The Shepherds Are Dense

Chapter 61: Reliable Siblings

Aiwass froze. Instinctively, he touched the red dust at the corner of Yulia’s brow.His fingertips burned—as though he had pressed against glass filled with scalding water.

This wasn’t sweat.

It was Fire Essence—the seepage of the phantom within her body!

Aiwass’s mind raced. He remembered: after the first warehouse fire—the very next day, when senior Haina had come to visit—Yulia had slept until nearly dusk, pale and drained.

And tonight… Edward had deliberately skipped escorting Aiwass home, sending Sherlock in his stead, rushing off instead to “investigate” the fire. Yet he had returned than Sherlock.

It clicked at once.

The culprit behind the fires was no summoning warlock.

It was Yulia herself. The Inferno Butterfly inside her was breaking loose.

The Fire Essence at those sites wasn’t alchemical, but the butterfly’s residue.

“...There. It’s sealed again.”

Edward exhaled heavily. “The rest is up to you, Aiwass. Heal her first. I’ll explain after I catch my breath.”

The silver chains dissolved. Yulia collapsed against Aiwass’s chest—he was startled by her weight, limp with unconsciousness.

The fissures in her skin no longer blazed, though blood still seeped from them like fresh knife cuts.

Edward, lips cracked and parched, downed two brimming glasses of water before collapsing onto a sofa, utterly spent.

Aiwass recognized instantly.

And the binding technique Edward had used—those translucent shackles—it wasn’t Avalonian law-magic. It was something else, closer to the of the ancient Ansian Empire, used to bind slaves for sacrifice. He had used it to force the hatching butterfly back inside.

The question burned, but there was no time. Yulia’s fever still raged.

“Clean towels. Warm water,” Aiwass ordered sharply. “Quickly.”

“Yes, at once.” Oswald vanished.

Aiwass stripped away the scorched nightclothes, wrapped her lower body in the quilt, and laid her head across his lap. Placing his hand over her heart, he closed his eyes.

Light flared from his palm.

Gradually, her frantic breaths steadied, the fevered flush fading. But the sensation beneath his hand made his brows knit tighter and tighter—

The heat was flowing .

A searing current crawled up his arm, burning like swallowing raw chili. His left hand to his shoulder blazed as though hollowed out for fire.

Danger.

He wrenched his hand away before the heat could reach his heart.

Yulia’s wounds knit shut. She slipped into a peaceful sleep. But the heat remained, smoldering in Aiwass’s left arm, skin flushed crimson and fever-hot.

Suppressing a wince, he tucked her into the quilt.

“Here, the towels.”

Oswald returned with basin and cloth. Aiwass wiped away the scarlet sweat. It smeared like strawberry jam. He cleaned her in silence, pocketing some of the residue for later study.

At last, Yulia lay breathing evenly, fresh linens wrapped around her.

Only then did Aiwass turn to Edward. “Explain. What’s happening to her?”

Edward rubbed at his temples. “You’ve guessed it. Yulia is a . Most don’t live past twelve. Father’s medicines kept hers dormant, bleeding off the corruption. But the older she grows, the stronger it presses. Even double-doses won’t hold it down much longer. If we increase it again, the damage to her nerves could be permanent.”

His eyes hardened. “Last week, when you were attacked, she worried herself sick. She barely slept, checked on you through the night. By dawn, she was feverish. She she was losing control, and she told Father. He had Oswald take her to one of our warehouses to vent. But Father neglected to re-seal her afterwards. Tonight, she unraveled again—probably from anxiety about your banquet, or you starting school.

“She tried to handle it alone. Walked toward that warehouse. But it’s under guard, so she sought another… and collapsed in a stone depot instead. Luckier than she knew.”

Aiwass exhaled shakily.

Edward continued, voice grave yet steady: “In truth, she was decisive. She saved this household from burning down. If the secret of her condition leaked, the law would demand euthanasia. By rights, she deserves praise, not scolding.”

He leaned back, utterly spent. “It’s over. Twice she’s flared now, and nearly exhausted the butterfly. I’ve re-sealed her. With medicine, she’ll be stable again.

“This was my failure—I forgot to remind Father to check the seal before he left.”

He added, voice quiet but edged: “And don’t worry about the residue. By law, only one alchemist handles such matters for the Crown: Dr. William Wynn Westcott. He’s an old friend of Father’s, and he knows what to say. Tomorrow, I’ll take you to greet him at the Academy.”

Then, with the calm assurance of an elder brother, Edward concluded:

“Rest easy, Aiwass. Go to school. Study. Leave the family to me. I’ll come home every day now, so you need not worry.”