Will You Cry for Me If I Die? - Chapter 52
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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 52
He didn’t even move his head.
Only the direction of his hands changed.
He gently lifted my body and moved me next to the curtain.
This time it wasn’t being held, but rather being carried.
My body floated in the air for a moment before quietly coming down.
I was glad because I could breathe better.
My chest wasn’t being pressed.
Lermiel folded his cloak and stood in front of the curtain, naturally turning his body.
The movement was smooth.
As if pretending to check the window.
His gaze turned toward the outside.
Yurahel pressed closer behind the curtain.
His back touched the fabric.
The flower scent clung to our faces.
The sweet smell filled the inside of our noses.
I hated that fragrance.
Sweet scents make you feel relaxed.
When you relax, you become dull.
Your thoughts slow down.
But right now it was necessary.
We had to cover it up.
Someone appeared from the end of the corner.
The tips of their feet were visible first.
The hem of a black coat brushed the floor.
It was a priest.
It wasn’t white clothing.
A black coat.
It was a color that swallowed light.
However, a small silver holy symbol hanging around his neck glinted.
The light flickered slightly.
That holy symbol smelled of water.
The smell of mark water.
A cold, wet smell.
The tip of my nose stung.
The priest looked around.
His eyes moved slowly.
“The wind has closed.”
He said.
He seemed to be talking about the window being closed.
He took one step, two steps, three steps.
His steps were steady.
The sound of touching the floor was steady.
He walked slowly.
I counted in my mind.
One, two, three.
At three, he stops.
He always did.
But he walked to four.
One more.
One step more than expected.
Where he stopped was right in front of our curtain.
There was almost no distance.
It was the difference of one piece of fabric.
I stopped breathing.
My chest froze in place.
My palms became damp.
Sweat formed immediately.
Four-year-old palms get wet right away when scared.
The priest reached his hand toward the curtain.
His fingers approached the fabric.
His fingertips glowed white.
The light spread very thinly.
That light was the light of holy power.
Light that looked warm.
But to me it was cold.
At the Research Institute, holy power was a blade.
It was light that cut through blood.
I reflexively tried to step back.
My body tried to move first.
But behind the curtain was a wall.
A hard blockage.
There was nowhere to run.
Demian’s hand pressed down on my shoulder.
Weight was applied.
Don’t move.
There were no words, but I understood.
I gritted my teeth.
I’m good at enduring.
Even if the inside of my mouth gets hot, even if my breath catches in my throat, I don’t let it out.
That was what I was best at in the Research Institute.
Whenever tears welled up, if I didn’t make a sound, I got hit less.
If I held my breath, I could endure longer.
So I know how to endure with my body.
Just before the priest’s fingertips touched the curtain, Lermiel stepped forward.
His foot quietly touched the floor.
The hem of his cloak brushed very lightly.
He blocked the front of the curtain and spoke.
His body precisely blocked between the curtain and the priest.
“What is your reason for coming here at night?”
His voice was low but didn’t waver.
The priest stopped.
His fingertips stopped in mid-air.
His eyes scanned Lermiel up and down.
His pupils slowly went down and came back up.
“Amaransa.”
The priest said in a low voice.
The way he called the name was soft but cold.
At those words, Lermiel’s shoulders stiffened very slightly.
His breath cut short once.
The priest continued speaking.
“You are a shadow of the royal house, so do not block my path.”
Though his words ended softly, the inside was sharp.
Lermiel answered quietly.
He didn’t avoid eye contact.
“I am currently a guest of Ikaros.”
The priest laughed.
The corner of his mouth twisted.
“Guest.”
That laugh felt unpleasant.
On the surface it seemed light, but the inside wasn’t empty.
The priest took a step to the side of Lermiel.
The movement was slow but certain.
His attitude was that if blocked, he could just go around.
The curtain came back into view.
The thin fabric was placed before the priest’s gaze.
I thought to myself.
‘Lermiel can’t block him for long.’
Lermiel is hurt.
Hurt people can’t endure for long.
Their breathing gives out first.
I hated knowing that.
I don’t want to know, but my body knows.
So I moved.
Before my thoughts could finish, my body went out first.
My body is small because I’m four years old, so I can quickly crawl out from inside the curtain.
Adults don’t notice easily.
I lowered my body under the curtain.
The fabric brushed over my head.
My knees touched the stone floor.
It was cold.
The cold sensation came up immediately.
When it’s cold, it makes noise.
Friction feels louder.
I crawled slowly.
I pressed my palms to the floor and lifted them.
I hated the feeling of my wet palms sticking to the floor.
Each time I lifted them, a faint sound was made.
Still, I endured and moved.
Slowly, so as not to make more noise.
I went to the water jar next to the curtain.
A round jar was placed low.
The surface reflected the darkness slightly.
A small decorative cloth hung next to the jar.
It was lightly draped fabric.
I pulled on that cloth.
The fabric wrapped around my fingers.
The cloth made a sound as it rubbed.
Rustle.
It was a small sound, but it sounds loud at night.
The quieter it is, the louder it spreads.
The priest turned his head.
His eyes turned directly this way.
“Who’s there.”
I froze for a moment.
My body stiffened as it was.
My breathing stopped.
I thought Demian might move, but he didn’t move.
I knew not moving was right.
The priest’s gaze turned toward the jar.
It came down exactly toward where I was.
I hid my body behind the jar.
I pressed my body against the round surface.
I held my breath.
When you hold your breath, your eyes hurt.
The inside of your eyes becomes stiff.
I endured with my eyes wide open.
It’s scarier if you close your eyes.
The priest took a step closer.
The footsteps stopped right in front.
He looked down at the jar.
His gaze came down from above.
The flower scent became stronger.
The fragrance filled the air.
Within that scent, the smell of mark water became thicker.
It stood out separately without mixing.
The priest muttered.
His lips barely moved.
“The smell has been covered.”
He raised his hand and grabbed the flower branch from the jar to pull it out.
The stem was pulled out at once.
The flower branch came out with a thud.
A light sound fell downward.
There was no water.
The bottom remained dry.
The priest frowned.
The space between his eyebrows narrowed.
At that moment, I reached out and struck the bottom of the jar.
I gathered my strength and struck it at once.
Thump.
The small jar shook and rolled away on the floor.
The round bottom moved as if sliding.
The jar made a louder sound as it rolled.
Rumble rumble.
The sound spread along the corridor.
The priest instinctively turned his body toward the jar.
His gaze followed the sound.
I jumped out from behind the jar in that gap.
I pushed forward with my body lowered.
My legs are short, so even jumping out
I can’t go far all at once.
But my purpose wasn’t to escape, it was to change direction.
I ran toward the opposite side, toward the shadows at the end of the corridor.
I pushed my body into the side where light didn’t reach.
My feet quickly hit the floor.
My short legs moved rapidly.
I got out of breath while running.
My chest rose quickly.
When I get out of breath, tears come up.
My throat gets hot, and my eyes get wet.
I swallowed my tears and spoke.
The inside of my throat hurt.
“This way!”
Demian moved immediately.
There was no hesitation.
He grabbed Yurahel as if embracing him and turned him in another direction.
He twisted his body half a turn.
Yurahel’s feet dragged on the floor.
Lermiel followed behind too.
His cloak followed from behind.
The priest, drawn by the sound of the jar, moved one beat late.
That one beat saved us.
The short gap felt long.
We ran to another door at the end of the corridor.
The door got closer and closer.
The handle came into view.
The door was locked.
The handle wouldn’t turn.
My heart sank.
Locked.
Blocked.
The doors of the Research Institute came to mind.
Doors that closed, locked, and wouldn’t open.
My hands trembled.
My fingertips shook on their own.
Demian grabbed the door handle and spread frost.
Cold energy covered the handle.
The metal made a cracking sound.
It was the sound of thin splitting.
The lock froze solid.
The surface turned white.
Demian twisted the handle.
Force went in briefly.
The door opened.
The inside opened darkly.
Inside was a room like a small prayer room.
The ceiling was low, and the walls were close.
Even though the candles were out, a faint fragrance remained.
The air had a different smell.
That fragrance wasn’t floral, it was the scent of holy oil.
A smell similar to oil.
I wrinkled my nose.
The holy oil scent resembled the smell of mark water.
When mixed, they become hard to distinguish.
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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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