Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 391

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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 161.
In the Name of Loyalty and Vengeance (3)
Everyone agreed with Maximian’s assessment.
Without a doctor, there was no reason to remain on this island. But where else could we go? There were a few other inhabited islands nearby, but given the state of Cardril Island—the largest among them—the others would surely be no better.
Yet starting a lengthy voyage that might take days in this situation was equally untenable. Riche had endured this long only because we’d been fortunate enough to encounter calm seas.
Milestone emerged from his thoughts and spoke.
“It might not have been such a massive tidal wave. This island is so shallow that even a slight rise in sea level would flood it entirely.”
Joshua tilted his head quizzically.
“Then these tidal waves aren’t a recent occurrence. Could it be that on this island, tidal waves are simply an accepted part of daily life, and that’s why everyone flees—is that also just routine?”
“Listen, inland dweller. If tidal waves struck this frequently, how would anyone survive in a harbor or on an island?”
Maximian, ever the pragmatist, shook his head firmly and reached a conclusion.
“The tidal wave is what it is. As long as it doesn’t return, who cares? Let’s head up to the village and search for a house that might have belonged to a doctor or someone like that. There might be something left behind, after all.”
Maximian’s suggestion was the best course available in our circumstances, yet doing one’s best didn’t guarantee favorable results.
After confirming that Riche’s breathing had stabilized, the three of us departed from the ship, planning to return within an hour. We looked like bandits, each shouldering a shovel, an axe, or a pickaxe.
We first sought out houses with locked doors and forced them open by any means necessary. Doors that wouldn’t yield even after repeated ramming had their hinges removed, or we simply broke them halfway through to enter.
The slope path near the coast was swept clean, as if it had been scrubbed. But as we climbed higher toward the hilltop, conditions deteriorated. We’d heard there was a tower built from household goods at the summit, and the further we ascended, the more the streets were coated with a well-kneaded mixture of soil and debris. Some houses were half-buried in this sludge, and we eventually gave up trying to enter them.
The sun beat down mercilessly, and the streets were silent. Apart from our footsteps, only insects buzzed. The sky was brilliantly clear. Desolate as it was, the abandoned and ruined town possessed an oddly peaceful quality.
“It’s hot.”
After forcing open the door of what must have been the dozenth locked house, I collapsed onto the relatively intact floor. Had the owner returned to find this state, they would have been furious, but we’d all already accepted that such a reunion would never occur—so I sat there with muddy feet without hesitation. Maximian removed his mud-caked shoes and tossed them aside carelessly. Joshua, despite his exhaustion, at least had the conscience to push a relatively clean carpet to one side.
“It’s summer.”
Maximian rose and attempted to open a window, but something was stuck—it wouldn’t budge. After shaking it forcefully several times, the hinges separated and one of the shutters fell away. I heard the window crash behind me but didn’t bother turning around, simply stretching. It was truly a leisurely breaking and entering, complete with property damage.
Since both door and windows had been sealed, the air inside was stuffy, but once we’d forced everything open, a breeze gradually circulated and it grew cooler. The polished wooden floorboards, worn smooth and glossy, felt pleasantly cool to sit upon. A straw hat hanging on the white wall swayed in the wind drifting through the window. Maximian, seeing it, muttered that wearing something like that might help.
“Then wear it.”
When Milestone spoke as casually as if it were his own home, Maximian took down the hat and tried it on. Joshua suppressed his laughter but told him it suited him well.
“You wear it.”
Maximian removed the hat and pulled it down firmly over Joshua’s head. Watching Joshua push the brim up from his eyes, Maximian couldn’t help but laugh.
“You look like a country bumpkin gray mouse.”
“You looked like a customs officer demoted to the countryside.”
Both of us burst into laughter almost simultaneously. But Maximian quickly sobered and spoke.
“We shouldn’t be laughing and playing around right now.”
“Look over there. This house seems promising.”
Following Milestone’s gesture toward the cupboard, I saw dozens of mysterious bottles arranged in neat rows on the shelves. Some appeared to contain plum preserves, dried bay leaves, or tomato puree, but the contents of the others remained a mystery. I opened a few and examined them, but they remained unidentifiable.
“Medicine?”
“Poison, maybe.”
Joshua tilted his head thoughtfully before speaking.
“If someone in a small village like this kept bottles of poison displayed so openly, wouldn’t they be the perfect candidate for exile?”
“That doesn’t guarantee they’re medicines. For all we know, they could be some local delicacy we’ve never heard of—pickled excrement or something equally vile.”
“Should we try tasting one?”
“Are you insane?”
Milestone fumbled with the bottles on the topmost shelf and discovered one with a label attached. But the script was illegible. Joshua took it and examined it, only to find he couldn’t read it either.
Joshua made an excuse with an awkward expression.
“It’s been a long time since the Continent adopted a common tongue, but in remote regions like this, they might still use the old dialect.”
“Make an educated guess. All we need to know is whether it says something like ‘a sure cure for treating broken bones’ or not. Yes or no—the odds are even.”
“If it says that, are you going to feed it to Riche?”
At Joshua’s question, Maximian hesitated for a moment before answering.
“No.”
It was a logical conclusion. The three of us investigated the cabinet further, but without the owner’s return, we couldn’t be certain of anything, so we eventually gave up and turned to leave. But just before putting on our shoes to go, Milestone discovered something.
“That looks like a journal of some kind.”
Maximian picked it up and opened it. To our surprise, the journal was filled with legible writing. It was a notebook recording which experiments had succeeded, which had failed, and why.
Maximian flipped through it quickly and checked the final page first. The last entry was dated February 15th of this year.
Joshua peered over at the notebook and spoke.
“So the tidal wave hit this place around that time?”
Maximian shrugged.
“It’s possible the owner simply grew lazy and stopped conducting experiments after that.”
But Maximian wasn’t merely speculating. In one corner of the room stood a bed concealed by curtains. Maximian drew back the curtain and examined the bedding. The blankets were quite thick—hardly the sort one would use in this heat.
Joshua was also flipping back through the journal. After examining some dozens of pages, he spoke.
“From what the journal shows, this person conducted experiments without rest. Could they be an apothecary or an alchemist? In any case, judging by the daily progress notes, it doesn’t seem like they would have simply stopped abruptly one day.”
Milestone spoke.
“Then it does seem likely that a tidal wave or something of the sort struck around that time. At least they must have received some warning of it. But here’s the thing—Kalayso, where we departed from, is only a day and a half’s journey from here. I was in Kalayso back in February. Yet I never heard of a tidal wave devastating this island so thoroughly. Not just me, but no one in Kalayso knew of it. That’s difficult to accept.”
While Joshua stood lost in thought, tilting his head, Maximian methodically opened each drawer of the wardrobe and even searched through baskets stored beneath the bed. After a moment, he spoke.
“This person didn’t have time to gather their valuables and leave. The only other possibility is that they left the island briefly on other business before the tidal wave struck. There’s money under the bed, and they’ve carefully stored several medicine bottles—things they apparently considered precious.”
The three of us left the house. The more we examined it, the more our suspicions multiplied. The sun had begun its climb toward noon, and the three of us—who had spent the night awake with sailing and nursing duties—felt fatigue and drowsiness creeping in. Moreover, we couldn’t leave Riche alone for too long. We decided to return to the ship to check on her condition and discuss our next steps. But by the time we descended the hill, the most pressing question had become who would get to sleep first.
A relentless summer dwelt in both mind and body. Riche didn’t know how long it had lasted, but by sensation alone, it felt as though an entire season had passed.
So the moment I opened my eyes, before I could even comprehend what surrounded me, I twisted my body to escape. Immediately, a searing pain flooded through me. Every part of my body ached so intensely I couldn’t distinguish one injury from another.
After a long while, I regained some clarity, though my vision remained blurred and my mind foggy. Still, I understood that this unbearable heat came from the blankets wrapped thickly around me. Before I could even wonder why they’d done this, anger surged through me. In the height of summer, would anyone wrap someone up like this unless they meant to cook them alive?
But there was no one to call for help. I lacked the strength to move even my fingertips, yet the torment of heat was worse than the pain. I gritted my teeth against the ache and struggled to free myself. But the blankets were wound so tightly that I couldn’t even push aside a single layer before becoming drenched in sweat. The narrow room with its tightly shut door was suffocatingly hot, and my entire body, already slick with dried sweat, felt sticky and repulsive. After struggling for some ten minutes in such a state, I couldn’t imagine a more dreadful situation existing in the world.
In truth, until last night I had been at death’s door, and had the men absent from this place known I’d regained consciousness, they might have danced and cheered.
Eventually I gave up trying to escape the blankets and instead attempted to hypnotize myself into believing I wasn’t hot. I told myself I’d just come from a bitterly cold place and had only just entered these warm blankets. Concentrating on this task with almost no chance of success, my eyes closed, when I heard someone turn the door handle.
I could have opened my eyes immediately and asked them to remove the blankets, but with my heightened sensitivity, I detected the voice that followed. It was Joshua.
“Riche.”
He called my name, but Joshua didn’t seem to expect an answer.
“Still unable to respond, I see.”
I heard the sound of him approaching and sitting down. I tried to open my eyes, but found my eyelids strangely heavy, so I waited a moment. He must have come close, for I heard the rustle of his body touching the blankets.
“If only you could open your eyes… that would be something.”
By then I might have been able to open them, but I hesitated. No one wants to snap their eyes open the moment they hear such words.
I didn’t know where I was. Since I remembered being injured, I assumed this must be the Doctor’s house. But I’d never considered that a broken arm could be fatal, so I didn’t realize how grave my condition was. I simply thought I’d slept far too long.
When I heard nothing more, I opened my eyes to narrow slits. The first thing I saw was the most disheveled and tousled gray hair I’d ever witnessed. Joshua was leaning on his elbows on the bed, his head bowed, his face hidden behind both hands. In such a position, there was no risk of our eyes meeting.
“….”
There were no words, but I sensed something strange in the atmosphere. Joshua hadn’t come to wake me from my long sleep. Now I thought I should call out, and I tried to speak.
I couldn’t.
“….”
My lips moved, yet no sound emerged. Seeing Joshua refuse to lift his head, I realized the silence wasn’t merely in my own ears. Riche opened her mouth wide, attempting to speak my name once more—”Joshua.” Still, no sound came.
Children of Rune – Winterer
Author: Jeon Min-hee
Publisher: 14 Months Publishing
The copyright to this book belongs to the author and 14 Months Publishing.
To reuse all or part of this book’s contents, 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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