Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 446

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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 216.
An Angel’s Face and
The Blood Flowing Through a Demon’s Heart (25)
Maximian groaned and clutched his head, then stopped himself from kicking the box. One careless move like that could capsize the already listing ship in an instant.
Riche spoke.
“So it’s some magnificent work of art, and that makes it treasure? I suppose one could think that way, but hearing such words from your mouth doesn’t sit right, does it? It’s also strange that a pirate would chase after artwork. What’s the story behind this?”
“There’s a story, all right. As Joshua figured out, this is sheet music. Ancient stuff that nobody uses anymore, but I’ve seen this kind of music notation exactly once before. The old man at the rotting pasture had it, but he never taught me how to read it. Not that it would have mattered back then—I couldn’t have played it anyway—but the point is, I’ve definitely seen it. It was in this box. But I didn’t take it out just now. I took it out this morning, when the ship was still intact. When that Albi fellow gave it to me, I didn’t even know why. Did I have time to think about such things then? What do you think this is? Originally a pirate’s possession, a precious item that all the crew aboard this ship were slaughtered over when that clown Klang stole it, something the Duke of the Sea Icabon was searching for, which the Red Sails wanted to offer him as tribute, salvaged from the wrecked Ganapoli’s ship, and its contents are sheet music. What do you think this could be?”
While Joshua examined the sheet music without answering, Riche blinked several times before speaking.
“If it’s sheet music from Ganapoli… could it be the Sacred Chant Tradition music that Juspian mentioned drifting around the Shell Peninsula? The one that supposedly unleashes tremendous magical power when played on a violin?”
“If it’s not that, I might as well throw it back in the water right now. Besides, it’s become useless paper anyway, so it doesn’t matter what we do with it.”
….
With both Riche and Maximian falling silent, Joshua, who had calmly examined all the sheet music, finally spoke.
“What you’re saying is that this was a pristine, undamaged object this morning. As the curse or magic unraveled and aged the ship, it decayed in exactly the same way?”
“But we couldn’t have hoped the curse would break without this, could we? The fact that you obtained it in the first place was because of that curse. Otherwise it would have rotted away long ago. There’s no way to keep just this from being affected by the magic breaking.”
Maximian sighed at Riche’s words and spoke.
“Of course not. But it would have been enough if I’d just shown it to Joshua back then!”
That was absolutely true. If Joshua had merely seen it, something more perfect than the manuscript itself would have formed in his mind.
All three fell silent for a while, their spirits deflated. After a long pause, Riche spoke again.
“That Sacred Chant music you mentioned—it’s only a guess, not certain. Just because it was salvaged from the Ganapoli wreck doesn’t guarantee it’s that particular score.”
Riche seemed to be offering comfort, but Maximian shook his head.
“No. Now that I think about it, everything fits. When Albi gave me this sheet music, I didn’t understand why. But before that, when Albi saw my violin and wanted me to play—he didn’t say it in words, but he made his intention clear. Truth is, ever since I heard about it from Juspian the Mage last time, I lost confidence in playing this violin properly and didn’t want to play it just anywhere. So I refused. But then, when I opened this box, Albi tried to grab this from the bottom, and when I took it out for him, he gave it to me instead, saying it was ‘something you need.'”
They all just smacked their lips. It was irreversible, but such a waste. They’d thrown away an opportunity that doesn’t come easily.
After a long while, Riche cleared her throat and spoke again.
“Maximian, you were going to become a Mage anyway, weren’t you? Having something like this might have just gotten you caught by Juspian and condemned to being his assistant for life. So forget about it now. What can we do?”
There was nothing more to do on this ship. The group reboarded the boat. The sailors who rowed the boat were deliberately chosen from those who hadn’t come the day before, so none of them paid attention to what the group discussed. They seemed to think it was just old stories.
Riche spoke.
“One thing I don’t understand is the pirates—the fact that the curse broke just because they didn’t kill the Wandering Theater Troupe members. Looking at it that way, was the curse created from the start because of this massacre? Could something like this happen on its own even without a Mage to cast a curse? Just from doing something wrong?”
Joshua murmured.
“How would we know unless we were Mages?”
“Maximian said it too. If that were the case, there wouldn’t be a single person in the world doing bad things.”
“Right. That’s true. There might be some secret here. The only thing certain is that we can’t know.”
Just before boarding the Altena, Maximian spoke.
“Should I discard the sheet music?”
Joshua shook his head.
“No. Give it to me. Let me try to restore it. Don’t expect much. It’ll be difficult with so much erased, but some passages with fewer erasures might turn out all right.”
Intermezzo
The Storm of April
I have a long letter
That I could not send to you
And have kept in my heart all this time
Today at last I send them away
Beneath the Green Cliff
Like a swarm of white butterflies
Words of love dying away.
The place looked familiar. It was exactly as it had been on the day I left. Only the salt dish in the corner of the table had faded in color, and the violet pot that once lined the window frame now stood empty. The wreath that had hung on the door crumbled at the slightest touch, so brittle it might shatter. Beyond the open door, the sea stretched out in the same murky haze as it had that day.
How much time had passed? I could have searched my memory to find the answer, but there was no need. I hung my hat on the chair where I always sat, then pulled the opposite chair toward me—the one where he used to sit. One leg of the chair was worn down more than the others, a consequence of his habit of tilting it to one side as he stood. When I leaned back, the chair creaked in protest, struggling under my weight. Shifting my posture made no difference. I rose and retrieved the round stool from the kitchen that we once used as a footrest. Without a backrest, I pushed it against the bare wall and sat, leaning my head back against it. The moment my head touched the wall, an old scent of smoke brushed against my nostrils. It must have been my imagination—that lingering smell of oak wood we once burned in the fireplace.
There was a circular mark on the dusty table, as if a cup had once rested there. I could suddenly recall which cup it had been, and the pinwheel-shaped flower that had been placed in it. Things that have since vanished.
The house was small, unchanged from how I remembered it. On the first floor, there was this room that served as living area, dining hall, and kitchen combined, along with a warehouse outside. The spiral staircase barely completed one turn before reaching the second floor, where the bedroom lay. The image was vivid in my mind—an ebony bed with its grain carefully preserved, covered with a bedspread embroidered with small blue flowers. At the head of the bed would be an antique box that served as a bedside table, painted in teal with metal ornaments along its edges and a broken lock attached to the hinge where the lid closed. Inside that box lay someone’s old belongings—a diary that belonged to neither of us, a portrait so faded it was nearly blank, a memorial locket containing golden hair, an old hat with a veil, a bracelet woven from imperfect pearls.
Opening the latticed shutters revealed a spacious terrace. The railing, window frames, and floor were all painted white. The long bench where two could sit side by side was white as well, and the canvas awning was equally pale. From there, one could see down to the cliff and the sea. I remembered how in April of that year, white star flowers and daisies had covered the cliff’s edge. I had heard the rain drumming against the awning there, and when the sky cleared, I watched the wet petals glisten all at once.
Since leaving, those shutters had surely remained closed all this time. If I were to go back up and open them, stepping out onto the white terrace to see flowers blooming as they had that year—but she remained where she was. With her head tilted back against the wall, breathing in the scent of oak wood, she could only gaze at the dust settled on the spiral staircase and the tightly closed cupboard door beyond it.
The cross-shaped weathervane on the roof, glimpsed as I entered, swayed toward where my heart had settled. Did the house’s heart sway as well? Was it wavering too?
Today the west wind blew.
“Oh my.”
The voice from the doorway pulled me back to awareness. The shadow of sunlight on the living room floor had already shifted halfway across. The woman standing before the sea adjusted her head scarf with one hand while hesitating, a bundle of cleaning supplies in the other. Even though I no longer thought of myself as the owner of this house, I found myself asking without thinking.
“Who are you?”
“Ah, well, I came to do the cleaning. I, um…”
I remembered entrusting the house’s maintenance to someone from the Lower Village. They probably didn’t clean very often. That might explain her stammering—dust had accumulated thickly on the table where she now rested her elbows.
“Come in.”
As the woman entered, she glanced at the heavy lock and bundle of keys resting on the shoe rack. She seemed to assume that whoever held the house keys must be the owner. She came to the table, untied her bundle, and wrapped an apron around herself. Inside the bundle lay a stack of freshly laundered cloths. They would soon become cleaning rags, no doubt.
“I think… I remember meeting you before.”
I was somewhat startled when the woman spoke so suddenly. I looked at her face, but the memory didn’t come immediately.
“My name is Liz Holden.”
After all, there were only a few people I could have met in this place. Soon I remembered—the daughter of the farmer whose family I had entrusted with the house’s care. She had been newly married at the time, and not unpleasant; she was a young woman whose smile revealed charming dimples.
Liz seemed to notice me searching my memory.
“After my mother passed, I should have taken over, but I… I neglected it somewhat. Please forgive me.”
It hardly mattered now. Liz smiled slightly, but her cheeks had hollowed rather than showing dimples. She had changed so much in the interim. It was no wonder I hadn’t recognized her.
“I’m sorry. I can’t quite remember your name. What should I call you…?”
She paused to think for a moment, then spoke.
“Anne.”
Liz nodded and found the water bucket, heading outside. The sound of water being drawn came from beyond the shutters.
I thought of leaving, but I suppressed the impulse. I disliked leaving things unresolved. I had to stay here until this evening. Only then could I leave without regret.
If I had to leave at all.
Liz returned with a basket of freshly wrung cloths. Seeing that Anne still sat in the same spot, she hesitated before speaking.
“There’s so much dust here. If you stay, your clothes will get dirty.”
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
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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