Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 447

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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 217.
The Face of an Angel and
the Blood Flowing Through a Demon’s Heart (26)
Liz nodded and entered the Kitchen. I thought she might choke on the dust if she swept it away, so she seemed intent on wiping everything down with a cloth one by one.
My assumption was wrong. The sound of cabinet doors and cupboards opening filled the air, and Liz emerged with a large basket overflowing with everything she’d swept from inside. While I watched in astonishment, she carried them outside the Home and dumped them somewhere, returning with only the empty basket. Next came the curtains and cushions. Chair covers, tablecloths, lampshades—everything was crammed into the basket. It seemed excessive in how haphazardly she was mixing things together. It was as though she were extracting everything from the Home except the structure itself.
When Liz’s hand touched the decorative cloth draped over the mantelpiece, I finally opened my mouth.
“What are you doing with that?”
The answer I’d anticipated tumbled out.
“Throwing it away.”
“Why?”
“Because I was told to.”
Who could have said such a thing? While I stared blankly, Liz crumpled the decorative cloth—clumsily embroidered with pinwheel-shaped blue flowers—and shoved it into the basket. The small ornaments beside it were swept along as well. I opened the window and peered outside. A hand cart sat there, piled high with items removed from the Home. The cloth with the pinwheel flowers would soon join that same fate. When Liz returned, I struggled to suppress my emotions as I spoke.
“Who ordered this?”
Liz’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Weren’t you here to oversee it?”
“Answer the question. Who told you to clean this place and throw all of this away?”
“I… I just… I only did what I was told…”
Frightened by my tone, Liz began to whimper. I simply stared at her with compressed lips, taking time to collect myself. This woman was not at fault. I had no right to be angry with her.
“I’m not blaming you. I only want to confirm that the orders weren’t misunderstood.”
Reassured by my words, Liz exhaled heavily. With tears streaking her eyes, she looked even more haggard than before.
“There was a letter with an official seal. The same person who came before. They said the Duke would be visiting soon, so all the soiled items should be discarded, and the curtains, sheets, and cushions should all be replaced with white ones. They said white would be better because he’d be coming with the Bride…”
The word “Bride” caught like a thorn. I barely restrained myself from asking for clarification. It was not new information. I had known for a long time that this day would come. I would not show renewed interest. I would ask nothing more. It was already broken. There was no turning back.
I gripped the edge of the table to stop my fingertips from trembling. I could not hide it completely. Liz faltered.
“You… you seem surprised.”
I spoke after a long pause.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I think… I might understand a little.”
Understand what? I lifted my head. Only then did I realize I had been looking down. The pity in her gaze made it harder to endure.
“I know it’s presumptuous of me to say, but when I saw you long ago, it seemed the Duke was very fond of you.”
“…”
Shame welled up. Even though blaming someone ignorant of our circumstances would change nothing, my voice emerged sharp and strained.
“You know nothing, so stop meddling and leave.”
Liz couldn’t even answer properly before fleeing to the Kitchen to avoid my gaze. I tried to compose myself. There was still time before sunset. It was the hour I had promised myself. Was there any point in enduring until then? No. I had anticipated this, and now it was confirmed.
I had come here with little expectation.
My gaze fell upon the spiral Staircase. Climbing there would lead to the white Terrace. I would see the Cliff blanketed in spring blossoms and the Sea shrouded in delicate mist. I wanted to see that place one last time. Even if it meant nothing now.
Or perhaps it was better not to see it at all.
I rose and went to the Kitchen. The sound of Liz wringing out the cloth grew closer as she worked. She recognized my presence immediately and quickly set down the cloth, standing upright.
“I’m sorry, Miss. I was wrong.”
I shook my head. It had been wrong of me to reproach someone innocent. I did not wish to cause harm to anyone.
As I leaned against the Kitchen pillar, Liz fidgeted nervously, picking up and putting down the cloth. I spoke abruptly.
“Your face looked better back then, it seems.”
“Do you… remember me?”
“I do. Even when you’d just married. You should eat more. You’ve grown so thin your dimples have vanished.”
The air in the Kitchen softened slightly. Liz exchanged her cloth for a fresh one.
“It doesn’t matter what I eat. There’s a black hole in my belly that swallows everything.”
“Your husband must be giving you troubles.”
“I wish he were.”
Liz sighed and began wiping the hearth. Words continued between the pauses.
“If only he’d come back and trouble me, if only he would—but he shows no sign of returning. I fear he’s found his grave in the Sea.”
Anne lowered her eyes.
“I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No, it’s just how we sailors’ wives live. We know what we’re getting into.”
Liz set down her cloth and wiped her brow. A fragile smile crossed her face.
“That’s why I spoke out of turn to you earlier, ma’am. Forgive me—what would someone like me know of the sorrows of noble folk?”
Anne watched Liz in silence. After working for a while, Liz felt the gaze and turned her head. Their eyes met.
Anne spoke.
“I’m going to the grave soon too.”
“Oh my.”
Liz’s expression showed she didn’t know what to say. She feared stepping forward only to be rebuked again as before, yet she couldn’t simply pretend not to hear. All of this uncertainty was written plainly across her face.
“It was decided long ago. I’m simply returning now.”
“I… ”
“We were never meant to be joined. Not while the grave awaits me. I suppose I was dreaming. This house was so beautiful—I dreamed of living here forever.”
Anne turned and climbed the Staircase to the second floor. Her slender shadow trailed across the steps before vanishing.
Liz watched Anne’s retreating figure with growing unease. The second floor she’d glimpsed earlier had a Terrace. When she’d opened it for ventilation, she’d found it overlooking the Coastal Cliff. A beautiful precipice carpeted with starflowers descended into green cliffs, then dropped sheer into the abyss just steps away. A Terrace where the wind blew like an albatross’s wings, where one might ride those wings out to the Sea. To fly away…
When the wind rattled the door, Liz couldn’t restrain herself. She bolted up the narrow Staircase. The few steps seemed endless in her haste. She stumbled twice before reaching the landing. She turned the corner. The Bedroom door stood open. She approached the threshold.
The entire room was wind. The blue-flowered quilt rustled. The shutters, the blinds sang out. Like a sail catching a gust. The Terrace had become the Bow of a Ship. It seemed about to sail into the Sea.
Anne stood at the edge of the Terrace. In her hands was something white. As she opened her hands to the sky, it scattered like butterflies. Down the Cliff, dancing as it fell.
You told me to go far away
holding my hand
to the place I’d dreamed of
to the Terrace where the Sea is visible
when we found this place
the hand of yours I held
I thought would last forever
I thought would remain eternal
even as the tempestuous spring passed
the weathervane still points to you
and standing alone on the Terrace
ah, your laughter I can never forget.
Act 12. Yearning
1. The Sailboat of Two People
A small child made of gold dances within my mind.
I do not know whether he is an angel or a demon,
yet I surrender the most precious and tender things within my body,
knowing that he will perish if I do not feed and water him each day.
Even as I wither and twist like bark, desiccated and hollow,
the golden child dances—oh, what reason to live!
Trembling with fear that you might grow weary and parched,
my stomach, ravenous and gluttonous, remains forever empty.
I dreamed a dream.
A dream I had dreamed countless times before—the dream of that day when I was nine years old, left alone in an empty house, skipping meals while reading for two days until I collapsed from hunger.
Recurring dreams signify unresolved problems, or so they say. Yet Theo’s problem had been resolved. There was no Father anymore, nor the relatives who had tormented him. The house where he spent his childhood had been burned to ash, and I heard another manor had been built in its place. Thus, the house that vanished from the world had migrated into his dreams.
At first, the dream frightened him. There were days when its afterimage lingered throughout the day. But after a year or two, he grew calm. Nothing new ever happened in the dream. Everything unfolded exactly as it had in the past. If that were so, there was nothing to fear. He need only observe.
In the dream, Theo sat in a dark room, candlelight illuminating a book. It was an old, suspicious tome discovered in the Attic. On that day, to finish reading it while Father was away, he had not even gone to Belvedere. As always, there was almost nothing to eat in the Home. The dried bread he had scavenged from the Kitchen that morning was consumed before noon, and afterward, lost in the book, he had forgotten to eat altogether.
The book was titled “Children of Black Magic.” It was filled with cruel illustrations and methods for cursing people to death. Grim tales from various regions were jumbled together without order, containing sorcery and prophecies believed in lands of long nights, ways to divine fate, and scattered throughout were incantations and magical circles.
Looking back now, many were fraudulent incantations designed merely to frighten readers, but young Theo had been so captivated by the fascinating content that he wished he could truly learn such things and kill people. Who should he kill first? It seemed best to start with his great-uncle, who had tormented Father. His cousins, who had scorned him, would be next. There was no shortage of people to kill—the baker’s wife who wouldn’t sell him even a crumb of bread, the old man in the Orchard who would stone anyone who lingered—the list was endless.
Perhaps because he had read it until he could recite it, dream-Theo was reading passages of an eerie vividness.
To discover your inborn fortune, you must find your birthday by the moon’s date. For the moon’s date governs the hidden half of your life.
If you were born during the waxing crescent, then as commonly known, you were born wearing fortune’s shoes. The pointed crescent—fortune’s shoes—are the possessions of fairies who bestow astonishing talent and luck.
Since fortune is what fills the shoes, the emptier the shoes—that is, the dates when the moon is hollow—the more fortune one receives. When the moon is half full, there is no room left to receive. Those born beneath the half-moon must make their lives with only what they hold in their hands.
The waning moon, too, is empty shoes, so those born then also receive fortune’s shoes. Though it may be worse than having none at all.
Shoes come in pairs. Every waning moon has a precisely symmetrical waxing crescent. The owner of this waxing crescent shoe, who would complete a pair with the shoes he possesses, is called the “Barefoot Master” or the “Overtaker.” So long as he is never met, there is no problem. But should they encounter each other, in that instant the paired shoes pass to the waxing crescent’s owner.
As a result, the waxing crescent’s owner gains double fortune, while the waning moon’s owner loses everything.
Therefore, waning moon owners sharpen their fangs throughout their lives, waiting for the “Overtaker.” There is but one way to reclaim fortune’s shoes, and every waning moon owner knows it.
You, who have taken up this book, must know it too.
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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