Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 376

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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 146.
May Your Final Performance
Be Your Greatest (21)
Joshua wore a relaxed white shirt and black trousers with suspenders—not the elaborate costume he’d worn at the end of the performance—and he looked like an entirely different person from the young Count who had graced the stage moments before. As if to say that the person they had been so passionate about existed only until the curtain fell, and that I standing here was someone altogether different.
Even within arm’s reach, people did not touch Joshua. They only gazed. The closer they looked, the more mysteriously elegant the young man appeared—his slightly flushed cheeks, his sleek neck, the delicate beauty of his closed eyelids.
Though my eyes were shut, my fingers did not falter as they pressed the keys. As if no one else existed, I tilted my chin slightly upward and began to sing.
The lights fade away
I rise from my seat
And search for where you were
But there is no one
Only an empty chair remains
Did you leave? Did you hear my performance?
I cannot know
Yet I bow deeply
With utmost respect, as if you were there
That is all I can offer
Now I withdraw
Descending behind the stage
I disappear, just as you have
All that remains for me
Is what I gave to you—
My heart alone, everything I could offer
Contained within this song
The song ceased, and then the piano fell silent. Joshua opened his eyes and rose from his seat, turning to face the crowd. Even seeing the people packed tightly before him, he showed no sign of surprise. He simply extended his arms naturally and bowed—very slowly.
“….”
Until Joshua lifted his head, the people had forgotten even to applaud. Then, as he politely opened his hands in acknowledgment, they instinctively parted to let him through. Not a single person touched even the hem of his garment as he left the space and disappeared behind the stage.
Soon after, as they looked at one another’s faces, they shook their heads like people waking from a dream and managed only to laugh.
“I feel… strange.”
“I couldn’t even clap once. Truly, I forgot.”
“It feels like we’ve been bewitched.”
“When the performance ended, I thought nothing could move me more deeply, yet how did he overwhelm us so completely with just a simple song?”
“I even felt a touch of fear. Can a person truly be like that?”
“He doesn’t seem human, does he?”
As they murmured among themselves, they noticed something being distributed near the entrance and found themselves naturally drawn in that direction. Then they filed out like a receding tide. Etern had smoothly guided their departure according to the instructions Joshua had written. In their hands was a pamphlet announcing the final performance to be held the following day, and it repeatedly emphasized the crucial information that this time they would have to pay for their tickets rather than attend for free.
While the theater was catching its breath, for some people, real work was just beginning. In the handful of inns—perhaps four or five in total—located behind Theater Street, each with only a dozen or so rooms, the highest prices in the history of those establishments were being negotiated. Servants continued to come and go, and though several people huddled together in a corner of the ground floor hall in repeated discussion, no easy conclusion was reached.
The reason for their deliberation was not that room prices had skyrocketed twenty times over. Even the finest room in an inn was scarcely better than a modest chamber in a manor. So the original price was merely pocket change, and even multiplied twenty times, it posed no burden. The problem was that despite this, everyone who had gathered wanted that particular room.
Yet those they had to negotiate with were not the innkeepers. Before them stood a young boy who had come from very far away and appeared exhausted, though in truth he smiled with quiet confidence. He had reserved the room in question several days prior. His master had paid in advance long ago to attend two consecutive performances of “The Wedding of Il de Morbiane.” The finest and most expensive room in the inn, no less.
The next day’s performance was at two in the afternoon, not in the evening. Tickets were scheduled to go on sale from ten in the morning, accounting for the anticipated crowds. But those audience members determined to see the next performance had witnessed the enthusiastic reaction of the people just now, and they were certain they would have to arrive early in the morning to secure their tickets.
It was already night. For the nobility whose estates lay far away, there was no time to return home, rest comfortably, and come back. Finding a room to rest here was the best option. They also needed a place to stay throughout the morning until the performance began.
But there were no other rooms available. No matter how urgent the need, a nobleman could not rent the sort of room where dock laborers lodged. As the Count’s secretary, the lady’s chamberlain, someone’s steward, and various servants engaged in a battle of wits, the price climbed higher and higher. Twenty-four times, twenty-seven times, thirty times, thirty-one times, thirty-two times… Finally, when the others rose with a gesture of surrender, saying they would rather sleep in their carriages, the price had reached thirty-four times the original. It was truly a night when the entire city danced.
“It’ll take at least three hours just to get home. If we head back to Jineman Manor through the night without even stepping out, we’ll arrive just in time to buy morning tickets. So those of us returning really will be sleeping in the carriage.”
The young noblewoman who had wagered thirty-four times her stake struck a haughty pose as she gazed down at the gold and silver coins the head maid was counting, casting a sidelong glance at the Young Boy standing beside her. She seemed reluctant to part with the money, but ultimately had no choice.
“Here, take it and disappear.”
The Young Boy, accepting a heavy pouch of coins, turned and shrugged his shoulders, offering a parting remark instead of a proper bow.
“Enjoy the performance.”
The Young Boy exited the Inn and glanced around before heading toward another Inn at the corner of the street across the way. Beneath the lamp hanging under its sign, he spotted the young girl waiting for him. Maximian and Riche exchanged a palm strike hidden between their collars, away from prying eyes.
“Thirty-four times.”
“Twenty-six times. Everyone’s lost their minds.”
Maximian nodded in agreement.
“While everyone’s going mad, we need to secure our share. This venture required substantial capital. Think about those guide pamphlets we distributed at the entrance. I didn’t create them, but they were an additional expense to keep people engaged, weren’t they? So we need to recoup costs somehow. Do you know how much it costs to produce those things? Staggeringly expensive.”
“But did you really have such confidence this would happen?”
Maximian lifted his chin with a self-satisfied air.
“I’m the one who instructed Jo to hold a matinee performance tomorrow and start selling tickets from morning.”
Riche laughed in disbelief.
“You changed the performance time just to inflate the Inn fees?”
“That’s not the only reason. As you know, we have to disappear the moment tomorrow’s performance ends. If we performed late as usual, it would be midnight, and how could we launch the ship then? A matinee means we finish while there’s still daylight to escape.”
“If we stayed a bit longer tomorrow, there would be plenty of ways to make the nobility spend more money.”
“We can’t. If we start that, we won’t be able to leave even after ten days. The nobility will each insist on inviting us to their homes, Etern will keep pestering us for one more performance, and if we get caught up in that, we’ll lose track of when we can depart. We’ve already delayed this much—it’s dangerous enough as it is.”
Riche released a small sigh.
“True enough. After tomorrow, it’s finished. I’m grateful nothing’s happened so far.”
Maximian spoke.
“We don’t yet know whether nothing has happened.”
Behind the performance hall of the Diamond Rush Theater, befitting a large venue, stood a ballroom. Unlike theaters in major cities that held dances nightly, it was used to draw in guests excited by performances, allowing them to dance, eat, and drink through the night. Occasionally, it hosted galas organized by notable figures to draw crowds. Of course, recently it had been serving as a makeshift dining hall.
That evening, a modest celebration was held there.
It was closer to an afternoon reception than a party, and there was no dancing, but the faces of those gathered at three tables arranged in one corner of the ballroom all shone brightly. Assembled to celebrate that day’s success, everyone was overjoyed and hardly knew what to do with themselves.
Etern, raising his glass high, led the toast.
“A toast to The Wedding of Il de Morbiane!”
“Cheers!”
“Cheers!”
Giovani, lifting his glass belatedly, chuckled and cried out.
“Since it’s for Morbiane Island, we should do it Orlanne style. Bravo!”
Glasses filled to the brim and barely a drop at the bottom were drained in various ways, most emptied in a single gulp. Joshua had tried to decline the drink, but Mrs. Molte insisted on pouring for him, and he found himself drinking half a glass of champagne. Watching from beside him, his face flushed immediately, then turned pale shortly after. Mrs. Molte laughed.
“See? It’s fine, isn’t it? Want another glass?”
“Oh, no.”
“Come now, don’t be shy.”
Joshua waved his hand and smiled faintly.
“I’ll drink after tomorrow’s performance ends.”
Mrs. Molte, taken in by his brazen lie, soon offered drinks to someone else. Giovani, sitting across the way and observing this, remarked.
“Alcohol is something that becomes poison for some people when consumed.”
“Thank you for understanding….”
“But champagne hardly counts as proper spirits. Come now, one more glass!”
Just then, a burst of laughter erupted from one corner of the room. Strauss had plucked a melody on his violin—the very ending theme from the performance we’d just witnessed—with the tip of his finger. Everyone was delighted by the wit of the usually dignified old master. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, the pianist Morris turned to Joshua with a question.
“By the way, Hispanie, how is it that you can sing like that and play the piano so brilliantly at the same time? I’ve been playing piano my entire life, and I wouldn’t dare boast that I play better than you do. I’ve never met anyone quite like you.”
“And that’s not all—he composes music, writes scripts, pens lyrics, and even paints, they say?”
Since everyone already knew these facts, they merely laughed without expressing particular amazement at Selma’s words. Then Strauss tapped his violin and spoke.
“Then perhaps you can play this as well?”
Joshua, his face flushed again from reluctantly drinking the champagne Giovani had poured for him, merely smiled. At this, the others pressed him further.
“Show us what you can do!”
“Surely someone like you would produce an extraordinary sound?”
“What else? If it’s an instrument you can touch, I want to see you try everything.”
Everyone’s spirits had risen somewhat with drink, and though their requests sounded like jests, they were quite persistent. Finally, Joshua raised both hands and shook his head.
“No, no. The violin is out of the question. I’m not capable of doing everything, you see….”
I was trying to brush it off with a modest lie when Giovani suddenly stood up.
“I’ve just thought of an instrument you’ve probably never touched.”
Children of Rune – Winterer
Author: Jeon Min-hee
Published by: 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, you must obtain written consent from both parties.

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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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