Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 381

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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 151.
May Your Final Performance
Be Your Greatest (26)
The moment I reached for the door to close it, Ines suddenly rushed forward and grabbed the handle, preventing me from leaving. Joshua’s eyes widened in surprise.
“What’s wrong? Did something go wrong?”
“No, no, it’s not that—there’s something I absolutely must ask you. Please, just listen to me for a moment.”
“What is it?”
We stood facing each other across the half-closed door. As I stopped and looked at her, her pulse raced wildly, almost unbearably. She had to speak. Seized by a single desperate thought, Ines spoke with urgency.
“What if you… didn’t go? What would happen?”
“Didn’t go?”
“If you didn’t take the stage tonight… what would happen?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t go on stage! Please, please!”
“Ines, why are you saying this?”
My brow furrowed with intensity. I pushed her gently and stepped back inside.
Ines could think of only one thing: Joshua must not be sacrificed. She couldn’t let this continue. Even if another person who didn’t wish to be hurt suffered instead, perhaps that would be better for them both in the end. A brief moment of pain was preferable to committing an irreversible sin. She knew her brother well—once he set his mind to something twisted, he pursued it with stubborn single-mindedness. She had watched him long enough to know. What guilt weighed on his mind, how terrible it truly was, she did not know. And because she didn’t know, she had to stop him.
“Run away. What does it matter if the performance is cancelled? What does it matter if people are disappointed? One performance was enough. You’ve already shown them something no one will ever forget. Please! Don’t take that stage! I don’t want to lose you!”
Joshua gripped my wrist. His hold was strong enough to hurt. The look in his eyes as he gazed down at me was resolute.
“What do you know? Tell me, Ines. What happens if I take that stage?”
The Castle Courtyard.
The children of House of Morbiane huddled together in one corner, whispering among themselves, when the youngest, Marianne, came running and shouted.
He’s coming out!
In an instant they scattered—some fiddling with toy bows, some pestering the servants, some pretending to chase chickens pecking at grain—when the door opened and Maximilien, the young Count of Morbihan, walked out.
Countless eyes fixed in the audience seating followed his every movement. They did not want to miss a single gesture—his walk, the raising of his hand, the fluttering of his fingers, the moment his lips parted to speak.
And among them, there were eyes that watched his entrance with a somewhat different appreciation.
Maximilien looked around and spoke.
Seeing you all so at leisure fills my heart with such joy that it threatens to melt away entirely.
Irene appeared from the left side of the stage and spoke.
Seeing that my brother remains unchanged brings me such delight that I can scarcely breathe. And what are your impressions of the Territory, Count?
Maximilien replied with a displeased expression.
It’s empty.
Irene spoke.
Empty? No cattle, no chickens, no sheep? No turnips, potatoes, or carrots? No straw, no bran, no manure heaps?
Maximilien spoke.
Nothing. Not a thing.
Irene spoke.
Then would it not befit a Count to rule with such mercy as to graciously provide us with something to eat?
Maximilien spoke.
Go catch a chicken from the Backyard and eat it.
He walked across the stage. All eyes bent to his will as he advanced. When he laughed, hearts stirred; when his gaze turned toward the audience seating, everyone held their breath. Yet none of them knew the reason why he looked toward them.
It wasn’t easy to notice in the dimness. The audience seating was far darker than the stage.
The story unfolds. His siblings poke their heads out and sing in chorus. “You need a partner!” The scene shifts again. Maximilien de Morbiane prepares a party to choose a marriage prospect. As replies arrive, he reads each one with a mocking laugh. When news comes that Countess Constance de Bandeville will attend, he hums mischievously. Now, the Countess without wings—farewell, and next contestant, please take your place.
He sings. While singing, he renders everyone incapable of thinking of anything else. He draws in each person without fail, making them unable to look away from him. Perhaps today that power had exceeded all bounds. Normally, he would have modulated his energy to distribute attention evenly among the other actors. But not today. He concentrated. On himself, on his role, on his lines, on his song. It was as though every movement radiated pure magic. Like a whirlwind, he consumed the hearts of the audience.
Demonic.
Today, he is demonic.
As if, knowing today might end before it passes, he ignites all the talent he possesses.
When Ines first appeared, the lighting suddenly illuminated the audience seating and then vanished. The people startled slightly, but thinking it a mistake, they didn’t murmur loudly. However, as this repeated at regular intervals, the audience began to whisper softly in confusion.
The lighting was handled by two Mages employed by the Theater Company. Their work was to assist indoor performances with magical light—brightening the stage or projecting colored circular lights in sequence—light without destructive force. They were already a commonplace hire at most theaters, and for Mages without great skill, it was a job with decent income. The script detailed the lighting placements precisely, and through countless rehearsals they synchronized timing and intervals, projecting various colors as needed.
Even as people glanced about uncertainly, the lighting movements continued, and the audience gradually came to accept it as a new directorial choice. In fact, the lighting movements were rhythmic. When the stage darkened, it flashed brilliantly for an instant; when the stage brightened, it lingered longer.
Maximilien de Morbiane was, according to the script, cynical but not a charismatic figure. Rather, he was prone to irritability and quick with absurd lines. Yet Joshua, even in such a role, shook people’s hearts back and forth, gripping them and releasing them and gripping them again, displaying movements that left them motionless and unable to tear their eyes away.
The countless words dwelling in your eyes,
I will erase that heart right now
I have no need for love, never did from the start.
I have no need for beauty, I possess no such thing.
To others it would seem laughable
Since it concerns another, it would surely seem absurd.
Laugh as you please
Laugh until you die
Don’t be disappointed if I don’t bat an eye.
I was not born to satisfy you.
Do you like my face? Do you wish to touch it?
Would you like to walk through the Garden with me? How about tea time?
Let me be clear—there is only one way
Let me be explicit—there is no other method.
Place gold coins in your hand
And snap your fingers.
But it will be quite expensive, nothing cheap.
But if you truly wish it, even the expensive is not beyond reach.
Abandon any thought of blinding me with sweet words.
Go elsewhere to learn of love’s vows.
You despise me, don’t you? You thought quite rightly.
I agree. I am utterly base.
Then simply leave
Disappear from here
There will come a day when you think you did well.
The pain in your heart now is nothing at all.
Are you angry? Disappointed? Do you wish to spit?
Against someone like me, it would only be waste.
It seems you have something to say, but I must decline.
I am past the age of hearing lectures from my mother.
I’m already too far gone in the mire to heed another’s counsel and walk the righteous path.
My nature has become irredeemable.
Come at me.
Slap my face with all your might.
Don’t worry—there are plenty of people in this world willing to indulge the childish games of love you desire.
But let me make one thing abundantly clear, right now.
If you wish to speak with me, you must pay.
If you wish to kiss me, the price is exorbitant indeed.
The Audience Seating was filled with people willing to pay any sum for such a privilege, and when the lights dimmed, sighs escaped from every corner. Act One had ended. The darkened Audience Seating was swept once more by the illumination. Someone’s eyes caught the light, glimmering brilliantly.
The curtain rises. The first scene belongs to Ines—or rather, Marie de Trois. Tormented by betrayal and guilt, she walks through the Garden on a moonless night, singing of her heart. The Garden uses the Castle Courtyard backdrop as is, but blue lighting is laid beneath it, and black panels cut into grass shapes are used to effectively obscure the light, creating the appearance of black grass shadows cast at her feet.
How I wish I had loved nothing at all.
Not that moonlight, not that black grass, not the sound of insects.
How I wish I had loved nothing at all.
Not your smile, not your voice, not the sight of your back.
How I wish I had been a princess eternally imprisoned in a Tower.
Had I been locked away where no one could find me,
I would never have met you, never have known myself,
never have believed my hideous form transformed into an angel.
Why do you abandon me in hell?
When it is revealed that Marie, who came to Morbihan posing as a servant of Countess Constance de Bandeville, is actually a princess of Trois sent to test whether the young Count is a decent person, Maximilien’s demeanor grows bitterly cold, believing himself to have been toyed with. “The Wedding of Il de Morbiane,” which began with a light and cheerful atmosphere, undergoes a dramatic reversal as the playful, witty banter between them freezes over, gripping the audience’s hearts with unease.
Countess Constance de Bandeville has already discovered that Morbihan’s silver mines are depleted, and she tells Marie there is no need to fixate on a young Count who behaves so rudely. But Marie does not listen.
Marie speaks.
Perhaps Maximilien has every right to be angry with me. From the beginning, I was curious whether the silver mines still existed, so I did not come forward boldly as a suitor, and it was I who schemed and made difficult requests of the lady.
Countess Constance de Bandeville speaks.
But you succeeded, didn’t you? Thanks to your work as a servant, you were able to draw those words about the depleted mines from that cunning young Count’s own lips. Your thinking was correct.
Marie speaks.
What good does it do me now?
Countess Constance de Bandeville speaks.
Then leave. Why waste your time in a place with nothing more to see?
Marie speaks.
I have lost his trust. The coldness in his eyes pierces my heart so deeply that I cannot sleep at night.
Countess Constance de Bandeville speaks.
You need not think that way. He was the one who first deceived us by subtly implying the silver mines existed, was he not? Does the Count of Morbihan have any right to blame us?
Children of Rune – Winterer
Author: Jeon Min-hee
Publisher: 14 Months Publishing
The rights to this book belong to the author and 14 Months Publishing.
To reuse all or part of this book’s contents, you must obtain written consent from both parties.
The copyright of 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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