Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 440

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

Episode 210.
An Angel’s Face and
The Blood Flowing Through a Demon’s Heart (19)
The jester’s head snapped toward Albi.
“Did you summon them?”
Albi shook his head.
“No. It was coincidence. Their ship simply passed by.”
“Coincidence? How can mere coincidence probe the depths of sincerity? How can coincidence perceive truth? How can coincidence summon me forth? Unless fate itself is nothing but coincidence, what can mere chance possibly resolve? If our circumstances are merely coincidental, then neither sin nor vengeance exists here. I will not diminish my fate to something so trivial. Even trapped in this hellish predicament, I will not reduce your sins or my vengeance to something as weightless as chance.”
Joshua spoke.
“Your own words prove that my appearance is no accident. I am not a ghost, and this situation is no dream. I, who have summoned you to question your sincerity and truth, am undeniably real. If I bring change to your wheel of suffering, it cannot be a trivial matter. It cannot be mere coincidence. Therefore, I have come here by necessity. We were destined to meet in this place, across centuries perhaps. Why do you think that is?”
The people who had been quietly stirring finally seemed to recognize that questions must be asked. Yoni, whose eyes had become remarkably clear despite having been drunk and collapsed moments before, asked.
“Are you magicians? Do you resurrect the dead to frighten us and gain something in return? What do you mean by ‘the worst thing’? What do you know?”
Albi’s voice rang out, and the people turned their heads.
“I’ve told you everything.”
Albi rose slowly from his prone position on the upper deck.
“Told us what? About the unspeakable thing we did. About hanging the great jester who taught and guided us, who owned this ship, from the mast. About sacrificing a friend out of fear of death. About betraying brotherhood in hopes of survival, only to die far more miserably in the end anyway.”
“Dead? Who died?”
“All of us.”
“Have you lost your mind? We haven’t died yet. We will someday, but no one knows when!”
Even as he protested, Yoni kept glancing toward the jester. So long as he stood there unharmed, no word could be dismissed as jest. Their jester, Clang da Perbur, had been hanged from the mast and died that very morning. With him standing before them now, no strange tale could be laughed away.
“No. We are all dead. We simply repeat this day, caught fast in the wheel of fate.”
The actor playing Holly asked.
“Little Albi, I don’t know when you became a prophet, but tell me—why do we die?”
“The crimson sail.”
That alone was enough. Holly forced a facade of composure and asked.
“When?”
“When this dawn ends.”
“That’s impossible!”
The others’ expressions mirrored Holly’s. Albi gazed at them all with sorrowful eyes.
“I know it’s incomprehensible. But we are people who died centuries ago. We should have remained dead, yet we could not. Each time an unknown force awakens us, we are reborn only to die again. Thousands of times. You remember nothing. I remember everything.”
“Are you saying we’re under a spell?”
“Whether it’s magic or curse, the name matters little. In a few hours, you’ll understand what I mean. When we all die again this time, for a brief moment we’ll share the same memories. We’ll weep together. Until that unknown force awakens us once more…”
“Why? Tell me why! What is this unknown force? Why does this happen to us? And how can we escape it?”
“The cycle repeats at this point in time.”
Albi gazed at the motionless jester.
“Because tonight is when it happens—after Clang’s death—we cannot undo anything.”
A chilling silence fell. Someone looked up at the sky. The stars were shifting. Only about two hours remained until dawn. Someone murmured.
“I can’t believe it…”
Behind Albi, someone slowly rose. It was Maximian.
“We can’t believe it either. You commit such atrocities in the morning, then throw a party at night, drink, and even invite us? What’s wrong with your heads?”
No one answered. Maximian took two steps toward the staircase leading to the deck.
“From what we can tell, you’re not from our time—whenever that may be. Your clothes, your ship, the food you eat. And that performance you showed us? To us, it’s nothing but an old folktale.”
Holly asked with a bewildered expression.
“You’re saying you already know our performance?”
“Know it? I’ve seen it performed as puppet theater when I was young, and as a regular act at village festivals when I grew older—I’ve memorized it completely. But more importantly, you mentioned the harbors you’ve visited. There are no harbors near here anymore. They all disappeared long ago. They’re all uninhabited islands now. In these waters, there’s only one inhabited island left—Periwinkle.”
Some grew pale, unable to readily accept such a tale. Others looked around to gauge reactions, while the rest bristled with indignation.
“That’s absurd!”
“How can a harbor that was perfectly fine yesterday just vanish?”
“Are you all out of your minds?”
Maximian looked at Joshua. They exchanged glances before he spoke.
“Then look at the proof.”
Maximian descended from the upper deck with long strides, passing through the crowd. He stopped before a box positioned toward the stern. Before anyone could stop him, his hand swept away the black cloth. A large box with a lid was revealed. It had brass hinges but no lock. Instead, it was bound tightly with rope. When Maximian tapped the lid, it produced a hollow sound.
Yoni cried out.
“Don’t touch that!”
“Why? What’s inside?”
The crowd surrounded Maximian, but they couldn’t approach. It was exactly as Maximian and Riche had observed from the upper deck. A wall of people formed, maintaining a distance of about two paces. Maximian pulled the rope loose and grasped the box’s lid.
“You surround me but can’t even lay hands on me—what’s the point? Just tell me what’s inside. If you won’t, I’ll open it myself and see.”
Another person pleaded.
“Please, don’t open it.”
“Then speak. I’m asking what’s inside.”
The Old Sailor said.
“If, by some chance, we’re truly cursed and repeating the same night over and over as young Albi says… opening that box won’t bring you any good either.”
Maximian responded as if he’d anticipated this.
“Ah, so you think the same? You believe this is the cause? Then what’s inside must be obvious. I don’t even need to open it to know, but I’m curious about one thing. Who cast this spell? Who is the one who laid such a powerful curse?”
At that moment, May, who had been huddled in the corner of the stage, stammered and opened her mouth.
“Um, um, Cl… Clang? Tell us. Was it you? Did you curse us?”
The clown shook his head and looked at Maximian.
“I don’t know. Do you?”
“Well, it depends on where you place the direct cause. That’s why I’m asking. I understand you committed something terrible, but not everyone who commits terrible acts receives such terrible punishment. If every victim who curses their wrongdoer ends up like this, there wouldn’t be a single person in the world who harms others.”
When no one responded, Maximian grasped the lid with both hands and shouted.
“Shall I show the skeptics among you the proof?”
Maximian wrenched the lid open with force. The hinges had already corroded, so the lid separated easily, then fell to the deck with a clang. Simultaneously, the surrounding crowd stumbled backward. Maximian peered inside.
It was completely empty.
“Ah…”
Those who couldn’t accept it trembled as they approached. They too saw the empty box. One by one they gathered, soon crowding around it without gaps. Those who turned away after seeing inside had eyes filled with panic.
“This can’t be. How is this possible?”
“Where did it go? Did it really come back to life?”
“It was definitely dead… I confirmed it myself…”
“Ah… I feel like I’m dreaming…”
Albi descended from the upper deck. He pushed through the crowd and peered into the box. It wasn’t completely empty. Scattered among the dust were a worn small box and something resembling paper. Albi bent down, but his hand couldn’t reach the bottom. Maximian stretched his arm instead and picked up the bundle of papers. Upon touching it, he noticed the texture differed from ordinary paper. In any case, Maximian gathered it and handed it to Albi.
“No.”
Albi gathered the papers and placed them back into Maximian’s hands. Maximian looked at the young boy with a puzzled expression. Albi spoke.
“It’s what you need.”
Maximian examined the papers. As he turned the first page, he found it densely covered with symbols he couldn’t readily decipher. The back was no different. Thinking he wouldn’t understand anyway, he flipped through to the end without much care. But the moment he turned to the final page, something suddenly struck him. Though there were no staves and the notation methods for notes and rests differed, this was sheet music.
There was no time to ask further. As the jester approached the box, everyone hastily retreated. They didn’t even want their clothing to brush against him. The jester paid no mind and peered into the box, then burst into a cackling laugh.
“It’s gone. Turned to dust so cleanly. It must have become that way ages and ages ago. You said nothing can be undone? That’s the truth. I am dust now. But you are beings mocked by dust. You seem to think I cursed you into this state, yet I know no such magic, nor do I know how to lift your curse, nor do I know how to escape myself. I only know how to laugh. A jester’s job is to laugh—to laugh on behalf of those who don’t. So I shall laugh to my heart’s content. Even if it grows tiresome, though you can’t even feel that anymore, we have no choice but to awaken each time that ‘incomprehensible force’ Albi spoke of takes hold and repeat this tedious play!”
Then Joshua spoke.
“It’s too early to give up. The investigation is only beginning now.”
Joshua strode forward and stood face to face with Clang da Perbur. Everyone had retreated, leaving the two of them alone.
“Your corpse has turned to dust, yet this ship remains far more intact than one would imagine. Your corpse appears to be the only thing aboard this vessel that escaped the curse. Then where did this curse originate, and how far does its reach extend? More importantly, from now on, for you to die, there must be someone to kill you. What crime do they commit by killing you thousands of times? Why were even they included in the curse?”
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.

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