Will You Cry for Me If I Die? - Chapter 72

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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 72

“They intended to officially verify Rumel’s immortality, comprehensive abilities, and the holy mark.”

Verification.

Verification is experimentation.

Looking with eyes, checking again, looking once more to see if it’s wrong.

Experiments smell like glass and metal.

Cold, smooth, making hard sounds when struck.

I pressed the inside of my mouth with the tip of my tongue.

I slowly pushed against my palate.

I felt like the taste of metal would rise.

Lermiel spoke in a low voice.

He didn’t draw out his words.

“Placing me beside him was also intentional.”

His voice was thin but didn’t tremble.

The end didn’t waver.

Not trembling means someone who’s prepared.

Someone who’s already thought it through.

I glanced at Lermiel briefly.

I raised my gaze fleetingly without lingering long.

He no longer avoided eye contact.

He was looking straight ahead.

It was a gaze that didn’t avoid.

I found that strange.

Not avoiding means not running away.

The Prince isn’t someone who runs away.

I had that thought.

Theodor asked as if grinding his teeth.

His jawline was rigid.

“Why did you put Rumel in front instead of targeting us.”

Sharpness is good.

If it’s soft, you miss it.

You have to push hard to catch it.

Demian answered.

His words continued without breaking.

“Directly touching Ikaros would mean total war.”

Total war?

I didn’t understand that term.

“What’s total war?”

“Fighting from the front. Like a shield.”

Fighting from the front is dangerous.

Then Count Iden moved his hand lightly and continued the explanation.

“However, if they make an issue of immortal abilities and the holy mark, they could create justification. The Daytime Emperor seems to consider himself fake somehow. He’ll do anything to become real.”

Justification is reason.

Reason makes hands legitimate.

When a striking hand has reason, it doesn’t stop.

I knew that, so my insides felt cold.

The inside cooled thinly.

Millayen tapped the armrest with his finger.

Tap.

A short, hard sound rang through the wood.

Tap.

The second one followed.

Twice.

Twice is a signal of thinking.

I counted those sounds.

One.

Two.

Three didn’t come.

I felt a little relieved that three didn’t come.

Three would mean it’s getting long.

Long isn’t good.

“The Royal House will exercise official investigation rights based on the holy mark.”

Millayen’s words continued.

Official investigation rights.

Movement with a name attached.

An unavoidable direction.

“Then they’ll come to catch me.”

I asked.

It wasn’t pretending not to know.

I was genuinely curious.

Catching comes immediately.

The Research Institute was always like that.

They didn’t delay.

Demian shook his head.

Firmly.

“Not immediately.”

Not immediately.

Then later.

I filled in the rest myself.

It continued in my head.

Iden explained.

He kept his gaze toward Millayen and continued.

“First they’ll send a summons.”

Summons.

Calling again.

Calling my name.

I hate being called.

When called, a string forms.

An invisible string connects.

Strings bind.

They prevent movement.

Theodor spoke in a low voice.

“If we don’t respond.”

He didn’t raise the end.

Millayen answered.

His gaze didn’t waver.

“Then the Royal House will make a reckless move.”

Reckless move.

Reckless means many.

When there are many, it’s hard to block.

It comes from multiple directions.

I dislike many things.

One at a time is good.

Lermiel stepped forward.

His movement was quiet but clearly visible.

“I’ll move first.”

Moving.

When you move, you stand out.

If you stay still, you can hide.

If you stand out, you’re a priest.

What’s visible gets followed.

I jerked my head up.

My neck was pulled up quickly.

“No!”

My voice rang out louder than I thought.

Everyone’s gaze gathered on me.

The gazes that had been scattered between the columns narrowed all at once and converged toward the center.

Even the shadows that had fallen on the floor felt like they were being dragged in one direction.

Gazes are frightening.

The moment you’re seen, there’s nowhere to hide.

Still, I didn’t avoid their eyes.

I didn’t drop my gaze to the floor but kept it raised.

Lermiel looked at me.

His eyes accepted the direction of the light as it was.

His eyes curved just slightly.

It was different from a smile.

The ends didn’t rise, and the inside was firmly gathered.

It wasn’t a smiling face.

It was a determined face.

The face of someone who had already decided before moving.

“Why not?”

He asked.

Though his words weren’t long, they remained clearly in the space.

I chose my words.

I didn’t open my mouth right away but delayed by one beat.

If I say just anything, I’ll be caught.

Scattered words break quickly.

“You’re bait.”

I cut it short without letting it continue.

The room became quiet for a moment.

The air felt like it stopped once.

Even the thin airflow between the columns seemed momentarily caught.

When it gets quiet, it feels like I did something wrong.

It feels like my words were wrong.

I dislike being wrong.

Wrong things get corrected.

They break while being fixed.

Demian slowly nodded his head.

The movement wasn’t large but continued to the end.

“That’s right.”

It came down as if pressing the air down.

Lermiel’s shoulders stiffened just slightly.

Though there wasn’t much outward change, the line of his clothes was pulled minutely.

I saw that stiffening.

It was a small change.

When you stiffen, it hurts.

If strength doesn’t release, you can’t last long.

Millayen stood up from his seat.

He moved slowly so the chair wouldn’t scrape the floor.

He spoke slowly.

His voice spread from the center of the space outward.

“The Founding Festival was the Royal House’s test.”

Test.

I’ve taken many tests.

The same questions repeated, and if the answer is wrong, you start over.

On the experiment table.

On the cold surface.

My vision blurred.

Light spread like it was bleeding, then gathered again.

“We don’t need to give answers.”

Millayen continued.

His words continued without breaking, maintaining center.

“We should question their guilt.”

Changing the question.

I didn’t understand those words.

A question is a question.

What’s thrown remains as is.

Why change it.

I couldn’t tell where it would be changed to.

Theodor asked instead.

He leaned his body forward slightly.

“How?”

Millayen answered without shifting his gaze.

“Before the Royal House makes Rumel an issue, we shake the Royal House’s legitimacy first.”

Legitimacy.

I didn’t know that, so I fidgeted with my fingers.

My fingertips bumped against each other making small sounds.

What you don’t know can’t be grasped.

That’s why it’s more uncomfortable.

Demian looked at me and added.

His gaze touched briefly then turned away again.

“The Royal House is unstable right now.”

Unstable.

A state where the inside is shaking.

When unstable, you make mistakes.

Your hands don’t go precisely.

When you make mistakes, you get caught.

I understood that connection.

Lermiel spoke in a low voice.

His voice was laid out thinner than before.

“Fakes don’t last long.”

Fake.

I had heard stories about fake royalty before.

Things that only look the same on the outside.

I am not a fake.

I am No. 1.

And I am Rumel.

Both exist together.

Millayen came to a conclusion.

His words didn’t drag on any longer.

“The Founding Festival is over.”

Those words bound the room tightly.

The scattered air gathered as if tied into one.

Though bound, I wasn’t suffocated.

Sometimes binding can be protection.

It prevents you from going outside.

“We should return.”

If possible, we’ll take a long detour back to the Realm of Winter.

I felt a little anxious hearing those words.

The words felt like they came from far away.

Far.

When it’s far, you can’t see it.

When you can’t see it, it’s more frightening.

I hate distant things.

I prefer small things, close things, things within reach.

I asked in a small voice.

I pressed down so my words wouldn’t spread widely.

“I’m going too.”

Going would be dangerous.

I knew it was dangerous.

My body remembered it.

Still, I wanted to go.

I didn’t want to be separated from here.

Millayen looked at me for a long time.

His gaze didn’t move.

Time felt like it stretched out long.

Then he spoke very slowly.

“Rumel, you are a variable.”

Variable.

I don’t know that word.

The meaning didn’t come to mind.

But I knew it was an important word.

It wasn’t a light word.

“A variable is an important existence. So all the more, there’s no way I’d leave you near this damned Imperial Palace. But remember that you can’t stay hidden either.”

He added.

His words weren’t gentle.

They continued like a predetermined direction.

Hearing those words, my insides grew cold.

The inside cooled down once.

Not hiding.

But I like hiding.

Being invisible is comfortable.

I closed my eyes briefly.

I shut them very shortly.

The smell of the Research Institute brushed past.

It was cold, wet, and a smell that lingered when touched.

Then the air of Winter Castle pushed that smell away.

Cold air that came from outside and dry air that stayed inside mixed and remained.

I opened my eyes.

My vision became clear again.

“I won’t get caught.”

I spoke slowly.

I won’t go back again.

I won’t go to places similar to Clofford either.

I won’t lie down again in that hot yet eerie place.

And I believed now that I wouldn’t have to go.

That the people of Winter Castle would surely make it so.

“I’ll absolutely never go back!”

As I had believed, they smiled and nodded.

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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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