Limited Extra Time - Chapter 31

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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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The Doomed Extra’s Time

A Long Romance Fantasy Novel by Ja Eun-hyan

The Doomed Extra’s Time Chapter 31

He was fortunate enough to possess a miracle without succumbing to Art Sickness—a rare stroke of luck, though the probability was far from negligible, with roughly one in ten miracle-bearers falling victim to the affliction.

Periel Kalos did not particularly like Millaiyen Pestellio, but he trusted him.

He was not a man to speak carelessly, nor would he dispatch a messenger during such a critical period of subjugation preparations without pressing cause.

Therefore, assuming his judgment to be sound, the fault lay with the person seated before him.

The person sitting in front of him is the one who was wrong.

“That can’t be right.”

“I know my daughter’s condition better than anyone.”

Count Leopold’s jaw clenched as he stiffened his neck, overwhelmed by the mocking tone in the voice.

Periel Kalos swallowed a sigh as he gazed at the man’s nape, where the tendons stood out prominently.

“Then I’ll need to get to know you a bit better going forward. My friend lied…”

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“There’s no way I’d send a messenger.”

“I don’t understand why you’ve suddenly come here to say such things. To be honest, I find it quite rude and unpleasant.”

“Is that so?”

“If you’ve seen the painting, please leave right away. I hope you won’t come looking for me over something like this again.”

“Yes, I will. Besides, it doesn’t seem like there’s anything else to find out anyway.”

His voice carried an unbroken monotone of indifference.

The courtesy he had maintained moments before had been cast aside entirely; now he reclined against the sofa’s armrest with his chin propped lazily upon it, his gaze fixed downward upon the painting with an air of profound ennui.

Count Leopold’s fists clenched tightly.

Regardless of his superior rank, how dare he conduct himself with such flagrant disrespect!

“Still, I am grateful that you revealed the location where that child resides. I shall offer my thanks at a later time.”

“How amusing.”

His lips curved into a gentle arc of a smile.

It was the same smile as before, and yet for reasons I could not fathom, a chill ran down my spine.

I met his gaze without bothering to conceal my displeasure.

“What do you find amusing?”

“You refuse to believe my words regarding her affliction, yet you readily accept that she resides in the Northern Territory?”

“…What are you—”

“How convenient—ears that hear only what is pleasant and believe only what one wishes to believe.”

Periel Kalos moved his lips slowly, deliberately.

Truthfully, it required no great insight to discern his nature. He was the patriarch of a renowned Art House and a patron of artists throughout the realm.

Among those afflicted with the artistic malady, I had often witnessed those who concealed the nature of their condition from their families.

The reasons typically cited were either the absence of familial bonds or a lack of emotional attachment between them.

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Yet such circumstances were far from uncommon.

‘And yet… surely they would not conceal the art itself.’

The report described him as an unassuming, innocent sort of person—yet he proved to be far more fascinating than that.

Or perhaps he had been driven so far to the brink that he could not afford to reveal even that much.

Periel Kalos had observed countless people throughout his life.

Those raised under oppression rarely escape its grip, even as adults.

I could even begin to understand why Millaiyen took such interest in him.

He had always possessed that peculiar nature—unable to simply stand by and ignore anything small and fragile.

“Duke! How dare you!”

The moment Count Leopold rose from his seat with raised voice, the Head Butler entered with impeccable timing.

Periel Kalos’s expression brightened instantly at the sight of the papers overflowing from the butler’s arms.

He extended his hand and slowly received the bundle, then methodically sifted through it.

Most of them were merely sketches.

And there were quite a few blank pages as well. Works that manifest miracles typically vanish.

While melodies scatter and disperse, paintings often disappear without a trace—or the artwork itself is consumed by flame, which becomes the medium through which the miracle manifests.

‘…This is not good.’

The fact that the paper remained meant only its contents had been extracted.

If that were the case, there was only one possibility to consider.

A miracle of creation.

The most finicky, most potent variety of miracle—one whose outcome was predetermined, with a price beyond measure.

I clicked my tongue inwardly. Now I understood why Millaiyen had been in such haste.

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‘I’ve always had a good eye for these things.’

Perhaps I had detected the stench of death or some ill omen emanating from her.

Her request to come and see for myself was no idle plea.

Periel Kalos flipped through the papers swiftly, his eyes scanning the sketches before he set the stack down.

“In any case, the young lady appears to be in good health.”

“Yes.”

Periel Kalos’s eyes narrowed.

He crossed his arms and exhaled a long sigh before rising slowly from his seat.

“I apologize for the intrusion. I shall take my leave now.”

“Please do.”

Hostility dripped from the curt response.

Periel shrugged and turned away, his long silver hair swaying at his waist.

“Ah, if I had a child of my own, and someone told me my son or daughter had fallen ill, I believe I would have asked first where the pain was, how severe it was, and what the underlying cause might be.”

Periel Kalos spoke softly as he opened the door to the Reception Room.

Count Leopold’s eyes widened, his gaze blazing with intensity.

“From the moment you abandoned your home and wandered the entire realm searching for traces of her,

I suspect you were hardly in your right mind.”

Bewilderment tinged his voice.

“Carina is my child too! Even if I’ve been occupied with duties and unable to move about, that doesn’t mean I don’t worry about her! I care for my daughter sufficiently! How many times must I tell you this is disrespectful!”

“My, my.”

His tongue-clicking was sharp and dismissive.

Count Leopold barely suppressed the surge of

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curses rising from within.

“I simply cannot fathom why she would abandon a family so concerned for her welfare and run to a Fiancé with whom she shares no prior connection whatsoever.”

“Carina is still young. Children her age are all the same—ignorant of how the world works. It is merely youthful rebellion, nothing more. Perhaps this ordeal will teach her some sense….”

“Do you truly believe that?”

Periel Kalos cut him off with a fresh smile, yet mockery glimmered beneath it.

His disbelief was unmistakable. Witnessing it, Count Leopold’s expression twisted entirely.

“So it is the foolish young lady’s fault alone. Her failure to obey her parents’ wishes is merely the rebellion of an immature child.”

With those final words, Periel Kalos closed the Reception Room door silently and soon left Count Leopold’s Residence behind.

As he boarded his carriage, it set off once more toward the Duke’s Residence.

‘It may already be too late.’

Tsk—Periel Kalos clicked his tongue. The visit had yielded almost nothing; it was scarcely worth the time spent.

***

“You are Carina’s physician?”

“Yes, I am Winston. Your Grace.”

Despite Millaiyen’s suspicious gaze, Winston smiled with unshakeable composure and extended his hand.

Millaiyen’s eyes narrowed slightly before his gaze shifted to Carina.

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Carina Leopold grasped the meaning behind his gaze and nodded in immediate assent.

Only then did Millaiyen’s hand clasp Winston’s weathered one.

“Millaiyen Pestellio.”

Having received confirmation from Carina, he grasped her hand in return with surprising warmth, belying any hesitation.

Millaiyen offered his greeting. Winston smiled warmly once more.

Carina sat beside Millaiyen, fidgeting with her teacup in an awkward daze.

Winston’s gaze turned to Carina without hesitation after exchanging a few words with Millaiyen Pestellio.

“You seem to have many questions as well, and I have quite a few of my own. Please, ask first.”

“Mm.”

Carina stared at his smiling face, her lips parting uncertainly before she glanced sidelong at Millaiyen, gauging his reaction.

Millaiyen showed no sign of stepping back.

Winston was the one person who knew her current condition better than anyone.

For Carina, who was concealing the truth about her illness and seeking refuge here, his presence was deeply unsettling.

Carina carefully opened her mouth to speak to Winston.

“This place….”

Her voice emerged heavy, strained from having been held rigid for so long.

Her throat felt tight, constricted by the tension coiled within her.

Carina lifted her hand to her throat, swallowing hard as her neck trembled visibly with the effort.

“How did you know to come here?”

“I borrowed the power of miracles.”

“…Is it a miracle?”

“Even so, I’m quite skilled at embroidery.”

Winston rummaged through his bag and produced thread and needle, speaking in an even

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tone of voice.

Carina Leopold grasped his meaning without difficulty.

“My goodness…”

A soft laugh escaped Winston at her exclamation, which sounded almost like a cry of disbelief.

“When I was young, I was confident enough to help the Security Force track down vicious criminals and escaped prisoners.”

“The past tense suggests you’ve contracted the Art House affliction yourself?”

Millaiyen asked.

Before answering, Winston glanced subtly at Carina Leopold.

When Carina Leopold, seated beside him, gave a small shake of her head, Winston understood and nodded gently with a soft smile.

“Yes, that’s correct. It was the unfortunate variety.”

Winston’s voice rang out gently. There was no condescension in his seasoned tone, nor any attempt at flattery.

Millaiyen’s gaze fixed on Winston with keen interest.

“Not only did I contract the Art House affliction—which strikes roughly one in ten—but the affliction manifested in my eyes.”

“Your eyes?”

Millaiyen leaned forward slowly, inquiring further.

“I gradually lost my sight. If God exists, it was a cruel act indeed. For one who practices embroidery, the eyes are as vital as life itself.”

Winston’s eyes grew unfocused and hazy, as though dredging up some faded memory from the depths of his mind.

Carina lowered her gaze to the hand resting upon Winston’s thigh.

Thick calluses had settled firmly at the tips of his weathered fingers.

The needle lying on the table bore the patina of long use, its eye for threading crude and

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nearly black.

The needle’s tip was sharp, honed by his own hand, yet its length was somewhat blunt and shorter than an ordinary needle.

“…You’ve lost your sight?”

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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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