Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 423

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

Episode 193.
The Face of an Angel and
the Blood Flowing Through a Demon’s Heart (2)
Joshua stood at the boundary between light and shadow, hesitating. A figure sat on the floor—the Old Woman Spirit. I had already noticed her when I entered. At first, I thought she was watching me. But as time passed, she remained utterly motionless. Aurelia’s voice came from behind me.
“Grandmother can’t hear well, and her eyesight is poor.”
Joshua touched the scarf wound around his neck once more.
“What about the rest of the family?”
“There is none.”
Beneath the staircase, a coffin painted black jutted out at an angle. It sat partially under the corner of the blanket where Grandmother was seated. Looking at it, the coffin seemed placed far too carelessly to be the resting place of someone we would mourn tonight. Moreover, it emitted the smell of fresh sawdust, as if it had just been ordered empty, making me doubt whether a corpse truly lay within. The coffin’s craftsmanship was refined, incongruous with the old house. Even just the carved decorations on the lid marked it as an expensive object.
As a guest, I could hardly ask why the coffin was being treated so casually. Yet something about this suggested the funeral would not be held immediately. It was also strange that in a house of this considerable size, not a single neighbor had come. Moving that heavy-looking coffin outside would require at least six strong men. Would the others arrive when dawn broke? If so, why had she brought me here at this hour?
“Will the funeral be in the morning?”
“It doesn’t matter when.”
“Then you’re thinking of holding it now?”
“If Grandmother wishes it.”
“But shouldn’t more people come?”
“It’s fine.”
Aurelia smoothed out the wrinkled blanket and sat upon it herself. Sitting on the bare floor without even a carpet seemed as natural to her as her everyday life. She drew up her knees and spread her skirt, then pulled Grandmother’s hand and held it. At that moment, Grandmother spoke.
“Child. We have a guest?”
“Yes.”
“Did you offer the guest a seat?”
“Yes.”
“Did you warm the liquor in the kitchen?”
“Yes.”
Despite answering dutifully, Aurelia offered Joshua nothing. There was no fire in the kitchen either.
When Grandmother spoke again, her tone was entirely different from how she addressed Aurelia—it was remarkably clear. One could hardly believe she was deaf.
“Guest. Thank you for finding us. I feared that in this deep ravine, no one would come, and the departed would leave this world without a final farewell from its people. Please place a silver coin in the mouth of the dead and drink a cup of liquor. And listen to the tale of this old woman who will soon follow her ancestors. They say a guest who comes on the night of watching the coffin lightens the burden of the departed and carries it all the way to the River of Afterlife. Now that you have come, the soles of the wooden clogs will not wear thin on that long journey to the distant river.”
Grandmother released Aurelia’s hand and extended her palm toward Joshua as if offering him something. But there was nothing before him, which made for an awkward moment. Joshua looked at Aurelia, but she turned her face away coldly and pretended not to notice.
In the end, Joshua could only say this.
“Thank you.”
And he closed his hand as if grasping a cup made of air, bringing it to his lips. After drinking, he spoke.
“It’s warm.”
As I spoke, I recalled what had been said about Grandmother being deaf, but I thought it mattered little. My movements were natural because of the acting skill ingrained in my body. I did not forget the gesture of setting down the cup. Then, remembering something, I searched my pockets. But as expected, there was not a single coin in them.
I looked at Grandmother, but fortunately she did not immediately demand a coin. Then my eyes met Aurelia’s, but she simply ignored me. After all, she had not offered liquor either, so we were even.
“I hope the departed’s final journey was peaceful.”
Aurelia replied.
“It probably was. She passed away in her sleep.”
She spoke as if recounting something trivial, so Joshua hesitated briefly before asking.
“Aurelia. You don’t seem very sad.”
“No. I am sad. I was sadder before.”
The answer was strange, but before Joshua could ask further, Grandmother spoke again.
“On a night of watching over the coffin, it is fitting to speak of the dead’s old tales. In days long past, when the Family Clan was held in high esteem and guarded the Island of Sunset, many said that the root of sin lay within the Clan, and thus children were born who would not grow. But such words were merely the idle talk of those ignorant of the truth. The people did not know our Origin, nor should they have known. What transpired within the Clan was kept secret by the thoughtful silence of Eilerose long ago, and through her discretion, the Island was preserved. Only the crimson Sea of Sunset and the Family Clan of the Sea knew this truth.”
Grandmother spoke as if recounting a tale known to all, her words lacking order. Yet the cadence in her voice made even such a narrative sound natural. Joshua found himself drawn to listen, though he might not understand the story at once. If songs were born from the sea of words that held sound, then Grandmother’s tale seemed to be gathering the words from which a song would emerge—winding the thread upon a spindle that would weave a single song.
“Ah, in those distant days, when the one with black eyes passed through the City Wall built by water, some called it a harbinger of calamity, while others said a new path would open. When Anarose of the long hair departed with him, there was no one left to guard the broken hand of the Mage buried deep within the Island, and Gain of the stone feet entered the tomb in his stead. Years passed, and only when Gain’s hair had turned white did Anarose return and reclaim her duty as the prophecy foretold. Though Gain emerged from the tomb, his strength had waned, and he breathed his last. Gain, who had endured a task beyond his strength for so long, was long remembered with respect. But Anarose, who entered the tomb, was remembered only as ‘the long-haired witch sleeping beneath the earth,’ and no one honored her memory. And when Eilerose’s daughter gave birth to a child who would not grow—in other words, an idiot—they said she had received the witch’s curse.”
“An idiot?”
Even knowing that Grandmother could not hear, Joshua could not help but ask. The claim that the child born an idiot was not Anarose’s granddaughter but Eilerose’s granddaughter differed from what Kelsniti had told him. When Grandmother did not answer, Joshua looked toward Aurelia, but it was still of no use. She kept her eyes downcast, staring only at the far end of the coffin.
“None knew that the ‘long-haired witch’ of whom they spoke guarded the Island from within the tomb, allowing them to live upon that land. As years passed, the Island gradually turned to stone, yet none knew this was a promised outcome. Eventually, those who abandoned the Island that could no longer embrace people and settled upon Blue Blossom Island likewise did not know what grace they had received. Each time a child they called ‘the witch’s curse’ was born, they were reminded of the witch’s deeds, and because the witch had departed with the Black-Eyed Duke, they believed the Island’s ruin had begun, and thus they despised the witch.”
The Black-Eyed Duke who had taken Anarose away was surely Icabon. Joshua also knew that Anarose later fell into discord with Icabon and returned to Sunset Island. Yet the phrase “the Mage’s broken hand” troubled him. Someone had to guard it, and because Anarose had done so, Sunset Island had remained safe for so long. If that were true, then the “Mage’s broken hand” that even a great Mage like Anarose Tikarum had to guard—was it not the very “instrument of evil” they said had been brought from Ganapoli? And now that he thought of it, Kelsniti had never told him what ultimately became of that instrument.
Recalling the tale that Sunset Island’s foundation had trembled under the instrument’s power, that power must have gradually rendered Sunset Island uninhabitable, and so they had migrated to “Blue Blossom Island”—Periwinkle. Perhaps it was because, after Anarose’s death, there was no one left to guard it well.
Or perhaps, in those days long ago, Anarose had told Icabon that the people of Sunset Island must cease using magic, lest the instrument’s seal be broken. If that were so, then with the people of Sunset Island abandoning their magic and leaving the Island, was the seal now safe?
No, such matters were of little consequence. What Joshua wished to know was the part about the idiot born from the bloodline of Anarose Tikarum herself. The true identity of Zenobia, who was said to resemble Aurelia.
“The people remembered the day the Black-Eyed Duke came seeking Sunset Island for the last time. Decades had already passed since the witch entered the tomb. The Duke, knowing his death was near, wished to meet the witch once more, but his desire went unfulfilled. It was because he had not yet been forgiven. Instead, the Duke encountered ‘Meloren, who wore the mourning badge.’ At that time, Meloren’s daughter, ‘Zenobia of the Almond Blossoms,’ was ten years old, and with her pale face and hair like almond blossoms, she seemed a young goddess. The Duke asked Meloren if he would take his daughter and depart with him. Meloren refused. The Duke took Zenobia’s hand and walked beneath the almond tree for half an hour. Meloren permitted only that much.”
Grandmother paused, then continued slowly.
“The Duke parted from them and returned across the Sea. He was fated never to meet the witch. But did the witch fail to meet the Duke? No. The witch was able to meet the Duke once more. Only, he was dead. Reunited, they never parted again. They were parted nevermore, for all eternity.”
When Grandmother fell silent, Aurelia extended her hand, groping through the empty air, and drew forth something invisible—something made of air, like an unseen teacup. Rather than accept it, Grandmother opened her mouth once more.
“Why was a child born who would not grow? The Black-Eyed Duke was blessed with incomprehensible power. His strength passed to his descendants, yet they did not remain among the multitude of the Island as the Black-Eyed Duke had. The people of the Island where blue flowers bloomed inherited the power, but fearing a child who did not love the Island’s people, they called such a one blessed to their face, and ‘demon’ behind their back.”
Joshua’s gaze remained fixed in empty space, utterly still, seeing nothing. His pale cheeks had grown ashen. Yet he said nothing.
“They did not wish for one called ‘demon’ to become Duke. They loved only a new Duke who would inherit the Duke’s heart, and they did not desire the demon who inherited the Duke’s power. For one bearing such incomprehensible power yet loving them not was the most fearsome of all. Thus, those who bore both the name of blessing and demon left the Family Clan and became known as incomprehensible madmen. Yet the people of Blue Blossom Island do not know, nor do they wish to know, that the Duke’s descendants are not only they. In this Old House where you shall spend the night, flows a single line of blood that should have inherited the Duke’s name, and from that bloodline was born the very ‘curse of the witch.’ The blood of idiots and madmen and the great and incomprehensible, the blood of the Kingdom’s shadow and the deathless covenant, blood flowing through the face of an angel and the heart of a demon….”
The cadence rose, then cut off abruptly. Joshua listened without moving. It was his own story. Beginning from Icabon, it was a blood that had ensnared Joshua as well—a blood whose nature he did not know. From that blood, Demonic was born, and madness too, and the ordinary, and the idiot.
Had Demonic been born on this side as well? Did someone else live somewhere, born of this same blood?
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, 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
—————