Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 510

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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 280.
Beneath the Almond Tree (23)
My hand froze before knocking. I already knew no one would answer. When I pulled the door open, it made a cold clicking sound.
“It’s been a while.”
The blue carpet faded slowly even without anyone treading upon it. The morning and evening sunlight left its mark without fail. Two of the chair’s rounded legs cast shadows, while the others basked in light.
I ran my hand across the chair. The velvet pile lay in patterns, scattered in all directions. My fingertips, which had traced spirals countless times before, finally stilled. The chair bore only large and small circles whose purpose I could no longer discern.
Perhaps this room was not preserved at all. It differed greatly from when Ivnoa used it. Back then, it was neither this clean nor this elegant. Between the chair and desk, crushed cake and half-eaten fruit scraps rolled about. With shoes pounding the floor daily, the wood never remained intact. In a large box placed prominently, a heap of tattered dolls was stacked. Those dolls, which I had bitten and torn since childhood, resembled war veterans who had survived the battlefield. Yet no matter how old or worn, each one remained there always—I would have noticed immediately if even one had vanished.
All of it had disappeared somewhere. This room now pretended to be the place where a twenty-year-old elegant mistress walked without leaving a single mark upon the carpet.
“Sister, if you were here.”
I started to speak but burst into laughter instead. My heart raced so violently I couldn’t bear it without laughing.
“Listen to my story. It’s from a picture book you used to read—about someone passing through the gates of hell guarded by two lions to retrieve gold and silver treasures. When that person tried to pass through the gates of hell….”
I turned my head toward the window.
“The lion said: leave your shadow behind. Only then would it let you pass. The person said his shadow was part of himself and couldn’t be separated. Then the lion replied: that’s not true. Your shadow is not part of your body, and it even wishes to be separated from you. Once separated, the shadow will live freely.”
I leaned against the desk, my back to the chair flooded with light, as if someone sat there listening to my words.
“Have I become free?”
The leaves outside the window rustled gently. They neither confirmed nor denied it.
“Or have I lost my shadow?”
Then the wind ceased, and the leaves fell silent.
“They say I slept for an incredibly long time. It’s hard to believe. No one could survive that long without eating. It would be more plausible to say I died and came back to life, wouldn’t it?”
I nodded as if affirming my own words.
“So I wondered: did I die? Did I step into the world of the dead? Did I see ‘that door’ which the dead are said to see first?”
I shook my head.
“I didn’t see it. Or if I did, I don’t remember. Is it because I cannot go there? Is the place where I go when I die not the world of the dead, but the garbage bin where cloth dolls are discarded?”
I tried not to be overwhelmed by emotion, but it was useless. My lower lip trembled.
“You would know well, sister. What that door looks like. Whether you’ve already departed beyond it or not yet….”
I turned around. I stared directly at the empty velvet chair. The circles I had drawn were now faint. My breathing quickened slightly.
“Answer me. If you haven’t left, you can answer, can’t you? You have to show me. At least let me hear your voice. Do you hear me? Can’t you hear? Did you come while I was sleeping?”
Dust fell slowly from the silent air that gave no answer.
“You won’t answer me? You don’t want to answer? Like Kelce? Like everyone else? Am I not your brother?”
Then came the sound of knocking on the door.
….
I gave no answer. I only glared at the door while forcibly biting my trembling lip. Then a voice came through.
“Are you in there?”
My body went rigid. A chill ran down my spine. I stumbled backward, gripping the desk. I staggered without meaning to. I looked toward the window. An urge to jump seized me.
I didn’t want him to see my face. My face burned as if my naked body had been exposed. I wanted to hide forever. Hide myself—the face thief. Hide the fact that I had stolen what was his, a mark burned upon me for all to see.
“May I come in?”
No matter how ashamed, I could not flee forever. I would have to meet him eventually. Should it be now? Did I have a choice? Did the timing matter?
After a moment, an answer cut through the torrent of thoughts.
“Yes.”
The door opened.
It had been one year and five months since I had both eagerly awaited and dreaded this moment. Beyond the window, I saw the Young Boy standing with his back to the light. Hair grown long enough to brush his shoulders, white indoor clothes, pallid cheeks—he was looking at me. No, only for a moment. His gaze dropped lower. My chest rippled with emotion.
I leaned against the door frame and forced myself to find ordinary words.
“Your hair has grown long.”
“I couldn’t cut it.”
The tone was oddly familiar, and we both fell silent. Several seconds passed without either of us speaking.
“Someone told me you were in this room.”
The Young Boy lifted his head and smiled slowly before speaking.
“Why are you acting like that? As if you’re just going to state your business and leave.”
I stepped away from the door but still didn’t move closer.
“That’s what I intended.”
“There’s no need for that. Come here and sit.”
The Young Boy pulled the chair he had been looking at moments before. He brushed away the irregular marks left on its surface. I observed him intently—it felt like watching how others perceived me.
As I hesitated, the Young Boy’s eyes narrowed.
“What? Are you afraid I’ll stab you if you come closer?”
I entered and sat in the chair across from him. It was less than two steps away. When our eyes met, I smiled bitterly.
“You’re just as dangerous.”
“True. Since I stabbed you once, it’s your turn now.”
“No. We’ve each had our turn, so it’s even.”
The Young Boy closed his mouth. He swallowed, swept his hair back with his fingers, pressed his lips together, and then his expression went blank. During the silence that followed, I almost leaned against the left armrest but suddenly realized he was mirroring my posture exactly.
….
Heat rose to my cheeks. The Young Boy watched me quietly. The sudden breathlessness that had seized me gradually subsided.
“So? Did you spend time wondering whether to kill me while I slept?”
“Not then. It was before I even faced you.”
The moment I recalled it, that emotion poured over me like black ink. The darkness of that night engulfed my vision. It was suffocating, viscous. Back then, I had reached out over an empty bed. If the Young Boy had been sleeping there, I would surely have strangled him.
The Young Boy’s gaze turned cynical.
“Of course you’ve imagined killing me countless times. If imagination alone were a crime, perhaps you’d be the debtor. My awareness of your existence was very brief. Even briefer if you exclude the time I slept. When I stabbed you, I had no time to think deeply. But you—you haven’t forgotten this problem for a single moment since learning of my existence, have you?”
The Young Boy had only been awake for days, yet he had already reversed our positions in his mind and was now observing me from that perspective. His remarkably swift objectivity left me breathless. He was too much like me.
If he understood this, if he truly comprehended it, then nothing should be hidden. I nodded.
“Yes, you’re right. I’ve had no peace, night or day. At night I dreamed of you, and during the day I spoke to you though you were invisible. I never thought this moment would come. You’re right. I tried to destroy the original. If it had been where I imagined, everything might have ended before we ever faced each other.”
The Young Boy didn’t answer. Instead of anger or mockery, he stared at me intently. The forced cynicism crumbled. His face twisted subtly. It trembled. His cheeks, jaw, and lips struggled to hold their place. But his eyes—his eyes could not. The swelling pupils finally shattered.
“Why… didn’t you do it!”
Water flowed into the room that had dried like a dead bouquet since the mistress left. Not mercury or sulfur, but warm, salt-tinged water. Everyone held their breath. The chair, the books, the puppets in their long rest—nothing whispered.
I stood. I stopped, unable to approach immediately. Then I took another step. The carpet swallowed all sound. Even my knees touching the floor made no noise.
When I first touched his cheek, the thought that came to me was: warm.
I extended my arms and pulled him close. Kneeling, I leaned my upper body forward. After a moment, his body collapsed. His bent shoulders touched my cheek, and a few tears rolled down my forehead.
Such an unbelievable existence. As if we were one body. If the ground beneath us was the earth, a single root must extend below our feet. A single umbilical cord must stretch between us. For the first time, I forgave the countless selves that lived in my mind. I had given birth to them all. The genius, the demon, the monster, the fool—all me. My sins, my shell, my shadow, my fetus torn from my own belly.
Our separate heartbeats gradually synchronized, then finally matched. As I listened to that pulse, an indescribable emotion washed over me. I whispered.
“Do you remember? The glass puppet.”
I heard no answer and he didn’t nod, yet I somehow knew he had affirmed it. I suddenly laughed.
“Asking if you remember—how foolish of me. Of all people. Yes, back in Kotzboldt with Makgun and Grandfather, I first had that thought on the night Makgun came and gave me bread and taught me how to fish—wondering if a glass puppet remained at Jade Ring Castle far away, doing all the things I should do.”
There was no need for words like “perhaps” or “probably”—the other person understood perfectly. They even grasped the very thought that had crossed his mind that day. Joshua spoke his memory aloud exactly as it had been.
“When I eventually return to the Castle, will I need to determine which of us is the real one?”
This was that moment. Exactly eight years had passed, and that day had finally arrived for them.
“Perhaps there’s no need to prove it at all. If the other me finds happiness in their own way, and I find happiness in mine, isn’t that enough?”
The thought felt almost like a prophecy. Joshua smiled.
“When I returned to the Castle later, everything felt so strange I didn’t know what to do. That’s when I wondered—where was the glass doppelgänger hiding? Why wouldn’t it come out and do what it was supposed to do?”
The tears had stopped. As Joshua lowered his head, his chin rested against her hair. Her fingers slid across his hair. Joshua felt his heartbeat quicken again as he spoke.
“I’ll be the glass doppelgänger.”
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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