Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 479

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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 249.
Playing Oneself (25)
“….”
Standing behind him, Riche watched as Maximian covered his mouth with his hand. Shallow, rapid breaths escaped through the gaps between his fingers. Even he, who always found composure first no matter what happened, could not contain himself—unable to speak or move.
Hispanie sat down and carefully grasped Joshua’s wrist. He checked his pulse and breathing, examined the inside of his mouth, tore away the blood-soaked shirt, and pressed multiple towels firmly against the wound. As he did so, sweat beaded on the old man’s forehead.
When his eyes met Duke Arnim’s, Hispanie spoke.
“At this rate, shock will set in.”
The Duke facing his uncle wore an expression difficult to describe.
“…He’s already lost too much blood.”
“We must… do our best to the end.”
The Duke could not even compose himself enough to nod. He merely turned his head away and closed his eyes once.
“The Doctor has arrived.”
At the sound from behind, several people stepped aside. Only then did Riche see Joshua’s condition. Her hands trembled so badly she could not steady herself. The sight of blood made her head spin and her breath catch.
“Please step back.”
The Doctor and his assistants pushed Riche and the others out of the way. Maximian, seated at Joshua’s head, showed no sign of moving unless forcibly removed.
Riche tried to catch her breath but could not manage it. Tears blurred her vision, and everything became a chaos. She stumbled backward and collapsed into the nearest chair. Time flowed in disarray. A stretcher was brought in, several more people came and went. Soon, a stretcher covered with a thin sheet was carried from the room. The Head Servant had cleared the corridor beforehand so the gathered servants could not see it. The Duke, Hispanie, and others followed behind the stretcher.
Riche rose to follow. Then she heard a voice calling from one side. Turning, she saw an Elderly Maid.
“Are you a friend of Count Armorique?”
“Yes….”
“Come this way.”
The Elderly Maid gestured for Riche to follow and led her to another door. Armed retainers guarded this entrance as they had the Duke’s chamber. As the maid approached, they opened the way. Seeing Riche hesitate, the maid urged her on.
“Come inside.”
She wavered but could not refuse. Upon entering, a more elegant chamber appeared than before. She crossed a parlor decorated with delicate iris-patterned wallpaper and a blue chandelier, then stepped into the Bedroom. An unconscious figure lay upon the bed. Blood droplets on a blue-tinged vest caught her eye. The moment she glimpsed the profile turned toward the wall, Riche let out an involuntary cry.
“Ah!”
Before the Elderly Maid could caution her, the person sitting beside the bed waved a hand toward the maid—a gesture meaning it was fine. It was The Lady in white indoor clothes, and blood droplets stained her garments as well.
“You must have been frightened.”
Her voice was low and calm. Riche found herself retreating to the door. She barely managed to open her mouth toward The Lady, but her voice came out hoarse.
“No, I… yes….”
“It’s all right.”
The Lady gathered her golden hair up, and her face was familiar. Not entirely, but there was a resemblance.
“I am Joshua’s Mother. You said you were Joshua’s friend?”
The thought that this lady was the Duchess of Arnim struck Riche, and she did not know what to do with herself. Even though she had traveled speaking casually to the Young Duke, the weight of the Duchess she met in the Castle was entirely different.
In the end, the Elderly Maid cautioned her.
“What are you doing? You haven’t given your name.”
“Riche… Riche Avril… it is.”
“I see. You traveled with Joshua?”
“Yes.”
“Your arm was injured. For such a young lady to endure such a harsh journey with such hardship.”
Riche, not a sheltered noblewoman, could not respond and hesitated. The Duchess regarded her with worried eyes and spoke.
“You must have helped my son greatly. Thank you.”
I suddenly wondered why the Duchess of Arnim was here while Joshua hovered at death’s door. Then the Duchess turned her head to gaze down at the figure lying in the bed.
“I once raised two children, but only Joshua remains. Yet now I’ve become a mother to two children again.”
Riche’s eyes merely blinked. She couldn’t immediately grasp the Duchess’s meaning. A question escaped her lips before she could stop it.
“You… you’re saying you consider both of them as sons? I mean, forgive me, but I don’t quite understand.”
The Elderly Maid tapped Riche’s sleeve. The child they’d brought to comfort the grieving Duchess couldn’t afford to lack manners. Yet once Riche opened her mouth, she was the type who couldn’t easily swallow her words back down.
“We’ve come believing that we should eliminate that person lying there… no, the doll. Because there can’t be two identical people in the world… we thought it had to be done for Joshua’s sake. The Mage told us the same thing. I apologize if my words sounded disrespectful. But….”
“No. What you say is also correct.”
The Duchess turned her gaze back toward the bed.
“If there were two identical people, how much suffering would they endure? I understand the heart that made you want to help Joshua. Your friend is the child you traveled with, not this child lying here.”
Riche still cast a fearful glance at the bed. The “doll” lay there. The existence they had decided must be eliminated. She knew it possessed the same appearance, the same personality, the same memories as Joshua, yet her true feelings seemed far removed from such thoughts. In her mind, the doll was nothing but a “monster.”
Yet what truly frightened her was not that the monster looked like a monster, but that it looked exactly the same. Riche had just witnessed Joshua, whose life hung by a thread. Yet another Joshua lay here quietly, as if sleeping. As if her memories were lies.
“But I am a mother.”
The Duchess’s tone was steeped in sorrow, yet composed.
“If only one of two children is real, and if I decide to love only the real one, then the other becomes a child without a mother. Isn’t a mother the one who embraces her child until the very end, no matter what cruel things they do? If even such a mother turns away, how would that child’s heart be torn apart?”
Riche didn’t know what expression to wear.
“But….”
“I too found it difficult to accept. I don’t even understand how such a thing is possible. But as you can see, this child is identical to the Joshua you know. I’ve spent several months with this child, so I know well.”
Would a mother love her children equally if she had two, or ten? Does the depth of affection a parent feels differ between raising one child and raising two, or ten? If raising ten children means the love given is only one-tenth? Or does tenfold love naturally spring forth?
“Honestly, I think I can only feel deceived.”
The Duchess shook her head.
“If you truly understood that both children are the same, you would become as lost as I am. Can the time and affection I’ve shared with that child over several months be simply erased? Can you easily erase the months you spent with the Joshua you know? If you could, wouldn’t there be no reason to choose between one child and the other? No one experiences the same time twice. The months you spent with that child and I spent with this child already exist. None of us can take lightly the time we’ve lived through.”
Yet Riche knew only one Joshua. Tears welled in her eyes as she pleaded.
“But Joshua might not have long to live, and if you’re not by his side….”
“I know. But if this child wakes to find that even his mother has abandoned him, the thought of his suffering makes it impossible for me to leave. That child has his father and everyone else by his side, so I will protect this one. Both have lost consciousness, and their breathing grows weak. Perhaps I will soon lose both children.”
Her heart seemed to understand one moment, then became confused again when she thought of Joshua. Riche couldn’t answer and averted her gaze. She could no longer distinguish which was selfishness and which was selflessness, which was affection and which was coldness.
Suddenly, one fact came to mind.
“Then the one who stabbed Joshua was….”
The Duchess nodded.
“This child stabbed him.”
Riche lost her certainty. This matter exceeded her comprehension. One thing was clear: the person who spent time with Riche, her friend, was not the doll lying here. If she had to keep vigil at his bedside, if she had to witness his final moments, it would not be this one. Riche made a hesitant farewell and fled from the chamber.
At the door, Riche encountered the Young Blond Boy. A child of three or four with blonde hair and an indifferent expression. His face, showing no surprise, remained in her memory. The child entered the chamber without even looking at Riche.
A day passed.
No one opened their eyes.
Silence settled over the Castle. The Forest lay empty and the doors were closed. Even the birdsong had died. Perhaps the birds still sang in truth. But no one heard them.
August 23rd. The sky was indifferently clear.
“Grandfather.”
Walls made by fastening planks to a log frame, with gaps appearing in places; a fireplace that hadn’t been lit in years; an old table with legs adjusted only to match the height; a ceiling that seemed to leak rain. It was a house long neglected, one that would naturally become part of the Forest in a little while longer.
Dust swirled in the light seeping through the door gap. It resembled the spotlight illuminating the lead actor on stage. Yet the lead actor was absent, so it merely brightened the floorboards in vain.
Maximian placed his hand into the light, then withdrew it. And he picked up the chalk again.
“The mark extends from here to here. Like this.”
Chalk scraped across the wooden floor. A straight line, then a bend, then another straight line—and so the elongated hexagon took shape. Hispanie, who had been peering down at it, tilted his head in puzzlement.
“Hmm.”
“What do you think this is?”
Hispanie rose from his crouched position and looked down at the figure. Dust scattered in the air.
“A coffin.”
Maximian held the chalk, staring blankly at what he had drawn. Then he let it fall from his fingers. He raised both hands behind his head. Debris was piled against his back, preventing him from lying down, but his face bore the exhaustion of someone who desperately wanted to.
“For a coffin, it seems rather odd.”
“It does.”
Hispanie settled back into his seat as he spoke.
“It’s too small.”
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, you must obtain written consent from both parties.

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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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