The way to Protect the Female Lead’s Older Brother - Chapter 40

Jeremy waited for me in the waiting room while I washed the blood off me and re-dressed. Once I sat down, he inspected me closely by flipping my wrist on his palm to check my pulse. He leaned in closer to make sure my pupils weren’t diluted, and when he was satisfied that I was alright, he laid down beside my knee and let me pet his wild hair for a brief moment. The rest of our evening together was watching the fire, having afternoon tea, and having Jeremy enact a replay of his last adventure in the monster menagerie. I had clapped delightedly while Jeremy brandished an invisible sword and jumped around the room, vanquishing oversized beasts and acromantulas without getting a single injury from his efforts.

It would have been a cute play if Jeremy was only playing pretend. I knew he was not exaggerating when he used a poker as a javelin and flung it into a painting of my mother, father, and me. The steel poker had landed directly between the eyes of my mother’s portrait.

“I pierced the manticore between the eyes, just like that!” he chirruped excitedly. His bloodlust was eminent. This thin, lanky child had felled a one-of-a-kind beast this morning as if it were nothing but a simple exercise before breakfast. He had skinned the lion’s fur himself and had left his handiwork in the menagerie for the servants to dry and tan the skin. Jeremy offered the manticore’s skin to me as a trophy, but I declined and said I would visit his room one day instead to admire it.

[This is a manticore]

He pulled the steel poker out of the portrait and tossed it towards the fireplace before sitting next to me again. “You don’t mind the hole I’ve put in your family portrait, do you Noona? I know you don’t like your mother either.”

“It looks much nicer this way,” I smiled.

When Emily came by with my nightcap, Jeremy made a face, but rose graciously without antagonizing her this time. He mentioned how late it was with a stiff pout and kissed my hand. My approving smile must have mollified him because when my little brother left, he uncharacteristically closed the door gently behind him.

After finishing my drink, I sat alone in bed and unwrapped the bandages around my arm. Blood gushed out and began to drip down towards my elbow. I grimaced. I had cut myself too deeply in the hatchery with the dagger, and would have to give myself stitches after the feeding.

Before the blood could stain my bed, I called out softly, “It’s time for supper.”

Dark red butterflies appeared from the shadows, one by one, until there seemed to be an autumn leafed hurricane above my head. There were a dozen total, who laid on my arm and began to feed off my blood. The sensation wasn’t painful, but I could feel myself weakening and becoming lightheaded, just as I had done in my past life, after donating blood.

The butterflies had different personalities. While all them could be could be called poisonous butterflies, none of them had the flesh-eating personality I needed for one of my schemes. So far, I had only nurtured butterflies that were good for spying or creating illusions. Out of the three eggs I had taken from the volcano, one had been broken by Jeremy, and the second one had been asexual, thereby producing all of the butterflies I had now.

The third butterfly that I had procured was still in the greenhouse. I had felt the killing intent from this poisonous butterfly. It would be a fine addition to my little army. I still couldn’t believe this part of my plan was working. In the original novel, I had read that hatching a poisonous butterfly had a low success rate, thirty percent at most, even lower if we were being conservative. Yet I had hatched two: one was a spy and the other had the potential for murder. Soon they would multiply again and again, until I could have hundreds, maybe even thousands of them at my disposal.

In order to live, all of these butterflies required a certain flower I was growing in one of the greenhouses, and a main ingredient to the poison I drank regularly to control the butterflies. It was a highly poisonous flower to humans; if I had not trained my immune system since childhood, I might have succumbed and died a long time ago.

Even now, I was too weak to control many of them. One butterfly was with Cassis to alert me if someone else entered his room. The other had been sent to the western border a while ago to find the Pedelian search party for Cassis. The rest of my butterflies stayed in my bedroom and rested on the potted flowers I kept to the side, or waited patiently for me to open the vent, which was their direct connection to the greenhouse.

The butterflies had a long lifespan and would stay alive as long as they could feed off me. My blood was a drug to them. Once they drank it, they could no longer return to simply drinking off flowers. The offspring were doomed as well, having inherited their parent’s addiction to my blood alone. Once I died, all of these butterflies would wither away too.

The butterflies were now fundamental for my survival. They were a secret from Jeremy, my mother, Emily, and the rest of my family, at least until I could get Cassis to escape from this mansion.

I waved my hand over my arm and the butterflies scattered. I had to take care to refrain the butterflies from becoming too greedy. If I fainted, I knew they would keep drinking until Emily came the next day and found my dried up corpse. I dismissed all of them except one, who stayed perched on my forefinger.

“Check on her in the western border,” I said.

I was not sure if the butterfly I had previously sent there had succeeded in finding the Pedelian knights or had died along the journey. Now that I had more practice and poison in my system, I could afford to send another butterfly to give word on the other one’s status.

When the butterfly on my finger left, I bit my lip and scrunched the bedsheets under my hand. I could tell. It was much easier to control the butterflies than before. Undeniably, there was a correlation between controlling the butterflies and the amount of poison in my body.

I rang for Emily again and ordered her to increase the ratio of poison in my tea during tomorrow’s breakfast. I prepared the poisons by hand and she added the powder or capsules to my drink, as if she were adding sugar cubes to someone’s tea.

I had to grow stronger, faster. Even if I became crippled or infirm in the future, I was going to survive.

Translator’s Note: This is my first time adding pictures! I used to want an army of butterflies and a younger brother, but I’m not sure anymore.