Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 439

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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 209.
The Face of an Angel and
the Blood Flowing Through a Demon’s Heart (18)
It was then that a new figure appeared. He walked in slowly, yet his flamboyant attire made him impossible to miss. A loose tunic of bright amber and deep crimson stripes swept across his feet, and he wore long-nosed green shoes. Upon his head sat a jester’s cap with two long tails, adorned with black and gold bias trim that gleamed white with each seam. Bells hung from the pointed ends of the tails, jingling with every step he took.
His face was painted. His cheeks and forehead were white, while his eyes were darkened with black paint, making them appear deeply sunken. As he stood in the center of the Stage, a sinister grin spread across his lips. Without any introduction, a shrill, high-pitched climax suddenly pierced the air.
A jester’s love for a lady is a laughingstock
The lady offers him no smile
The reward for his earnest song
Is spoiled tomatoes and broken eggs
Then it stopped. At the same moment, all other sounds ceased. Silence fell as though a brief earthquake had passed. The man in the jester’s costume grinned wickedly again. He then looked around wildly before bowing with a threatening sweep of his arm toward May, who had frozen mid-dance.
May trembled with fear. The other actors on the Stage remained motionless. The actor playing Yoni, who had been snoring, suddenly awoke and scrambled to his feet with a cry.
“What’s happening?”
“What’s happening, you ask?”
His voice took on a melodic lilt as though speaking of something joyful. The jester spread both arms wide, then thrust them high into the air before sweeping them down as he shouted.
“I have come back to life.”
It is the jester’s role to delight lovers
The lady should laugh and smile at him
After singing them a song of love
He should gather a few coins and depart
The melody was cheerful, but his voice was a savage, low growl. The lyrics were melancholic, yet he was laughing. But the final verse became rough as a storm chasing an earthquake. Each time the exotic accent rang out and cut off, it was as though a hammer struck the floor. It was too intense to speak of excellence. It was not a song meant for the Stage. It was a song no one could sing as a counterpart.
The jester stopped singing again, opened his mouth wide, and burst into silent laughter. Then he shouted.
“Well then, did you not summon me? And here I have come. I have come to sing for you!”
No one answered. The jester chuckled low. Only laughter swept across the Deck like wind.
“Come now, engage with me. Sing. Sing a song worthy of me.”
The actors’ faces had gone rigid and stiff. One found courage and quickly leaped down, and the other two fled the Stage. The jester did not pursue them. Instead, he pointed to May, who was blocked from escaping by his presence.
“Sing for me. Please, sing for me!”
As May trembled uncontrollably, he sang again.
A jester’s love for a lady is a laughingstock
The lady offers him no smile
The reward for his earnest song is
Only broken Silence and shattered courtesy
As he pronounced the final syllable, he twisted his lips into a snarl, baring his teeth, and emitted a guttural growl. Hearing this sound, May burst into tears. The jester shook his head. The bells jangled sharply.
“When the lady weeps, the jester weeps too. When the lady cries, the jester collapses and writhes.”
The jester threw his head back and let out an incomprehensible shriek into the void. His voice was so powerful that even the masts seemed to tremble. In the moment silence returned, a thin cry came from the Upper Deck.
“Please don’t, Klang.”
It was the young boy Albi. He lay prone, supported only on his knees and hands, peering down from above. As the jester turned to look, the boy placed one hand over his chest and spoke.
“Please.”
“Dawn comes again today without fail. The dawn when your flesh is torn and your bones are shattered. The dawn when salt water is poured into your mouths. Your laughing jaws will be bound with rope and broken. I have witnessed it thousands of times. You ask me to stop singing? If I stop, what will change?”
A low murmur spread through the air. Within the pleasant, drunken atmosphere of the dawn festival, an unexpected prophecy of death had been heard.
“Nothing will change. So please stop.”
“Nothing changes, so I must continue. Sing. Dance. Cry and laugh until dawn arrives. The moon is setting. In the distance, I hear the sound of rigging weeping. Dawn approaches—the dawn I will watch alone, smiling.”
“There’s no flesh or bone left. Nothing left to tear, nothing left to break. How much longer must you and we, trapped together on this Ship, mock each other?”
“Ever since you hanged me from the mast, it’s always been this way. You will weep, but I have no need to weep. I died once, but you die thousands of times and continue dying. I find it exhilarating. I can enjoy this night. Especially today. Today, someone summoned me and allowed me to sing. A song—it’s been so long since I’ve sung. So sing as well, all of you. Who summoned me? Will he sing?”
At that moment, Joshua rose abruptly from among the audience and glared at him.
“I summoned you.”
Everyone turned to look at Joshua.
A jester must never be loved
He has no right to it
The young lady gives him no flowers
No handkerchief either
That night you watched the young lady
In her small room
The moment you heard the two of them whisper
A heart burning like fire
You could not suppress it
You became intoxicated
Your head grew dizzy from the sickeningly sweet fragrance
Your eyes went blind
So you need not see anything at all
It was a song in a completely different tone from the jester’s, overwhelming in an entirely different way. Without any dazzling technique or grandeur, it was like a malicious jest—and yet it was. It began with a mocking tone. But that same voice naturally shifted and twisted into self-derision.
A jester must never be loved
So you told yourself again and again
The young lady speaks not to him
She does not invite him
Yesterday again you watched the young lady
In the small room of two
Spread upon the apple, roasted hot
Honey burning like fire
The moment you taste it
It will dissolve you
As if that mouth had never existed
A sweet wound
Will wash clean your sin
A jester must never make anyone weep
He must make them laugh
The young lady does not smile for you
That must not be
Today is your turn to meet the young lady
In the small room of three
Prepared for the two who do not smile
A witty song
to sing for a moment
you would repeat
Even without a mouth, you remain endearing
There would be inconveniences
Just a few small inconveniences
This song was bizarre and demanding—not everyone understood the subtle elasticity with which Joshua shifted emotions. Yet no one could deny that their hearts were drawn along by the song’s pull. Joshua shaped his final phrase with the emotion it carried, crafting a silent smile like a mask.
“Does it please you?”
The jester stared at Joshua intently. He was the “one who was not there,” appearing in a scene he had witnessed thousands of times. He could not comprehend this.
“It does not please me. Who are you?”
“An invited guest.”
Joshua extended one hand and continued speaking.
“And the one who commands you.”
“Commands me? You summoned me? What do you mean?”
“You will understand. Now, please continue. You must have had so much to say. If you wish to sing, then sing. If you wish to listen, I shall continue to sing for you.”
“Is your magnificent song mocking me?”
“Not at all. I am answering in kind. I truly love your song. I only wish you could reclaim the wit you possessed in life.”
When the harbor maiden refused the cup,
I offered that drink instead to the beauty at the bow,
And gave a kiss upon her wooden cheek,
Then cast the empty bottle into the Sea.
The remaining drink was consumed by some fish,
So if tomorrow’s catch seems drunk and flushed,
Know it drank my liquor—pull it from the water
And bring it to the maiden who despises drink.
The jester’s eyebrows twitched—did he remember the song Joshua had sung?
“I have forgotten such things from life.”
“That cannot be. The dead live by the memories of their former lives, and you especially—you have witnessed the same events thousands upon thousands of times. Time has not flowed at all since your death. It is a shame you can no longer sing with such wit. Shall I sing it for you instead? My song is far superior, so this arrangement should suit you well, no?”
The jester shot a glare at Joshua. On his painted face, it was impossible to tell whether the emotion was rage or fear. Black signified anger, white signified terror.
“Your song is finer than any I have heard in all my existence. Even if you mock me, it matters not. But it changes nothing. I do not know who you are, but your appearance does not alter the outcome.”
“You wish for it not to change, do you not?”
“Only what repeats after my death repeats. I do not live again, and so these people must not be granted peace. They must not, and they shall not.”
By then, on the Deck where the intoxication had faded, people faced one another in silence, asking without words: What has happened? What meaning lies in the words exchanged between them? Some spoke aloud their questions.
“Klang is dead. So why does he stand there?”
“What do you mean we will die?”
“What does it mean—repeating?”
No one answered. Joshua spoke again.
“Your thirst for vengeance knows no bottom, so you force yourself to endure this situation. Yet it must bring you no joy at all, does it not?”
When the jester did not answer, Joshua raised his voice further.
“Or perhaps you believe there is no escape, so you force yourself to find pleasure in this situation. You squeeze out a vengeance that ran dry centuries ago, comforting yourself as you are compelled to turn the wheel. Which is it? Which rings truer to your heart? I wish to hear your true feelings.”
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 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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