Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 522

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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 292.
Beneath the Almond Tree (35)
“You were clapping just a moment ago, and now you’re having second thoughts?”
Lucian shook his head as if it didn’t matter.
“Well, it’s open now anyway. A door or two—what’s the harm?”
Boris, who had returned, asked Lucian a question.
“Is there a Blacksmith’s Shop inside the Academy?”
“Yeah, I saw it yesterday.”
Around that time, about a dozen students from neighboring villas and those passing through the corridor gathered to peer into their villa.
“Wow, what’s going on here? The door’s been completely torn off?”
Lucian pointed at the detached door panel.
“See that thing stuck on the doorknob? That’s why the door wouldn’t open.”
A few of them examined the jelly on the doorknob. But since it appeared to be nothing special at first glance, they spoke in bewilderment.
“They tore the door off because of that? Isn’t the freshman being a bit too bold?”
“If the door won’t open, shouldn’t you just go see the floor representative?”
“Or call the maintenance staff.”
Maximian, who had gone into the living room, came shuffling back out and spoke.
“Quiet. If any of you can remove that jelly from the doorknob, I’ll give you one Elso gold coin.”
Lucian looked at Maximian.
“Wow, you must be loaded.”
Maximian cleared his throat awkwardly and spoke in a low voice.
“Why would I need money? It’s obvious you can’t remove it.”
Lucian rushed out into the corridor, wondering if they might actually succeed. The students, tempted by the mention of a gold coin, each grabbed the doorknob and shook it, but of course, none of them managed to peel off even a single piece of jelly. Boris, standing at the entrance, spoke to Lucian.
“Stay here and watch the room. I’ll go to the Blacksmith’s Shop.”
“Got it!”
Maximian watched Boris’s retreating figure as he strode away, then turned back to Lucian.
“What’s he planning to do at the Blacksmith’s Shop? Is he going to become a blacksmith himself?”
Lucian chuckled and replied.
“Yeah, he’s a Blacksmith.”
In the afternoon class that began after lunch, Maximian encountered Joshua again. It was by the brightly lit window seat. Maximian found himself hesitating without realizing it. Then Joshua, noticing Maximian, waved his hand.
“Why are you staring at me like that?”
Maximian glared at Joshua for a long moment, then suddenly kicked at his feet. Joshua quickly dodged and asked.
“What’s wrong? Did I do something?”
“Pay attention in class.”
Joshua’s expression became flustered, and then he burst into laughter.
“Makgun is telling me to pay attention in class? This is actually pretty refreshing.”
“Be quiet.”
Maximian sat down in his chair, but a moment later spoke in a low voice.
“He came. This morning.”
“Ah.”
Joshua sat down beside him and fell into thought. Maximian spoke.
“It’s problematic if someone claims to have encountered him in different places.”
“Right. He didn’t tell me about it. Since I left early for the Vineyard, he probably thought no one would see him if he slipped out briefly and came back in.”
“How can you be so careless about this? You need to tell him clearly.”
Joshua stared at Maximian’s face.
“You know as well as I do. It’s not easy to say such things. Do you think he wants to be locked away in his chamber?”
“I don’t care. What does it have to do with me? Is it my fault that things turned out this way from the start? No, it’s not. So I don’t need to worry about his circumstances.”
Maximian spoke with clipped syllables, then turned his body away and gazed out the window. Joshua didn’t understand why Maximian was so angry, but the Professor entered and they could say nothing more.
It was a Classical Poetry lecture. Throughout the entire class, Joshua was lost in thought and barely heard the lesson. Maximian, sitting beside him, also showed no signs of concentration. Yet neither of them spoke a word.
It was someone else who broke the silence.
“Hey, Maximian, do you know what that is?”
Lucian, sitting at a desk across the aisle, gestured and called out while the Professor’s back was turned. Maximian answered without even looking at what Lucian was asking about.
“No idea. Why don’t you ask your desk partner?”
“That’s impossible.”
Looking across, Boris sat beside Lucian, sleeping with practiced skill. His posture—body rigid, head bowed slightly—made it look to the Professor as though he were concentrating intently on his book. He’d apparently spent the lunch period at the Blacksmith’s Shop and had come straight from hammering.
“Look over there.”
Lucian was persistent. Eventually, Maximian looked at the problem on the blackboard that Lucian was pointing to. But all he did was tilt his head and yawn.
“Late Lugran poetry? If I knew things like that, would I be sitting here?”
“The Professor wouldn’t ask a question we’re supposed to know, would he?”
“No. Professors only ask questions they think we won’t know.”
“Why?”
“So they can squeeze our brains.”
At that moment, someone actually squeezed Maximian’s head.
“You seem to know well, nameless student with glasses. Then how about the daydreaming student next to you stand up and give me an answer? Try inserting a word to continue the poem I started writing on the board.”
Joshua had still not heard the Professor’s words and was gazing blankly out the window. Maximian, unable to bear it, nudged him with his elbow.
“Hey.”
Joshua slowly looked at Maximian’s face, then the Professor’s face, then the blackboard. Then he stood up.
“White grapes, so verdant here, in the coming summer, follow after you, when you pull the door.”
The Professor’s eyes widened. Every student’s gaze turned toward Joshua. He continued without hesitation.
“Scattering fragrance, sweeping through, jade-hued and green, summer’s Vineyard, the Courtyard of knowledge.”
Joshua’s and the Professor’s eyes met. Joshua asked.
“Should I continue?”
Joshua had not heard the Professor’s question. He had simply done what seemed necessary by looking at the blackboard. Asked to insert one word, he had instead completed the entire poem. The Professor, struggling to hide his bewilderment, spoke.
“Well done. Have you studied poetry before?”
Joshua suddenly recalled his time at Mona Sid and smiled softly.
“It seems I have.”
After the Professor turned away, Lucian poked Maximian again.
“Is he your friend? Wow, impressive. He just composed a poem!”
Maximian looked down irritably.
“He’s always like that. Don’t mind him.”
When class ended, Lucian woke Boris and attempted to seek out Maximian’s mysterious poet friend, but the young man had already vanished without a trace. Yet fate decreed they would meet again soon enough.
After afternoon classes and dinner concluded, night fell and Maximian returned to his chamber, attempting to gently push open the door that Boris had fitted with a new lock. But before he could, something peculiar caught his eye.
“Hm?”
The brass nameplate that should have adorned the door had disappeared entirely. He couldn’t recall when it had vanished. Such things typically only became noticeable once they were already gone.
Wondering if Boris had dislodged it when removing the door, he glanced around, but it remained nowhere to be found. Dismissing it with a thought—what did such a trifle matter?—Maximian pushed the door open and stepped inside, only to freeze abruptly at the threshold.
The entire chamber was covered in jelly.
“This… this… what in the—”
Once the shock subsided, Maximian reached out and touched a blob of jelly clinging to the wall. A single touch was enough to confirm it was identical to the substance that had coated the door handle. Tables, drawers, carpets, bedsheets, chair legs, window frames—the jelly clung stubbornly to everything, immovable. One chair leg had been inadvertently locked in place, and the drawers were effectively sealed. He couldn’t decide whether to be grateful it wasn’t sticky or if that made matters worse. His mind reeled.
“What in blazes is all this?”
Turning around, Lucian and Boris stood in the doorway. Maximian spread his hands and shrugged helplessly.
“This is what I found when I arrived. What could this possibly be?”
The two boys entered and examined the jelly, attempting to pry it loose. But Boris only managed to tear a hole in the bedsheet. Lucian gave up and collapsed into a chair that had been fixed in place by the jelly. “We should ask someone about this. Perhaps the Professors?”
“We should ask someone about this. Perhaps the Professors?”
“Isn’t it far too late for that?”
As the two exchanged words, Boris posed a question.
“Maximian, how was the door when you arrived?”
“It was properly locked. I opened it myself with the key you gave me today.”
Maximian’s brow furrowed as realization dawned.
“Right. You made that key today, so only we have it, don’t we? The caretaker and floor monitor wouldn’t have one either. So how did this jelly perpetrator even get inside?”
Lucian interjected.
“They didn’t steal the jelly, so they’re not a jelly thief.”
“Then should we call them a jelly donor?”
At that, Lucian burst into giggles.
“Maximian, you’re hilarious.”
“…”
Maximian chose to ignore Lucian and turned to Boris.
“What do you make of this? The windows are locked too. Whoever did this—how did they even manage to get inside and plaster jelly everywhere?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea.”
Of course, Boris had no satisfactory answer either. The three deliberated on whom to consult about the matter but concluded they had no choice but to wait until morning. That night, sleep came without major difficulty. Only Boris, whose bedsheet bore a jelly stain in its center, pushed the sheet aside and slept with it bunched at his feet.
The real problem erupted the following morning.
“Good heavens, this is—”
The sight of the three boys in the common room was a spectacle. Maximian had sticky jam—or paste, or whatever it was—matted into his hair and across his shoulders; Lucian had it coating his arms and sides; Boris had it clinging to his feet and knees. The jelly that had been so unyielding the night before, resistant even to sharp implements, had somehow melted overnight, transforming the entire chamber into a sea of jam.
“What am I supposed to do? This is absolutely infuriating—”
Lucian was nearly in tears. No amount of pulling, wiping, or water could remove it, and at this rate he’d have to venture out wearing his uniform over the sticky residue. Maximian abandoned his hair and hastily pulled his school shirt over his jam-covered arms. “I don’t know. Blast it all. I’m starving.”
“I don’t know. Blast it all. I’m starving.”
Boris, peeling his feet free from the carpet, didn’t appear particularly pleased either. Yet he changed his clothes in silence.
When the three finally left the chamber, their appearance drew stares from the moment they entered the corridor. There was Maximian, arrogantly tilting his chin upward despite the clumps of jam matted in his hair; Lucian, his expression pained as he repeatedly tried to separate his arm from his side; and Boris, struggling valiantly to avoid dragging the hallway carpet along with him. By the time they reached the Lecture Hall, word of this spectacle had spread throughout the entire first-year class and even reached some of the upper years.
“It must be incredibly sticky. If you get caught in it, you’re done for.”
“They say it smells like lemon jam.”
“Couldn’t you just lick it off?”
“Those guys would never have to worry about lunch as long as they had bread.”
As the other students gradually kept their distance, we had no choice but to huddle together as one group. I was sitting there with a frown, my chin propped in my hand, when Joshua appeared in the Lecture Hall and approached with wide, surprised eyes.
Children of Rune – Winterer
Author: Jeon Min-hee
Published by: 14 Months Publishing
The copyright to 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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