Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 389

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

Even if you learn the truth, do not pretend to know it.
If everyone finds out, the world will collapse.
Children of Rune
Demonic
Episode 159.
In the Name of Loyalty and Vengeance (1)
Act 9. Indeed
1. The One Who Does Not Speak
Because you do not dream of me, I have chosen to dream of you.
My dreams are cold and monotonous, but they will suffice for you.
You will wander searching for me, yet see only the place where I once stood.
Because there is no rest in my dreams.
No comfort, no reward, no escape.
That is why I continue to dream that dream.
“It has grown dark already.”
When the Young Duke sitting across from me spoke, I deliberately turned to look at the window. In truth, I already knew it was dark without looking. Beyond the glass, I could see only branches faintly sketched by the light from within the room.
I straightened my posture and offered a mechanical smile.
“So it has. Then I shall take my leave.”
“How amusing.”
At his sudden remark, I began to rise but paused, raising my eyebrows.
“What do you find amusing?”
Rather than answer immediately, the Young Duke gazed at my face. For a long while. I understood that he was not truly looking at me, but lost in thought. His gaze merely lingered because we sat facing one another. Only thoughts of himself could hold his attention for so long.
“For instance… if one leg of this table were to break and I were to attach a new leg in its place, would this table not still be this table?”
Though I did not understand what he was driving at, I waited without pressing him. I offered no response either. The Young Duke continued.
“If one of my legs were to be severed and lost, would I not still be myself? And if I were to attach a wooden prosthetic in place of the lost leg, would I not still be myself?”
I made a slight nodding gesture.
“Then what is the wooden prosthetic?”
I tilted my head to one side.
“What do you mean?”
“Is the wooden prosthetic me? Is it my leg? Or is it merely an object I use, like the clothes I wear?”
“I cannot say. I do not know.”
It was a matter I had never contemplated before, so the admission came easily. The Young Duke shook his head.
“Do not say that. Think about it for me. If the prosthetic were part of me, there would be no need to think further. But if it is not, then what could it be?”
Unlike the Young Duke, when I fell into thought, I turned my gaze elsewhere.
“In my estimation, the prosthetic does not seem to be part of a person. Perhaps it is a tool, like clothing.”
The Young Duke immediately countered.
“Why is that?”
“Because the prosthetic cannot communicate with other parts of the body. Blood does not flow through it, it does not ache when wounded, and thus it does not heed the commands of the heart or mind… nor does it offer its own opinions. To use a household analogy, it is not a family member but merely a guest.”
My thoughts continued as I spoke, but by the time I finished, they had become coherent enough to satisfy. The Young Duke did not nod, yet neither did he show signs of disagreement. He simply said this:
“Then a guest should never offer opinions on household matters. If they continue to do so, what shall we do?”
Anistan didn’t grasp it immediately.
“It’s impossible for a prosthetic leg to transform into a human leg, even through magic.”
“A prosthetic is wood. Already dead. But what entered me isn’t like that at all.”
The Young Duke spread both arms wide, as if inviting me to look inside. Anistan didn’t respond. He couldn’t. He stared at the Young Duke while suppressing an eerie feeling.
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
The Young Duke’s voice rang out clearly, as if he knew nothing.
“You do.”
….
Anistan lowered his gaze. He couldn’t match the other’s eyes. It wasn’t just guilt. Many times he’d tried to remember that the other was merely a doll he’d created. Yet the eyes looking at him weren’t black glass beads embedded in a puppet.
“People sit in the Small Garden. It’s very comfortable. They all know each other well. Some sit on stone chairs, others kneel on the Grassland. They talk. Not equal, perhaps, but they generally respect each other’s opinions. When debates happen, there’s often a side that wins more frequently. But there’s never a side that always loses.”
The Young Duke waited for Anistan to meet his eyes before continuing.
“That’s what’s inside my head.”
How much better it would have been if his puppet had glass marble eyes and feathers for a body.
“Among them, some are weak-willed and want to believe in others’ goodwill. Meanwhile, others see through the truth with just simple clues and would offer the most efficient countermeasure. But they’re blocked by those lost in their own world, oblivious to others’ malice and not even caring. And there are those so overflowing with confidence, bordering on arrogance, that they push what they want—if they ally with such a person, even a carefully devised countermeasure becomes useless.”
The Young Duke smiled bitterly.
“Then a self-loathing figure, recognizing himself as sin, steps forward and silences everyone. They each become my form depending on the moment. They constantly exchange words, always ready to become my form according to the debate’s outcome. But then, a guest appeared.”
The Young Duke stared at the door as if someone had truly entered.
“At first, I didn’t notice he’d come in. He was so quiet. Everyone was absorbed in conversation, and only when it grew silent did I notice. He stood quietly to one side. He doesn’t move or speak. Even when spoken to, of course he doesn’t answer. At first, I thought he’d leave soon. But he didn’t.”
At this moment, the Young Duke’s expression seemed almost doll-like. A listless smile.
“He remains a guest who says nothing. But I didn’t invite him in. So how did he enter? One person inside me said he’s substituting for something. Like a prosthetic leg for someone who lost theirs, standing in the place of something that was in me and disappeared. Then did he come because someone vanished from my pantheon, and he took their place? If so, will he remain forever?”
As the question turned inward, his gaze lifted to the ceiling. But the Young Duke soon looked back at Anistan.
“Anistan, if what you say is true, he’ll never open his mouth, and if I forget his existence, that’s the end. But when someone gets a prosthetic leg, isn’t it with the thought that though it’s more inconvenient than a real leg, they’ll still walk? Then what is that ‘guest’ doing there? If his presence or absence makes no difference, why did he come? What disappeared from me that he stands there doing nothing?”
Anistan couldn’t answer quickly. A prosthetic’s role isn’t merely to hang where a leg once was. Even if blood doesn’t flow through it and it feels no pain, can we truly say there’s no communication at all? After all, doesn’t it still touch the ground instead of a leg?
“So… I feel like he’ll open his mouth at some point. If there were no role, he couldn’t have entered that place. And if his role is the same as those in my pantheon who exchange opinions and become my form at times, then one day that guest might become my very form and face you… couldn’t that be it?”
Shadows gradually covered the Young Duke’s face. It was fear.
“When his turn comes… when his opinion overwhelms the rest and he acts as my form… am I truly myself then? Am I speaking? Can I control him? Communication doesn’t work the way it always has? Can I, as I do with the members of my pantheon, at some point call him back to sit and have another rise? He doesn’t listen to me, or rather, can’t listen…”
Suddenly Anistan’s cheek twitched. He’d grasped what the Young Duke meant. With understanding came a chill through his entire body.
“And so he might seize me forever… never yielding that place again.”
The Young Duke knew. Though he should never remember. He’d noticed that something disappeared from him and something else entered instead. How could that be? A person can’t examine their mind like an orderly farm divided into plots. Yet the Young Duke, with a mental world as complex as his, had noticed. The foreign object that entered him, the unidentified string. He’d even grasped that it was scheming to dominate his mind… and expressed that existence metaphorically yet distinctly.
The existence of the ‘original body.’
Ah, could he truly be a doll?
Could a doll exist that realizes it is a doll?
Had his creation been so perfect that it even grasped this? Or did the fact of grasping it prove it wasn’t a perfect doll?
Either way, the other was a doll yet superior to anyone in the world, even surpassing his creator. Even if it was due to the excellence of the replicated original, Anistan couldn’t help but be terrified at having created a doll that transcended even its master.
He likely hadn’t yet realized he was a being created at the fingertips of some human. In truth, humans don’t remember the moment of creation. But seeking something beyond merely living daily life, understanding why one’s existence was made—that’s the trait of ‘humans,’ not dolls. So if such a thing happened, the creator would have made something beyond a doll.
If all humans could do as his doll does, they would find even the hand and will of the one who first made them. But humans cannot. Then, truly, the moment the Young Duke grasps his own creation and cause, he becomes something beyond human, and Anistan, who made such a doll, no—such a human… has he done the work of God?
“What I find amusing is…”
The Young Duke cupped both cheeks as if cold, yet his eyes shone.
“Even in this state, I have will. The determination to try somehow. The day he opens his mouth will surely come, but there’s no law saying I shouldn’t prepare in the meantime. Can he convince me? Just as I don’t know that answer, it’s not decided that I can’t convince him. Since he’s entered me, he’s either part of me or mine. Though his identity is unknown now, ultimately he must become something I handle, like a prosthetic. And discovering how he came to me, what of mine he’s substituting for—that too. So I have an adversary within me. Isn’t that rather amusing?”
Why was the Young Duke telling Anistan this? Did he suspect, even slightly, that Anistan was the one who created him and also created this adversary? Or did he have a premonition?
I could not know. His puppet was demonic in nature.
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.

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————