Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 572

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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 24.
The Noble Daughter and the Detective (24)
But regardless of such realizations, Maximian’s capable tongue showed no signs of stopping.
“I meet you for the first time today, don’t even know your name, yet you’re worrying about my professional competence, expected revenue, and the possibility of bankruptcy—tears of gratitude are welling up. Even if you were humanity’s last client, why is it so hard to understand that if I want to just collapse and sleep right now, that’s what I’ll do?”
Espin flinched slightly as well. Her new assessment hadn’t been perfect either. In other words, the two of them were similar in at least one respect: neither had ever been pushed around by mere words.
“Why are you trying so hard to avoid me? Are you holding a grudge because you couldn’t finish your drink?”
“Yeah, that’s right—when alcohol runs low, words don’t reach my ears. So why would you bring some serious commission to someone like that? Give up and go ask somewhere else. Got it?”
Maximian turned his body and began trudging up the Slope Path. Espin, left behind, stood dumbfounded with her mouth agape, then glared at empty air, and finally shouted.
“Hey! How is it that you show the bare minimum sincerity toward your own profession? If you’re going to do it like that, why not just close the door altogether?”
An answer drifted back from a distance.
“Yeah, since I’m incredibly unpopular, there are no unsolved cases and no unpaid service fees, so even if I close up at 7 PM tonight, there’s absolutely no damage whatsoever.”
Maximian really did leave.
Evening mealtime was drawing near. Most Nenyaple students had either returned to the Academy or were hurrying to do so. Standing alone at the now-quiet Crossroads, Espin glared at Maximian’s receding back before cursing under her breath.
“Damn it, this infuriatingly fascinating alcoholic. Are you even a real detective? Did you think I came to you expecting some sort of genius deduction?”
Maximian certainly didn’t think so. He was, after all, merely a leisurely part-time detective earning a bit of drinking money. He possessed not the slightest sense of professional duty—the kind that helps people in distress out of some grand sense of mission or derives self-satisfaction from elegantly solving complex problems. So what was wrong with only meeting clients when it suited him? Especially since his principle was to refuse anyone who bothered him while he was drinking.
That principle had only been established this afternoon, but since he hadn’t posted a customer consultation charter in his office, it didn’t matter. Above all, the commission Espin was trying to propose almost certainly had something to do with the “burning monkey” that had emerged from the lamp earlier. Such problems should be directed to The Mage, not someone like me. It was surely because of that business about being a full-scholarship student at the Magic School, wasn’t it? If so, what else was there to do but convince her to give up quickly?
There were reasonably sound reasons for refusing Espin’s commission without even hearing it, but explaining felt tedious. In any case, the conclusion that this wasn’t a problem he could solve remained the same, so it didn’t matter.
While Maximian receded into the distance, Espin stood lost in thought. She admitted that she had completely failed to predict what kind of person he was. But there were limits to the range of prediction. Wasn’t it fundamentally impossible to infer that appearance from the information that he was a student at the prestigious Magic School Nenyaple, studying on a full scholarship, and had gained considerable reputation as a part-time detective?
Now what was she to do?
Should she coax him gently, resort to force, apply indirect pressure, or rebuild goodwill? She tried to weigh several options with cold calculation, but honestly, the thought that occupied her mind most was the desire to dig a square hole in front of the Academy’s main gate, bury that bastard in it, and inscribe on his tombstone: “Will rise again this time next year.”
But then the whereabouts of the item she sought would remain a complete mystery.
In the end, Espin bit her lip and ran after Maximian. Since the path leading up to the Academy was a single route, it wasn’t difficult to catch up.
“Hey, hey, Senior Maximian! Fine, I get it. I’m annoying, right? I’ll disappear now. But before I do, just answer me one thing. Do you know the name Mulberry Pike, or not? Did you forget? You definitely know it, don’t you?”
Maximian continued walking without responding. He never kept records to begin with, and he readily forgot names once business was concluded—even if they belonged to clients. His philosophy was that one must distinguish between information worth remembering and information that wasn’t, lest one forget what truly mattered.
But this case was different. When Espin suddenly rushed forward and blocked his path, Maximian stopped with a frown, and then found himself saying this:
“A funny name like that? I’d remember it even if I’d sat next to someone for only five minutes in a shared carriage.”
She had finally drawn out an answer. Espin quickly continued.
“Then you’d remember what Mulberry was looking for too?”
“That thing… a small, pretty pistol that looked like something a Puppet would use?”
It was Maximian’s mistake to answer a second question after agreeing to answer only one. Espin’s eyes sharpened for a moment, but in the next instant they softened, and she continued calmly.
“Right. You found it, didn’t you? You have it now?”
An unscheduled third question. Maximian looked at Espin expressionlessly. Then Espin smiled sweetly, reverting to the cute junior she’d been when they first met. Maximian’s impression was merely: ‘She really does have a changeable face.’
“Why are you asking that?”
“Because it’s mine.”
Ah, so? Maximian shrugged and clicked his tongue a few times.
“Too bad. It’s broken.”
What happened next was something even Maximian hadn’t anticipated.
Thwack!
Espin’s right foot swept at the inside of Maximian’s knee. His leg went numb, he lost his balance, and he tumbled straight onto the dirt ground. Being on a slope contributed to his fall, and since he’d never imagined this would happen, his response was pathetic—but Espin’s kick was no ordinary blow. She had executed it with the intent to subdue, striking with precision.
It didn’t end there. With a sharp whistle, a blade suddenly drew close beneath Maximian’s chin.
“….”
Maximian still hadn’t managed to prop himself upright. He was barely supporting himself on his elbows. Espin extended a short single-handed blade, aiming it with precision. The moment she drew her weapon, her eyes transformed—a killing intent so palpable that even ordinary people would flinch at a mere glance.
Maximian lowered his gaze to the blade’s tip. It hovered mere finger-widths beneath his chin, unwavering. Now that he thought about it, the speed at which she’d drawn the sword had been beyond imagination.
“You can do this to a senior?”
Maximian’s voice had grown somewhat quieter, though it didn’t waver. He was the sort who’d weathered far more than appearances suggested.
“You said you weren’t one yet, didn’t you?”
Espin’s tone remained measured—evidence of a calculated response rather than an emotional one.
“What do you want?”
“The truth, not jokes.”
“If something’s destroyed, will you glue it back together?”
“I know it couldn’t possibly be destroyed. So where is it?”
Maximian paused before responding.
“I can’t tell you that. Because….”
“Because they demanded secrecy from you?”
Maximian shook his head, then lifted one corner of his mouth into a smirk.
“Nothing like that. Want to know? Hire me.”
Espin’s brow flickered for an instant—a reaction beyond her expectations. Maximian then raised his eyebrows and gestured downward with his eyes.
“Lower that a bit, would you? I’ll get a hole through my jaw if we keep talking like this.”
The blade was sheathed in an instant, as swiftly as it had been drawn. Espin slid it home with instinctive precision before speaking.
“Fine.”
It seemed surprisingly easy to make her stand down, but with that level of skill, she could subdue him again whenever she pleased. Yet Maximian showed no panic. He’d encountered terrifyingly powerful individuals before and had learned to accept his limitations quickly, pivoting to the next strategy. Defeat never wounded his pride—why would it, when he didn’t fancy himself the world’s strongest? The world held all manner of people, and what mattered to Maximian was whether he could communicate with his opponent.
Maximian slowly pushed himself upright, then instead of standing, simply settled onto the dirt ground. From that position, he looked up at Espin and spoke.
“So you’ll hire me? Excellent. Of course, no advance payment means no information. Fair warning—I’ll charge handsomely. Including compensation for the fall.”
“Would a year’s tuition at Nenyaple suffice?”
Maximian’s ears nearly deceived him.
“A year’s tuition? Do you know how much that is?”
“Didn’t I mention I’m enrolling next year? Well? Is that enough?”
Maximian sat cross-legged and spread both hands wide.
“Of course it is. That’s enormous. It’s double a scholarship, but do I have to go back to school next year by force? Though I suppose what I do with it is my business. So where’s the money?”
“I don’t have it right now.”
Maximian burst into laughter. But Espin didn’t laugh; instead, she narrowed her eyes slightly and continued.
“I’ll give it to you tomorrow. Then I should start the work tomorrow too, right? I understand that much. Should’ve done this from the start instead of wasting time talking. Didn’t realize you were the type who responds faster to steel than words.”
Frustration accumulated over time suddenly spilled out as curses, but Maximian took it in stride, chuckling before responding.
“No, you’ve got it wrong again. You just need to offer more money.”
“Is that so?”
Espin’s eyes narrowed further as she spoke.
“Even more trustworthy then. I happen to have plenty of money. Let’s meet tomorrow at three in the afternoon, in front of that Tavern from earlier.”
She flicked something with her fingertip, and it flew toward him. Maximian caught it—a gleaming goblin gold coin, brand new and polished. As he slipped it onto his index finger, Espin spoke.
“You like money, so you should take an advance payment.”
“My, such thoughtful consideration. You’re truly the finest client.”

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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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