Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 580

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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 32.
The Princess and the Detective (32)
Damn it, that settles it. It’s not about whether others believe me or not.
As Maximian hastily abandoned his first plan, I heard another female student’s voice responding.
“Right? Marisa, if you’re going anyway, come with me next month. We just need to tough it out for two more months. Things are supposed to be quieter now.”
“Hey, don’t be so sure. Honestly, it’s all unpredictable. It could be quiet today and then swarm with them tomorrow. What the professors say about that place is about as useful as weather forecasts.”
“But do you think we know better than the professors? It’s easier on the mind if you just assume nobody knows anything.”
“Easier on the mind? Elze, this is a matter of life and death, you know? There’s a small chance, but there’s definitely a chance of dying—Professor Leomentiis said so herself. She said there have definitely been three people who went there and never came back.”
“So you’re not going and staying for two more semesters instead?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. That’s a guaranteed way to die.”
Marisa and Elze were wrestling with a dilemma remarkably similar to mine. I’d been trying to escape because staying at Nenyaple any longer would roll me up like cinnamon, but then someone showed up with an even more certain way to die. And now I had to choose between the two. What was I supposed to do?
From what I could recall, both of them were Nenyaple students, but they were graduate students. Entering the graduate program meant they’d made the extraordinary decision to stay at the school even after passing that hellish graduation exam—they were genuine prodigies.
I was very curious what would happen if I got into a Villa War with such people, but I also didn’t want to know.
And the graduate students’ dormitory was in a completely different building from the regular student dormitory. For a Grand Mage who’d graduated from this school to send me here of all places…
Just then, through the window, the zombie horde of Nenyaple—which supposedly only appeared on certain nights in November—passed by, letting out a sound that was neither a shriek nor a wail. Elze muttered self-deprecatingly.
“Ever since I passed the graduation exam, I never thought I’d envy their situation.”
“No, I don’t envy them. Compared to them, I know at least one more spell. In other words, my chances of dying there are slightly lower.”
“What are you talking about? They don’t have any reason to go to the Keep.”
“Don’t be so sure. The fact that we got sent there in the first place shouldn’t have happened. If the personnel shortage continues, do you think they’ll be safe?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Why would they commit genocide? Send innocent kids like that into a place that’s already crawling with mad spirits? The professors wouldn’t do something that insane.”
As I listened, my unease grew. The Keep? Could it be… that place those two were talking about was where I’d just been dragged by Juspian? Juspian had mentioned building a new graduate dormitory there, even if it was a failed metaphor. What did that even mean?
“Anyway, since we’ve decided to go, I can throw away that herbology thesis now, right? Ugh, I’ve hated the sight of it ever since I lost the manuscript. I’m going to toss it all in the fireplace.”
I heard Marisa getting up. Then her footsteps drew closer to where I was hiding.
No! Go away!
Maximian panicked and looked for another hiding spot, but there was only a wall behind me—no mouse hole or anything like that. And only then did I realize that I wasn’t hiding behind a piano at all, but under a desk. Marisa had simply thrown a blanket over the desk because she hated the sight of the thesis she’d been working on. There was no way she wouldn’t spot me under the desk once she removed the blanket and took the thesis, right?
Damn it, I’d be lucky if I could pass for a brown mouse.
For a whole year, I’d fearlessly ignored my magical studies without worrying about exams, failing grades, or being held back. But now I regretted neglecting my studies. I knew about spells like invisibility, teleportation, vision manipulation, mind control. I knew about them. I just only knew about them.
If Tichiel heard this, her eyes would go wide, but in this moment I made a decision. If I escaped without being discovered, I would absolutely learn at least one of these spells. Even if it took a hundred hours of foundational study, I’d learn one.
Of course, that was only if I escaped without being caught…
That’s when the door suddenly burst open and another voice rang out.
“Marisa, Elze! What are you doing in your room on a night like this? Professor Hoiock announced that tonight all of Nenyaple’s zombie horde should gather at the basement of Des Davin Hall! Remember when we found that grape that had been preserved from 130 years ago last time? He’s opening the wine barrel that was made from it!”
“What? Is it safe to drink?”
“Don’t worry. Professor Hoiock will taste it first. Would he pass up such an opportunity? If it tastes like vomit, he’d open a new barrel as compensation and then some. I hope it’s from Belcruze.”
After a few more words, I heard the door close.
I waited a bit longer. But I heard no more voices or footsteps. Had they both left? Really?
I felt relieved, but honestly, it was absurd. The salvation that arrived at such a perfect moment felt slightly suspicious. Could that student from earlier—Juspian—have sent them? Did he notice the resolution I’d just made? Could everything that’s happened here be part of some massive conspiracy by Juspian?
So… I’d have to start with a hundred hours of foundational study now, was that it?
Regardless of how Maximian sensed my thoughts, everything felt too convenient, leaving me with a bitter taste. Even as I thought this, the room remained quiet. I decided they’d both left, then carefully lifted the blanket to peek outside. Indeed, no one was there. Being careful not to let the blanket slip, I crawled out. Then I quickly moved toward the window instead of the door. I opened it slightly and looked down, or tried to, but the ground was right at my nose. In other words, this was a semi-basement room.
Perfect for an escape.
I easily climbed over the windowsill and slipped into the flower bed. I quietly closed the window behind me. Once I reached the campus, all of Nenyaple’s zombie horde had apparently gathered at Des Davin Hall, so everything around me was quiet.
Crossing the empty campus, Maximian deliberated with himself. In other words, he’d struck a dramatic compromise with his own conscience. One hundred hours of foundational study seemed excessively ambitious, didn’t it? Among the ideas he’d considered earlier, he’d settle for the simplest one—learning only the implementation without the theory. A spell duration of roughly forty seconds should suffice, right? That’s approximately how long it took to crawl out from under the desk and through the window.
Magic learned without foundations through implementation alone appeared superficially similar when cast, but its duration was disappointingly brief. Moreover, botched implementations occurred frequently. Yet having already escaped, Maximian convinced himself that even this represented a sufficiently conscientious decision, and he ascended toward the North Tower Dormitory with a light heart.
Upon arriving at Acorn Villa, Maximian paused before opening the door. Something about what Juspian had mentioned in the desert seemed significant—this business about a new dormitory—but how was he supposed to interpret that?
However, having inadvertently fallen into the graduate student villa and nearly triggered a record-breaking Villa War before escaping that catastrophic incident, it all felt like an unimportant footnote. Hadn’t the Headmaster mentioned making some proposal? Ah, whatever it was, they’d probably handle it themselves.
Maximian took a deep breath and opened the door. He didn’t plummet into the desert again. The sight of the comfortably disheveled villa he’d so desperately longed to return to flooded him with relief. In his absence, his roommates had either retired for the night or attended Professor Hoiock’s insane wine party—the living room stood empty. The villa was quiet; Maximian headed straight to his chamber and collapsed into peaceful slumber.
Unaware of the upheaval that would begin the next day.
6. The Tribulations of Acorn Villa’s Door
The next morning arrived.
Maximian wasn’t the type to wake simply because daylight broke. Yet that day, neither he nor any other student in the entire school were. Only three students appeared in the Dining Hall that morning.
The first was Nenyaple’s angel, Tichiel Justpian. She ascended the staircase with a small spell notebook bearing a blue cover tucked under one arm, her appearance neat as though nothing had transpired the previous day.
The nickname “angel” suited Tichiel perfectly—she possessed exceptional talent, diligence, and during exam periods, a heavenly kindness that led her to spend three hours reviewing others’ assignments. Yet those who’d known her longer understood the truth. There was far more to her than that.
Tichiel wasn’t alone in this regard. Among Nenyaple’s second-year students who’d enrolled in 992, there were four known as the “Four Great Mysteries,” including Tichiel herself. All four were famous for being one hundred eighty degrees different from their first impressions. The greatest reversal among them was Maximian—who, when properly dressed in his uniform and keeping his mouth shut, appeared coldly brilliant and sharp.
Tichiel, with her lovely platinum hair and gentle smile, seemed as though she’d be kind and innocent, yet she wasn’t. Her preference for white one-piece dresses suggested she’d be neat and careful, yet that wasn’t the case either. Truth be told, she didn’t even give the impression of ranking first at Nenyaple, where geniuses engaged in blood-drenched competition.
Seven appliqués were sewn onto Tichiel’s apron. The number of appliqués revealed how her recent experiments were progressing. Having burned through seven patches of her apron, whatever she was attempting had clearly hit a wall. Yet Tichiel showed no sign of frustration. She loved difficult challenges. The harder they became, the more she unleashed increasingly destructive power. It had always been this way since she first learned magic at five years old.
That morning, as Tichiel entered the Dining Hall and saw it completely empty, she started in surprise and murmured softly.
“Oh my, is everyone all right?”
She then encountered a Workshop Employee who complained at length about having to clean up the appalling garbage from the previous night, after which she received her breakfast. Three pancakes with blueberry jam, an apple, an orange, grapes, a tomato, and a glass of milk.
Despite her slender frame, Tichiel ate a remarkably large amount. Though fruits comprised the majority, her consumption rivaled that of a warrior wielding a sword all day long. The thought “Where does all that food go?” would be dispelled after merely four days of observing Tichiel.

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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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