli’s eyes met his, she couldn’t help but giggle. Soon the other dancers began laughing along, and the three visitors looked even more bewildered.
“Isn’t Hispania part of this theater? No, wait—he must be. He has to be. So what’s going on? Can someone explain?”
“I’m the one who’d like an explanation. What exactly did that fellow tell you?”
“Ah, so you do know him? I thought he was a staff member here. He kept pressing us, saying the timeline was tight and to start work the very next morning. When we said we couldn’t start without seeing the interior of the theater first, he….”
The woman handed Callaimon the papers she’d been holding.
“He just picked up a pen and sketched all this out in a flash.”
As Callaimon examined the papers, his brow furrowed deeply without his realizing it. It looked hastily drawn at first glance, but upon closer inspection, it contained measurements and was so precise you could construct an entirely new building from it. It included three elevation drawings from the front and both sides, a floor plan with every detail including columns and hidden wall sections, and even a sketch of the theater’s appearance after renovation.
“How could we think he wasn’t a staff member when he drew something like this out of nowhere? Honestly, we were so astounded watching him produce this with nothing but a pen—no reference materials, not even a ruler—that we didn’t hesitate and agreed to do the work immediately. That person is a monster. We decided to skip the blueprints and start construction right away.”
Callaimon stared at the papers without responding, and the three asked again.
“So is that person a staff member or not? Should we proceed with the work or not?”
Callaimon’s mind churned through the confusion, but ultimately he reached only one conclusion: this wasn’t his place to interfere.
“So… I’m not the one who decides such things… and scheduling is none of my concern! I’m merely the Theater Master who provides the funds!”
The confession was so honest that the dancers stifled their laughter with barely suppressed giggles. The three men nodded in agreement.
“Exactly as we thought! We knew it. Well then, we’ll get to work. Hey, go tell everyone to come in!”
As the workers began filing in, the dancers—now fully awake—gathered their belongings and slowly filed out of the theater. The three men who had walked to the stage could be heard marveling among themselves.
“Look at those paintings. They’re quite impressive, aren’t they?”
Amarilli turned back from the entrance and called out proudly.
“Hispania painted those! And he did it all in just one night!”
Callaimon found this absurd and called out to Amarilli.
“Wait a moment—since when did he become ‘our Hispania’? How long have you even known him?”
Another dancer giggled in response.
“He’s impressive, so we can call him that!”
“Oh, are you jealous, Theater Master? Should we call you ‘our Captain Callaimon’ too?”
“Yes! Our Captain Callaimon!”
“You girls—!”
Callaimon was feared by every grown man in the harbor, yet there were few men who could maintain their composure before a group of young women laughing in unison.
“Don’t all act like this is perfectly normal! If you run the theater this way, it won’t… it can’t work! You see, what I mean is…”
Amarilli pouted playfully, tilting her head.
“Am I the Theater Master? Why are you telling me this? I only did what I was told to do.”
“The important thing is who told you to do it!”
At that, everyone nodded vigorously.
“Absolutely. That’s a very important matter indeed.”
2. The Invited Guests
You didn’t invite only people. You invited their jealousy along with them.
In the afternoon, the sparse southern sky finally clouded over satisfyingly. That day, the people of Kalayso watched several delivery runners dart about with nothing but a hood to shield their heads from the drizzling rain. The rain continued until dusk. They disappeared from sight only when twilight settled on the streets and the lamps in the Inns and Taverns began to flicker on, one by one.
Giovann Hantke, who had been resting at the Beach Villa, received a package delivered by messenger and, hearing it was from the Diamond Rush Theater, shook his head with a laugh.
“Diamond Rush? That place where clumsy dancers come rushing out and shake their hips in some bizarre way, yet somehow their movements are perfectly synchronized? I’ve always wondered how they manage to shake their hips so uniformly. At least I’ll be able to satisfy that curiosity if I go this time.”
Henon, the secretary who had brought the package, smiled somewhat ambiguously.
“So you’re thinking of going, then?”
“What are you talking about! What good would it do me to learn how dancers shake their hips? Listen, Henon—how many first-rate dancers have I trained over the years? And has the Diamond Rush Theater ever once put on a performance that required someone like me? I have no interest in being a mere instructor for showgirls.”
“But…”
Henon trailed off, his cheek and eye twitching as if he’d tasted something sour. Though Henon was Giovann’s secretary, he was also an old friend, so Giovann immediately understood what his friend was thinking.
“But what? Is there something different about this time? Did someone like Will Maycock agree to direct?”
“Well, I’m not sure if Maycock will direct, but it seems he’s been invited.”
Giovann furrowed his handsome brow.
“Invited? What do you mean by that? Either he directs or he doesn’t. Maycock isn’t even an audience member—what kind of invitation is this?”
Henon, deciding the moment was right, handed over the letter he had taken from the package.
“That’s right—an invitation. In fact, you’ve been invited as well. Read this letter.”
Before reading the letter, Giovann’s eyes fell first on the stack of scripts that had come from the package. The cover read “The Wedding of Il de Morbiane.”
Rigi Strauss, who had been on the terrace contemplating whether to have a cup of tea while gazing at the rain-cleared garden, received a wet package from a messenger whose hair was dripping water. Strauss slowly set down his steaming teacup on the tea table, opened the package, and took another sip of tea before examining its contents.
He then produced a bundle of papers, took another sip, read the title, and drank again. As he unfolded the enclosed letter, he refilled his teacup twice before finishing it. When Rigi Strauss began reading the draft script of “The Wedding of Île de Morbihan” right there, his elderly wife thought she ought to prepare another three pots of tea, but her concern proved unnecessary.
After the first two pages, Rigi Strauss did not take another sip. White steam rose weakly into the cool night air and gradually ceased to rise at all.
After reading the final page and closing the script, Strauss drained the now-cold tea in one gulp and gestured to his wife on the terrace. As she approached, he spoke.
“Cancel my appointment to visit Will’s home tomorrow at lunch. Tell him something urgent has come up that I must attend to….”
His wife smiled softly.
“I suspect you’ll be able to meet with Mr. Maycock tomorrow after all.”
Strauss asked politely.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Mr. Maycock sent the same message just a moment ago.”
Children of Rune – Winterer
Author: Jeon Min-hee
Published by: 14 Months Publishing
The copyright of 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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