Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 363

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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 133.
May Your Final Performance
Be Your Greatest (8)
“Well, I’d like to explain, but for now it must remain confidential. Just think of it as a given that the producer sets the opening date.”
Even as I spoke, I found myself amused by my own evasiveness and lowered my head with a laugh. Though my playfulness bordered on excessive, perhaps because people had already sensed I was no ordinary individual, most regarded me with curiosity rather than displeasure.
“When will production begin?”
“We’ll finalize the core staff today among those who’ve committed to participate, hold a meeting tonight to determine our direction, and begin in earnest tomorrow morning.”
“What about the cast?”
“We’ll recruit additional staff and actors starting tomorrow. If you know any talented performers, please recommend them. Everything except the role of Maximilien, which I’ll be taking, remains uncast.”
It was at that moment.
“So you’re accepting applications now?”
I lifted my head toward the voice and saw a figure in the back casually raising his hand just as before. It was Giovani. While others exchanged bewildered glances, Joshua asked.
“Are you interested in participating?”
“I believe I am.”
Those who had been whispering among themselves turned around in unison. Meeting their gazes, Giovani waved both hands in a gesture of modesty.
“There’s no need for such concern. I can read your intentions from your expressions alone, but despite your warnings, I’ve decided to take a hand in this myself. My mind is made up.”
As he finished speaking, Giovani chuckled to himself just as Joshua had. A few people turned toward Joshua and spoke.
“Working with that man won’t be simple.”
“Well, we can’t stop you, but he’s not someone a young person like yourself can easily manage.”
Before Joshua could respond, Giovani shrugged his shoulders with an arrogant attitude and let out a short laugh.
“Advice comes pouring in, yet they won’t participate themselves. Do as you please. I admit I’m a difficult person. Arrogant, too. If something doesn’t suit me, I won’t cooperate easily. But once I’ve set my mind to something, I’ll drive people relentlessly until it’s done properly, and if they still won’t comply, I’ll beat them into submission to make it work. The choice is yours—work with me or don’t.”
Joshua answered immediately.
“Of course we’ll work together. I appreciate people who excel.”
Then he looked around at the others again.
“What about the rest of you?”
While people still hesitated, Strauss spoke up.
“I have someone I’d like to recommend, though I’m uncertain whether I should mention someone not present here. After all, not extending an invitation suggests a lack of particular interest.”
Joshua shook his head.
“It doesn’t matter. I didn’t create the invitation list. Please recommend whoever you wish.”
“Then… I’d like to recommend a man named Bin Olfranje.”
People looked startled, but given the recommendation came from a master, they didn’t dare object outright and whispered among themselves. Joshua, however, paid no mind to their murmurs and asked.
“What’s his field?”
“Direction.”
An expression of disbelief spread across everyone’s faces. Several people muttered audibly.
“This will ruin another project.”
“Really, what can one even say.”
It was then that Will Maycock spoke.
“Direction is my field as well. But if you’re entrusting it to Olfranje, I have no intention of interfering or taking the role myself.”
Maycock’s statement, which hinted at his own intention to take on direction, startled everyone greatly. Mrs. Molte jumped up and spoke.
“What are you saying! If Mr. Maycock were to take the position, who would dare step forward?”
Maycock smiled faintly.
“I appreciate your words, madam, but my friend here is young, and Bin Olfranje is young as well. I find myself thinking that perhaps this production would be better suited to young people working together.”
“No, but even so, comparing you to anyone else….”
At that moment, Strauss opened his mouth.
“I share Maycock’s view. Bin Olfranje is not the contemptible person you all imagine him to be…. And surely you all understand why seniors yield their positions in such circumstances? Furthermore, if no younger person steps forward for orchestral conducting and musical direction, I would like to volunteer myself.”
As Strauss finished speaking with a humble smile, the commotion grew even greater. Someone asked in surprise.
“Sir, Maestro Strauss, the reason a master of your caliber would participate in such an uncertain project….”
“You’re curious?”
Strauss reached out and touched the violin case. The case was worn from the long years they had spent together, yet it remained sturdy.
“When you grow old like me, you naturally wish to see young people change the world. Even more so when it’s already too late to change it yourself.”
Mrs. Molte beside him smiled broadly, then suddenly raised her gloved hand high.
“Give me the role of Countess Constance!”
She had not set foot on stage since becoming Sui de Molte from Sui Anettier. There were countless fans waiting for her to make a comeback in any form, yet she had remained shut away in Molte Castle, leisurely spending time with aspiring actors. If she were to return to the stage now, it would surely be momentous news.
“And give some roles to the children I’m raising as well. Of course, you should test them first.”
“No objection.”
Joshua nodded and looked around at the people one final time.
“Is there anyone else?”
I could see Selma Rayslink whispering with Mrs. Molte, but the others still hesitated, gazing at Strauss and Mrs. Molte, or at Maycock. Joshua did not wait any longer and spoke.
“Then I must now speak with these important people who have expressed their willingness to participate, so I will adjourn this gathering. Anyone who wishes to participate in the production of The Wedding of Il de Morbiane after this time should negotiate the terms with the two Theater Masters and then contact me. However, I would advise you to hurry. The production will not be delayed simply because you do not offer your support.”
Joshua rose from his chair. As people began to stir and stand, he walked toward the piano, opened its lid, and casually pressed a few keys.
Ding, dong, ding.
A few people turned to look, but Joshua paid them no mind. He simply sat down at the piano and began to play as he pleased, indifferent to whether people left or remained standing.
At first it was slow, but soon it quickened and became cheerful. It was a strange performance—as if bidding farewell to the people, or telling those who would stay to stay, or as if none of it mattered at all. Some people looked on in bewilderment and simply left, while others stood awkwardly, exchanging glances with one another. Strauss, who had remained seated with his chin resting in his hand, listening to the performance, looked at them and spoke.
“That’s beautiful playing, isn’t it?”
Eventually most people shrugged their shoulders and left. Maycock listened to the piece for a while longer, then stood, bade farewell to Strauss, and departed. Mrs. Molte moved her seat closer to the piano.
The piano continued. As if he were holding a small concert for those who would work with him.
4. The Incomplete
Let us give a name to this incomplete creature.
A name fills existence
Let us bestow upon this creature
a name for what it lacks.
Then it will be filled with that
and become complete.
So from now on,
let us call him ‘Angel’.
There is another Joshua. He lives in a castle within a circular forest filled with thousands of trees. Everything is familiar, the staircases and gallery corridors remain in their places, unexpected accidents do not occur, the windows are closed, and there is nothing he must accomplish.
Many people live in the castle, yet he barely feels their presence. Like shadows. He thinks of the people from happier times, those who have now left him. He wishes to go and meet them. To the countryside, to the place where he spent his childhood, where there would surely be a friend, grass, and sheep. Fish too, and a windmill, and the strange drink the Monk gave him.
It is not such a distant place. Yet he cannot leave the castle, only think of it. Some inexplicable force repeatedly tells him to remain in the castle. He obeys, and obeys, and obeys again, while feeling that this obedience conflicts severely with his true nature.
On rainy days, he would sit before the piano and press each key from beginning to end, as if checking whether any were broken. He would think that surely there must be at least one silent key that produced no sound when pressed.
Contrary to his expectation, every key produced its proper sound.
Ding, dong, dang, dong….
Nothing was broken. Yet the feeling was unbearable. Why hadn’t anything broken? Among so many keys, it wouldn’t have been strange if even one had snapped. I wouldn’t have been surprised to find a missing tooth. But why were they all here, perfectly intact and uniform?
Nothing complete could exist in this world. An unbroken plate, a dish without a single crack….
The more I thought about it, the more unbearable it became. I pressed the keys again as if to verify, then repeated the motion. Pressing them again didn’t make any key suddenly fall silent. Normal. Perfect. Damned stable things.
As I pressed the keys once more, I suddenly brought my fist down hard on one of them. Multiple keys depressed simultaneously, producing a dull, heavy sound.
I struck again. I pounded until my fist ached, but the keys still sang. They remained exactly the same. Finally, I threw open the piano lid and found the string connected to that key, then severed it.
Ping….
The sound of the key’s breath being cut off seemed somehow sorrowful. It died so easily, like someone who couldn’t even leave a final word.
After a long silence, I reached out and pressed that key. There was only a faint tick, like something sliding, and now it produced no sound at all. Tick, tick-tick, tick.
Was that enough?
The severed string hung like a dead plant, its arm outstretched.
Soon I sat down before the piano again. Slowly, I placed both hands on the keys. I began to play. Starting slowly, gradually accelerating.
Of course, several times the tick sounded in place of the note I needed, but I didn’t care. I played alongside that sound, striking again and again. The rain intensified. Sweat fell onto the keys. The piece was beautiful.
At that same moment, somewhere far away, another was also playing that same piece.
Children of Rune – Winterer
Author: Jeon Min-hee
Publisher: 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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