Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 392

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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 162.
In the Name of Loyalty and Vengeance (4)
Was I still half-asleep? I spoke in my dream, and Joshua in reality could not hear me—or was that not it? Or was I experiencing sleep paralysis? Or perhaps… had I died and become a Spirit, one of those Spirits unaware of their own death? That last thought seemed to have arisen because of Kelsniti, but…
Joshua, who had been keeping his head lowered, appeared to be saying something. At first, it sounded only like mumbling. Only after a moment did a few words emerge that I could understand.
“…I understand your proposal well enough. But I don’t trust you.”
I couldn’t grasp what he meant. Having just awakened from unconsciousness and with my mind still fevered, my thoughts weren’t moving quickly.
“Let me be clear: I don’t trust you.”
Only then did I realize Joshua was conversing with someone I couldn’t see. Riche felt a sudden chill of fear, but tried to reassure herself by thinking of Kelsniti. Yet that effort soon proved futile.
“I’ll hear Kelce’s opinion first. If you deceive him… well, the outcome probably won’t be pleasant, would it?”
It wasn’t Kelsniti. And it was “you all”—plural. There was more than one?
Riche found herself squeezing her eyes shut. But closing them made her feel as though something invisible was touching her entire body, which she found unbearable. She couldn’t even bolt upright and flee. Unable to endure it, Riche opened her eyes to narrow slits. She lacked the courage to open them wide.
I saw Joshua slowly raising his head. As his hand lowered, his face became visible. Joshua’s gaze piercing through empty air was an expression I had never witnessed before. All the versions of Joshua I had seen until now—the arrogant actor who commanded people, the courteous friend who was neither a genius nor a nobleman in manner, the man driven mad enough to shatter himself—none of them matched this. Joshua was… cold.
A coldness that cared nothing for how others perceived him or whether their feelings were hurt, thinking only of efficient solutions. I knew Joshua was a genius, but I had never thought of him as a strategist. I had always believed it was Maximian who excelled at planning and strategy. But not at this moment.
“I deal with you all on the most minimal terms. When I trust you, that means only that you trust me. The initiative lies with me. I also know you cannot consume me. When beings like you consume a person, your intense consciousness scatters their mind, doesn’t it? But here’s the thing—I can speak with all of you simultaneously while also losing myself in thought.”
“I think I understand why you couldn’t torment Icabon von Arnim. Icabon… he was utterly unmoved by the likes of you until death. Look at the proof: they say a person becomes a Spirit when they have unfulfilled desires left in the world. Yet Icabon never became a Spirit. He departed in peace. He vanished without caring whether you made noise or not.”
“Kelce said that Demonic before me must have also encountered Spirits. Those Spirits probably weren’t you. He also suggested that perhaps those Demonic went mad because of Spirits. Well, I don’t think they went mad because of Spirits. Look at me—I was already mad before you appeared. It has nothing to do with the likes of you. A Demonic goes mad because of themselves. It’s not a world where anyone else can interfere.”
At this moment, Joshua’s voice was so resolute that even Riche found it difficult to doubt his words. Why was Joshua so certain? Did Joshua understand Spirits better than Kelsniti? Kelsniti had seen countless Spirits, and was himself a Spirit.
Yet Kelsniti was not a Demonic. Joshua was the Demonic. This was a genius incomparable to anyone in the world speaking about none other than himself.
“…Yes, now go. The next time I summon you, Kelce will be with me.”
In an instant, the air in the room became noticeably lighter. Even Riche, who couldn’t move, felt considerably more at ease. Something she hadn’t noticed seemed to have been pressing down all this time.
Joshua turned his gaze toward Riche, who lay in bed. Then his eyes widened.
“Riche?”
Joshua was startled by the fact that Riche had awakened, but Riche felt flustered, as though she had eavesdropped on Joshua’s conversation—though it was certainly unintentional.
Yet Joshua seemed not to care about such things. Overjoyed, he nearly embraced her before remembering her injured arm, and instead grasped her hand after pulling back the blanket. Her hand was damp with sweat, salty to the touch, but Joshua was so delighted he didn’t know what to do with himself. Only Riche, unaware that her hand had been ice-cold until last night, still wore an awkward expression.
“Ah, I’m so relieved. Truly…”
Riche wanted to speak. She wanted to ask what had happened, or to say thank you, or to apologize. Yet she couldn’t utter a single word. It wasn’t a dream, nor had she become a Spirit.
Joshua soon noticed.
“What’s wrong? Riche? You… can’t speak?”
3. The Lost Voice
There is but one tale in this world of a girl saving a vanished boy,
and the girl who brought the boy back sighed and said, “Now let’s play with dolls again.”
Without need for discussion, the group naturally took over the Straw Hat Pharmacist’s House. They thought: the roof remains, there’s a table, and there are blankets to spread out—what more could one ask for?
The moment they decided to sleep here for at least one night, they all displayed a careful restraint, even removing their shoes outside. Yet when evening fell and the air grew cold, their lack of restraint became evident when they had to rehang the door they had carelessly torn off.
Maximian spread out every blanket he could find across the living room floor like a carpet. Thanks to this, they could roll about while talking. Maximian insisted, based on his miscellaneous knowledge, that he had arranged it “Sansruria style,” but no one knew if Sansruria actually did things that way. Therefore, no one cared what it was called.
Thus began a four-person conference, reclining at an angle in “Sansruria style.” Though four participated, only three spoke.
“I simply cannot… understand how someone breaks their arm and becomes mute.”
Maximian shook his head and looked at Riche with suspicious eyes. It was strange not to hear Riche’s voice answering back immediately. Riche, now conscious, lay in the pharmacist’s bed with the curtain half-drawn, listening to the conversation. She wasn’t well enough to sit up, but her mind was relatively clear.
“Riche wouldn’t understand it either.”
Joshua wore a serious expression—in other words, one of responsibility. Milestone, looking between the two of them, added his words.
“Shock can cause all sorts of things to happen. We’re not doctors—how would we know?”
“Tsk, so you’re saying we should accept that shock could have turned her into a Cat?”
For a moment, Joshua thought that if Riche’s body hadn’t been aching, she would have kicked Maximian’s leg right then. When Joshua looked up, Maximian wore the same expression—he’d been thinking the identical thing. A moment later, Maximian clicked his tongue with a “tsk” and cast his eyes downward.
“So what’s your theory, Maximian? Do you have a better deduction?”
Milestone hadn’t asked the question with any particular expectation, but upon hearing the word “deduction,” Maximian seemed to feel obligated to conjure up something plausible.
“Then let’s work through this systematically. First, Riche—was it like this from the moment you woke up? Or were you fine at first and then it happened suddenly?”
Riche, of course, didn’t respond. It was a question she couldn’t answer with a nod or a shake of her head. Maximian realized this immediately and tapped his own forehead.
“I can’t ask it that way and expect an answer. Let me rephrase: You couldn’t speak from the moment you woke up?”
“….”
Still no response. Maximian blinked, studying Riche, and when their eyes met, she wore an exasperated expression.
Joshua spoke up.
“There are questions that can’t be answered with just ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ There are also things like ‘maybe’ or ‘I’m not sure.'”
“Really making us use our imagination here.”
Maximian grumbled, though not because he failed to grasp the gravity of the situation.
“Paper and a pen would make this easier.”
Even without Milestone saying so, they’d already turned the entire house upside down searching. Of course, both had been found, but the ink had dried rock-hard and was unusable. The house’s owner, the Straw Hat Pharmacist, had apparently left the inkwell open.
“Should we look for some at another house?”
Milestone headed outside. Maximian sighed, scratching his head, then looked at Joshua.
“Alright, let’s put you to use.”
Joshua looked bewildered.
“Me?”
“Give me your hand.”
Maximian pulled Joshua’s hand and placed it in Riche’s grip.
“Write on her palm. Start with clear, distinct letters. But soon enough, she’ll start understanding instantly, so it’ll get easier.”
There was no other way. They established that a single underline would represent a space, then Joshua began writing letters on his left palm. Immediately, Joshua started giggling.
“It tickles!”
“Just bear with it?”
Since Riche was writing with her left hand, she struggled with stroke control and pressure. She even wrote several characters backward. Joshua squinted, gritted his teeth, and endured until he finally grew accustomed to it—just as Riche managed to finish an entire sentence. Joshua stared into empty space, organizing the message in his mind, then spoke it aloud.
“Did you pile on all those blankets trying to steam me to death?”
Maximian was utterly flabbergasted, then immediately shouted.
“Who told you to bring that up now!”
Riche immediately wrote again on Joshua’s palm. Joshua spoke.
“Why should I obsess over the same topic you all are?”
“So you don’t care what happens to this situation? Don’t you realize everyone’s been worried sick about you?”
With communication already sluggish, an argument like this would only make proper conversation impossible. After a moment, Joshua understood the sentence Riche had just written and his face went pale as he fought back laughter.
“Riche says that we must have piled on so many blankets that you caught a fever and lost your voice.”
Maximian glanced at Riche’s face and saw she wasn’t joking. He furrowed his brow and wrinkled his nose, as if trying to consider this with utmost seriousness.
“Hmm, so you’re saying the credibility of catching a fever and becoming mute is… well, let’s accept that. And if a fever gets too hot, you catch it… okay, moving past that too, and that heat could come from piling on too many blankets…”
To anyone listening, it was an enormous logical leap with no real merit in deeper consideration. Yet Maximian suddenly dropped his hand from his brow and spoke.
“Yeah, that could be possible.”
“That could be possible?”
Maximian nodded and shook his head alternately as he half-listened to Joshua’s question, as if engaged in silent deliberation with himself. Riche seemed to have something more to say, but Joshua shook his head and gave her a look that urged patience.
Maximian opened his mouth.
“About the fever….”
Joshua withdrew his hand and gently pressed it against Riche’s forehead.
“There’s no fever at all.”
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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