Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 426

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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 196.
The Face of an Angel and
the Blood Flowing Through a Demon’s Heart (5)
Joshua regarded Aurelia with an amused expression.
“But Aurelia, you said you weren’t Demonic, yet you don’t seem like an ordinary twelve-year-old girl either.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re far less ordinary than you believe yourself to be. Besides, you’ve never actually encountered a Demonic before—not until me, at least.”
“Of course, but…”
“That’s right. Even with bloodline inheritance, I never thought until today that births and non-births could occur with such regularity. Perhaps each Demonic was different after all. Perhaps I myself am not identical to those of old. Yes, my own family had one too. My dead sister was no ordinary simpleton. I found her pitiful, envied her, found her tiresome, felt frustrated with her. But now I don’t remember her by such things. There remains an emptiness in one corner of my heart—the affection she gave me that I could never fully repay. That emptiness is her place within me.”
Aurelia hesitated briefly before speaking.
“I’m only ten years old.”
Joshua smiled.
“One thing is certain—a ten-year-old girl cannot speak as you do. Whether or not you’re Demonic, you’re certainly no mediocrity. Now that I think about it, you’ve barely encountered ordinary people. Most importantly, even spirit mediums cannot handle multiple spirits simultaneously the way you do.”
Joshua pointed upward.
“You’ve lived with spirits instead of people. That’s quite dangerous. Did those spirits teach you anything worthwhile?”
A peculiar smile played across Aurelia’s lips.
“You’re a medium yourself, but your method of handling spirits is inferior to mine.”
This time Joshua was taken aback.
“How so?”
“Spirits are…”
Sunlight streamed abundantly through the Backyard door, yet neither of them felt any unease discussing spirits. They were both far too accustomed to them. Aurelia raised her fingers toward the ceiling, waved them twice, closed her eyes, and withdrew a long needle from her pocket. Without giving Joshua time to protest, she drove it straight through her right palm.
“Ah!”
Joshua sprang to his feet in shock, but Aurelia remained perfectly composed. The needle clearly pierced through her palm, yet not a single drop of blood flowed. She calmly withdrew the needle. Naturally, no wound remained.
“This is another way to handle them.”
“H-how is that possible?”
“A spirit momentarily possessed my body.”
“Possession? But that’s still your hand—how could…”
The more Joshua’s astonishment grew, the more triumphant Aurelia became.
“It’s different from possession. Possession borrows the spirit’s consciousness or the spiritual power gained after death, but this depends on who the spirit was in life. I borrow the abilities they possessed while alive. In other words, I allow the spirit’s memories of how they controlled their body in life to replace my own bodily memories. Though it’s only temporary, memory proves surprisingly powerful in governing the body.”
“Even if that were possible, are you saying there exists a person whose palm can be pierced by a needle without consequence?”
“Ah, yes.”
With her chin slightly raised, she looked exactly like a precocious young lady, and Joshua nearly burst into laughter.
“This spirit had no right hand in life. You cannot pierce what does not exist.”
“…”
Having witnessed it firsthand, he could not simply laugh it off. He was not immediately convinced, yet it was undeniably remarkable.
“I cannot command just any spirit to do this. They must repeatedly undergo possession until we grow accustomed to each other, and above all, the spirit must be willing to lend such memories. Just as Kelsniti follows you, certain spirits follow me. We maintain reasonably good relations. The only drawback is that borrowed memories don’t last long. You might be able to extend their duration. There are countless applications. One skilled in swordplay could lend swordsmanship; one skilled in magic could lend magic. It’s unfortunate I lack such exceptional spirits nearby. If I had the spirit of a Demonic, I could even pretend to be one, however briefly.”
Joshua’s expression suddenly hardened. Now that he thought about it, Maximian had told him about the time he departed Calaisso Harbor—how Joshua had fought mercenaries without ever having trained in swordplay, wielding a blade at tremendous speed and felling opponents with something akin to magic. The difference was that Joshua remembered none of it.
If, as Aurelia suggested, some spirit had rushed in wanting to lend Joshua such power, it was remarkable enough that this occurred without practice. But more remarkable still was the power itself that he had borrowed. With that strength, Joshua had effortlessly toppled dozens and even fought the Salaryman to a standstill.
What manner of spirit had entered him, possessing such formidable power in life?
“Why do you ask?”
Aurelia asked, observing Joshua’s expression.
“Come to think of it… I believe I’ve done something similar myself, long ago.”
“Really?”
Aurelia seemed somehow displeased. Joshua quickly shook his head.
“But I don’t remember it. A friend told me about it later, so I learned what happened. It was probably just a coincidence.”
“You don’t remember? Did you lose consciousness? For how long?”
“Well… since I don’t remember, I wouldn’t know.”
Aurelia’s expression grew serious.
“If you don’t remember, it could mean multiple powerful spirits entered you at once… But you came through unscathed? Accomplished it without practice? No, that’s right—you’re Demonic, so you’re different from me. But if you can’t remember, you wouldn’t know who that spirit was, which means you couldn’t summon them again…”
As Aurelia spoke of how I was different because I was Demonic, she seemed less tormented than before. Her mind was occupied with a different concern.
“The spirit at my side says that if a spirit would attempt such a thing without even asking your consent… well, it would be close to a vengeful spirit. So the fact that it succeeded remains a mystery. But the reason such a vengeful spirit would help you is because of an intense obsession—an unfulfilled wish from life that death couldn’t erase. Though I don’t know who they are, I hope their wish will be granted. That’s what they’re saying.”
The spirit that followed Aurelia was invisible to Joshua’s eyes. He recalled Kelsniti’s words about how not all mediums could see every spirit in the world.
Yet what Aurelia said revived Joshua’s troubled thoughts. If such an obsession existed, he already knew what it was. Then was that power from the People of Promise? Did they protect me while stealing my consciousness because I was the Duke who could fulfill their wishes?
Come to think of it, when I first met the Salaryman, there was also a presence that helped me break his wrist.
But if this assumption was correct, why didn’t anyone mention this problem when I met them in my inner world to drive out Korned? And it’s been the same since. Even Kelsniti never brought it up.
A bird’s cry echoed from outside, long and mournful. Joshua shook his head, trying to dispel the tangled thoughts.
“I came here to attend a funeral, after all.”
“That’s right.”
Aurelia rose and gestured toward the second floor. There, Joshua sensed the presence of unseen beings. He started to stand but suddenly looked down at the floor. Before him sat a cup of liquor.
“…”
The drink, half-empty as if someone had been drinking from it, had grown cold. Joshua realized he was the one who had drunk it. He looked at Grandmother. About to reach out to her motionless form, he instead thrust his hand into his pocket and withdrew a coin that didn’t exist. He pressed it into Grandmother’s hand.
“This is the deceased’s share. Please take it.”
Grandmother nodded slowly and rose to her feet. Though unsteady, she needed no support. She walked slowly to the coffin and lay down—not on it, but within it. There was no need to open the lid. Where Grandmother had been, only a handful of dust stirred, rising from an old blanket.
Joshua approached the coffin. Black dust had accumulated on its lid. Aurelia came near and gestured to someone beside the coffin to rise. Though there was no visible sign, Joshua nodded in acknowledgment.
Shortly after, Joshua lifted the coffin from the rear and carried it with the unseen beings into the Backyard. The coffin was, as expected, terribly heavy.
A grave already existed in the Backyard. They set the coffin down behind the gravestone. Aurelia knelt before it and spoke.
“Sleep well and long.”
Joshua read the inscription carved into the gravestone. It was remarkably simple.
Wetheren Loerticaram. ‘Sleeps without dreams’
805~971
3. The Mystery of Sunset Island
I know what you left behind
I know what you wrapped in violet silk and abandoned
I know what you buried deep with a pickaxe
I know what you hoped no one would ever unearth
At last your secret rots into compost
Becomes soil that nourishes trees, blooms flowers
When fruit finally bears, it is not yours
Even if poison dwells in the fruit, it is not your fault
“At least I slept soundly for once, and that was good.”
Maximian glanced around the room before speaking. The figure sitting in the chair tilted his head quizzically.
“Well, I suppose I can’t say I didn’t sleep a bit excessively. But I’ve accumulated quite a substantial sleep debt over time, you see. A person ought to sleep about ten hours a day to spend the remaining hours pleasantly and productively—yet some days I managed seven hours, other days five, and still others merely three. This pattern continued relentlessly. As for whose fault that is, I won’t dwell on it, but I’ve been keeping careful track. Days I slept seven hours, I noted down three hours owed; days I slept five hours, five hours owed; days I slept three hours, seven hours owed. I’ve been diligent in my accounting. The result? I discovered I needed to sleep continuously for four days and seventeen and a half hours to settle the debt. So far, I’ve only slept fourteen hours. You might think I’m being frugal, but I prefer to believe it’s simply a matter of propriety. Besides, it’s not even lunchtime yet.”
Maximian glanced at the cold breakfast sitting on the adjacent table before continuing.
“So, being the proper fellow that I am, I got up and went searching for my friend who’d been suffering through sleepless nights—only to find the wretch has vanished without a trace! Now, a truly considerate friend would either leave a note about where he’s going, inform someone of his whereabouts, or at the very least sneak back home before his friend wakes up. Surely one of those three is the minimum standard, wouldn’t you say? Especially when this isn’t some hometown village I’ve lived in for ten years, and especially when I’m being hunted by some bizarre fellow—someone bizarrely persistent in his pursuit, no less—someone who threatens my very life! Isn’t that right?”
The figure scratched the back of his neck apologetically, then let out a yawn. When Maximian glared at him, he straightened his posture.
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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