Touch My Brother and You Die - Chapter 3

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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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Lost in thought, I descended into the Annex Building’s basement, then deeper still down another flight of stairs. I opened the secret passage disguised as a storage door and descended further underground until I stood before a heavily locked door. I closed my eyes.
“My beloved electrical friends.”
Change by magnetism, come on.
I placed my finger into the keyhole and rotated my hand with the precision of a safecracker. I’d already memorized the lock mechanisms used throughout the Mansion. The tumbler cylinder locks were made of metal, after all—easily manipulated by magnetism. The real challenge was executing it with sufficient finesse.
Pressing my ear against the door, I controlled my magnetic force carefully, confirming each cylinder clicking into place as I slowly turned my hand.
With a metallic click, the door swung open.
With my abilities, this was child’s play. I had no idea what he was hiding, but clearly Father had grown careless! If he’d used a locking spell, I would have turned back empty-handed!
I pushed the door open confidently, only to freeze at the sight before me.
Iron chains extended from every direction, coiled tightly around an enormous sword planted in the center. Alien magical power radiated from the blade in waves.
“Ah, Teacher, please respect the genre….”
I’d wanted to mention this for a while now. I really wish you’d stick to the genre. Isn’t this supposed to be a BL novel? A story about boys in love, isn’t it, Teacher? More precisely, a story where Asterion writhes sexually, but what is this, Teacher? Why would you plant a corrupted Excalibur in someone else’s basement, Teacher? I really hate when you include settings never mentioned in the novel that only you know about, Teacher. Are you having fun teasing me, Teacher?
But since I was a discarded existence, I found myself intensely curious about this ominous demonic blade.
The moment my hand grasped the sword, the chains shattered with a deafening clang, and I lost all control.

◇ ◆ ◇

There was nothing—only consciousness. Had I finally succeeded in dying? It was peaceful. I wished I could remain this way, thinking of nothing at all.
– User identification in progress. You are not the contractor.
A mechanical voice interrupted my newfound tranquility. For reasons I couldn’t explain, my instincts told me it was the sword I’d grasped speaking to me. I truly had no idea why.
Contractor, you say?
– The primary body’s contractor is Rosalite Rocksburg. When the contractor’s wish is fulfilled, the primary body will cease to exist.
Ah, so we can communicate without speaking aloud. But Rosalite is me, isn’t it?
– Negated. Rosalite Rocksburg died 23,825 days ago as payment for the contract. You are merely a replacement—a soul most similar to Rosalite Rocksburg.
How dare an object call me a replacement. And when exactly was 23,825 days ago? It sounds like a very long time.
After rough calculation, I realized it was roughly sixty-five years ago. Now that I thought about it, that was around when I first became Rosalite…. No, surely not.
– Affirmative. You were summoned after Rosalite Rocksburg’s death. From the primary body’s subjective perspective, 23,825 days have passed.
If I’d had a body, I would surely be sweating cold beads right now. Given the context of the primary body’s subjective time, the contract’s price—could my repeated returns to sixteen-year-old Rosalite be connected to this?
– Affirmative.
Wait, hold on. I’m getting ahead of myself, but there’s a glimmer of hope here, and I can’t contain my excitement. Just give me a moment. Breathe. In. Out. In.
Though I had no body, I took a moment to breathe deeply and thought: “Could it be that when the dead Rosalite’s wish is fulfilled, this sixteen-year-old Rosalite’s tragic dance of destruction also ends?”
– Affirmative.
That’s it!
That’s the answer!
I’m thrilled!
I did it!
I succeeded!
Rosalite did it!
Wait, hold on, you pitch-black blade. Yes, wish! What exactly is Rosalite’s desire! Tell me quickly!
– The contractor’s desire is for Asterion’s desire to be fulfilled.
Then what is Asterion’s desire?
– Unknown. Unknowable.
Utterly useless.
The moment I thought that, the mana around me convulsed violently. Wait. You’re not upset, are you?
– When the contractor’s stress reaches its limit, the primary body goes berserk through the linked substitute.
Ah. You shouldn’t be saying that now, Teacher.
I tore free from the darkness, violent agony wracking my body.

“Cough.”
When consciousness returned, I was surrounded by ruins and coughing up blood. The blade I’d been gripping, so vivid in my grasp, had slipped from my hands and lay rolling in the distance. The shape of the ruins looked familiar somehow—it resembled the ruins of our home from before, and it seemed I was the one who’d been struck. Fragmented memories surfaced: smashing buildings, slashing at those who’d tormented Asterion.
So… Teacher… please, could we change the genre…?
“Sister!”
Oh my! Here comes the grown version of Asterion. The silver-haired, blue-eyed handsome Asterion was covered in blood—whether from fighting me or from wounds sustained, I couldn’t tell. With scars marring that beautiful face, he’d be left with marks. That wouldn’t do.
“Sister, why did you draw your sword!”
I don’t know. Shouldn’t you ask Father first why he had a sword stuck in the basement? Anyway, you’re using sword energy again? Every time I see you reach that level, it seems Swordmaster really suits your talents perfectly.
I had so much I wanted to say, but I couldn’t convey anything while coughing blood. Somehow I had to ask about his wish first.
“I… I needed nothing as long as I had you, Sister…!”
Why is he suddenly like this?
…Or is it not sudden? It feels like he’s been clinging to me like gum from way back?
The silver-haired handsome Asterion embracing me poured out various confessions—that he’d admired me since the first time he saw me, that he’d been watching over me since Rosalite first came to the Duke’s Mansion before turning sixteen, back when Rosalite was being raised at her Maternal Grandmother’s House. But I was losing consciousness from blood loss, and his words grew increasingly hazy.
Regardless, I understood one thing.
So that was it.
That’s what it was.
Asterion.
A sister complex…?
Teacher, you shouldn’t have kept something like this to yourself. You should have revealed it in the narrative. I’m going insane.
As I closed my eyes, too weak even to cough blood, I thought:
I hate third-person narration.
I hate narrative tricks even more.
I hate the author of “Asterion of the Blue Starry Night” the most.

◇ ◆ ◇

I became sixteen-year-old Rosalite.

2 PM. Checked.
The blue sky outside the window. Checked.
Hair length. Checked. Becky, Lily, and Violet preparing my afternoon tea time. Checked.
The Garden is beautiful, the birds are singing, the sunlight is warm—my Duke’s Mansion remains peaceful today.
It’s still Father’s for now, but what does it matter? I’m the heir. If it will become mine in the future, there’s no harm in calling it mine already.
Confirming that 【Cycle 21】 was in a normal state unlike Cycle 20, I lifted my teacup, took a sip, and opened my mouth to speak.
“Becky, bring Aster from downstairs—she’s been loitering about. Lily, bring the guest. I haven’t the faintest idea where she’s wandered off to. Violet, prepare another teacup and fetch high-grade parchment and a pen.”
“Yes, Young Mistress!”
How adorable, the three of them speaking in unison. Even more charming was watching them bustle about, lifting their skirts as they hurried to carry out my orders. Now that I’m this age, watching children exert themselves over something is endearing in general, but today, in such a good mood, they seemed particularly precious.
I think I can finally be at peace now. The point is, I just need to fulfill Asterion’s wish, isn’t it?
I have everything except the throne—what could I possibly deny Lion?
I sipped my tea and unfolded the parchment Violet had brought, picking up my fountain pen. Paper has become commonplace in this place, but for matters of importance, one must observe tradition. What they call ceremonial formality, in other words.
In this case, it amounts to merely using an expensive sheet of parchment, but when the scale grows larger, one can use it to show off: “Our House is wealthy enough to afford such things, oh ho ho!” There’s nothing quite like crushing a presumptuous opponent with a display of wealth. Ceremonial formality is the best.
“I have brought Aster, Young Mistress.”
My goodness, Becky. Your efficiency is remarkable. So that’s why the branch family sent you as a spy? Because of you, I nearly died several times, and Asterion died once. Who would have thought you were the one who poisoned the lemonade? When your Young Mistress discovered that fact, I thought my heart would shatter into a thousand, ten thousand pieces. Damn you.
“You’ve done well, Becky. As of today, you’re dismissed.”
“Pardon?”
The girl hasn’t quite grasped the situation yet. But I’m busy, so I waved my hand dismissively while concentrating on writing out the appointment letter in elegant script.
“Give my regards to your uncle.”
“…It has been an honor to serve you all this time.”
Finally understanding, Becky trembled with conflicting emotions as she bowed, then left without looking back. There’s much to think about when returning to a dead end.
Ah, it’s done.
I finished writing the appointment letter on the parchment and blew on it gently to dry the ink quickly. Aster, standing a few steps away waiting to be called, seemed bewildered by the current situation. Well, I’ve barely seen her face a few times before suddenly summoning her, and when she arrives, the maid I called for gets fired. If she suspected this was a summons for those who’d been caught in wrongdoing, she had every reason to be nervous.
“Aster, three steps forward.”
But I hadn’t summoned her for any reason to fault her. This knight who has served as my escort three times and never once faltered in protecting me, never bewitched by Asterion. A knight who has devoted herself to Duke’s House for three generations, stubborn as hell and obsessed with honor, yet skilled and loyal—the light and salt of my life! No, salt is salty, so just light! Aster the light!
“Kneel.”
“Miss, what is the meaning of—”
“When did you start calling me ‘Miss’? Kneel.”
This household has a habit of treating Duke’s House members like children because they’ve worked here for generations. Aster’s father, William, even called Father “Young Master” around Cycle 5, which made me burst out laughing in public.
That day, I was confined to the house for three days as punishment for laughing so hard in public, and for those three days I rolled around my room floor giggling “Young Master” over and over. When Father heard about it, I was grounded for an additional two days.
Such things happened. A memory from long, long ago.
“Hurry.”
She still hasn’t knelt.
I looked up at the towering Aster. She’s incredibly tall and has cut her brown hair short, but if you look closely, you can tell she’s a woman. At first, I wondered if she had some complex about it, but when I asked her before, she said it was simply for convenience. Short hair dries quickly after washing, and borrowing clothes and undergarments from her brothers costs nothing—the best arrangement, she said.

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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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