Fabre in Sacheon’s Tang Novel - Chapter 307

Chapter 307
In the deep mountains, if you light a lantern in the darkest part of the night, insects will gather around it.
To keep them from scorching themselves on the hot glass, people typically wrap the lamp in white cloth or a fine mesh. This technique for luring and capturing insects is known as lantern trapping.
In my previous life, I, the Spicy Fabre, performed this ritual monthly during the season—and I always invited my viewers to join me.
It was a perfect way to amass a collection of adorable venomous moths, which I adored, while also netting popular varieties like stag beetles and rhinoceros beetles.
‘This feels so familiar.’
Standing here with a bright lamp burning in the profound darkness—it took me right back to those times.
Back then, every season, hundreds of people would send in applications to be part of the event.
As the temperatures rose and insects grew more active, I would host a live field broadcast focused on collecting them, bringing viewers along for the experience.

「 [This Weekend: Fabre’s Special Live — The Year’s First Lantern Trap] 」

“That’s right, it’s finally that weekend again! You know what that means—the annual lantern trapping event you’ve all been anticipating for an entire year is here.”
– FatTurtle: Whoa, it’s that time already? I’ve been looking forward to this.
– PufferBro: TO THE FORUMS!
– ScorpionsAreCute: First trap of the year? I’m definitely in.

The moment I announced the lantern trapping stream was starting, the chat went into a frenzy.
Applications poured in immediately, nearly overwhelming the bulletin board.
Who could say no to the very first lantern trap of the year?
My audience shared my peculiar tastes, so it was only natural for the applications to flood in.

“And I’ve got some great news! What is it, you ask?
Last year, we could only take five people each time, and some of you thought that was too few. Well, starting this year, a viewer with a van has volunteered to drive—so I’ll be bringing ten of you with me!
That’s twice as many spots as last year!
Don’t worry, I’ll be covering the fuel costs.”

For safety, I had never taken more than five viewers along before.
But last year, several regulars I’d met through this content offered to assist in different ways.
So this year, when I declared we were doubling the number of participants, the chat erupted with celebration.
A few even confessed the only reason they watched my streams was for a shot at joining these events.

– RolyPolyKong: I knew I could count on you, Spicy Fabre, you magnificent man.
– ScorpionsAreCute: Double the odds from last year? This is a total victory.
– PufferBro: This year, we’re grabbing every single one!

Then, just as the excitement hit its peak—a donation alert appeared in the chat.
○ BlueLizard has donated ₩10,000 ○
[BlueLizard: Seriously, you all need to quit. What’s coming is pure nightmare fuel. Do you really not get why none of last year’s participants ever came back? You’re going to regret this.]
– RolyPolyKong: …What’s this about?
– JewelBeetle: Scandal?
– RedMaple: Fabre, you jerk, EXPLAIN YOURSELF!

The chat quickly filled with emojis of hooks.
But the truth was, last year’s participants didn’t reapply because I’d asked them to step aside—to give others a opportunity.

“Thank you for the ten thousand won, Brother Blue Lizard! But you told me you had a great time last year, didn’t you? Why the sudden shift?
And since when does everything require a full explanation? Are we in the middle of a public apology press conference?”

Blue Lizard was a viewer who kept rare spiders and had stayed in contact with me after last year’s event. That’s why this felt so strange.
He had definitely expressed enjoyment before.
It didn’t feel hostile, though.
It seemed more like he was stirring up trouble—and predictably, the rumors in the chat only grew wilder.

– PoisonousBoa: Hold on… did Fabre take secret extra payments or something?
– ScorpionsAreCute: No way, Fabre isn’t like that. He makes a corporate-level income just from selling the bugs he breeds himself. This has to be about a woman. I have no evidence, but I’m sure of it.
– Hoverdragonfly: A woman? Don’t tell me the high number of female applicants last year wasn’t random? You said it was a lottery. Was that a lie?
– PufferBro: Give the guy a break. He’s at that age where certain urges are hard to ignore.
○ PufferBro has been banned ○
“Nope. Banned for that nonsense.”
Really? A woman problem? This Fabre has lived a life of pure dedication. That was an unfair shot.

– RolyPolyKong: LOL instant justice.
– PoisonousBoa: Bunga bunga lol
– BlackCentipede: He was a good bunga—I mean, a good sport. RIP.

Just then, another donation came through.
○ BlueLizard has donated ₩10,000 ○
[BlueLizard: I did have fun! But it’s not an experience I ever care to repeat!]
“What does that mean?”
He was speaking as if he’d witnessed something horrifying. My interest was thoroughly piqued.
Another donation followed.
○ BlueLizard has donated ₩10,000 ○
[Once that lantern trap begins, you will meet… a certain deviant.
A man drooling over a moth in his hand, muttering about how cute it is and rubbing it against his face…
It’s chilling to witness. And those poor moths—what on earth does he do with them when he gets home?]
“Well—they were just really cute, alright!? And I released them afterward, didn’t I!?”
It was true. I had done exactly that.
When I confessed, the chat fell completely silent. Only rolling bean emojis moved across the screen.
– PoisonousBoa: …………
– ScorpionsAreCute: …………

Then, a new wave of comments arrived.
– Hoverdragonfly: All male applicants should withdraw. This man requires professional help.
– RolyPolyKong: Yeah, this time just send the women. He’s genuinely unwell. He needs to discover that mammals can be cute, too. We should guide him in that direction.
– JewelBeetle: This time, only female viewers should join. Ugh… we need someone who can manage him. They might even have to dress as a bug or a reptile!

Shaking off the memory, I turned my attention back to the Blood-Blossom Dream Illusion Butterfly approaching through the night sky.
Its flying grew more unsteady the closer it got to the flame.
It had turned over completely—now flying on its back.
‘Feeling a bit disoriented?’
I felt a smile form as I observed its behavior.
It was now obvious—this being was subject to the same innate instincts as every other flying insect.

Many people think insects are attracted to light because they fly toward it, but that’s a misunderstanding.
It was once thought that insects had a natural affinity for light, but decades of biological study have revealed their gathering is actually due to confusion.
They aren’t drawn to the light—they become disoriented by it.

So why does light cause this disorientation in insects?
To understand, we must consider airplanes.
Aircraft have numerous instruments on their panels. One is a circular gauge with a blue upper section and a brown lower section. Anyone who plays flight simulators has likely seen it—it’s known as an Attitude Indicator.
This instrument displays the aircraft’s current tilt and orientation. It informs the pilot of the plane’s angle when the horizon can’t be seen.
It is one of the most critical flight instruments. And it exists for one precise reason—pilot vertigo.
In aviation, this type of perceptual illusion is termed “vertigo,” or spatial disorientation for humans.

Humans evolved to travel in two dimensions—along the ground.
But flight requires moving in three dimensions—something we are not naturally equipped to do.
Unlike ground movement, where we have a constant reference like the horizon, the sky lacks any fixed points.
Without a clear sense of “up” or “down,” our bodies fail to process the situation correctly—and we are easily deceived.
One frequent illusion is the loss of speed sensation.
At high altitudes, the ground vanishes, leaving only vast blue sky. With nothing streaming past, you begin to lose all feeling of movement.
An even greater danger is when pilots lose their perception of “up” and “down”—known as the graveyard spiral or a somatogravic illusion.
Pilots may not realize they are descending or climbing. In extreme cases, the plane could be inverted without their knowledge.
A famous story from World War II tells of pilots on night missions mistaking lights from ships on the ocean for stars—and diving straight into the water.
This kind of illusion stems from confusion in the inner ear, which manages our balance.
And flying insects are equally susceptible to this type of confusion.
On nights with a bright moon, you might see insects crash into lakes or ponds. It’s the same phenomenon—spatial disorientation during flight.

So how do insects avoid constant crashes without attitude indicators?
How do they distinguish the sky from the ground?
Insects have a unique capability called Dorsal Light Response—an instinct that makes them turn their backs toward the brightest light source they can see.
It may seem simple, but before artificial lights filled the world, this was an ingenious evolutionary adaptation.
By turning their backs to the moon and stars, they naturally preserved correct orientation. They could locate the horizon—without any instruments.
That’s how they used celestial light to tell sky from ground and find their way through the night.
And this is precisely why artificial lights befuddle them.
Their Dorsal Light Response forces them to turn their backs to the brightest light. But what occurs when a small, powerful light source—like a lantern—appears nearby?
They instinctively try to align themselves with it, which results in them flipping over and flying in continuous loops around it. In the end, they spiral downward… and collide.
Just like this.
—THUMP!
‘Ouch…’
The Blood-Blossom Dream Illusion Butterfly had just flown over the lantern I’d lit—then abruptly swerved down, striking a house roof with a solid thud.
A cloud of glittering red scales poofed into the air like iridescent haze before slowly dissipating.
Its body was too lightweight to sustain injury.
Even so, seeing it crash made me wince. I pushed up onto my toes to get a better look at the roof.
A second later, I saw it there, flapping its wings on the rooftop. It lifted its head, antennae twitching in obvious bewilderment.
—Chii!
It let out a small, surprised hiss.
This must have been its first crash. The poor thing appeared utterly dazed.
A month ago, when the village lit lanterns, they only kept them burning for an hour or so—it likely hadn’t crashed then.
It probably believed it was flying perfectly—only for the ground to jump up and hit it. Of course it was flustered.
Yet, what truly captured my interest was the sound it produced.
The fact that it could vocalize made my heart leap.
‘Wow! A butterfly that makes noise!?’
Typically, butterflies are silent. However, the larvae and pupae of species such as the Chinese Windmill or the Great Mormon can make sounds—like quiet hisses or even small growls—when they feel threatened.
They produce noises akin to a tiny puppy or a sharp puff of air.
It seemed this butterfly had retained some of those characteristics.
‘The longer I observe it, the more intriguing it becomes.’
Just as I was admiring its unique qualities once more, it shook its head and took to the air again.
But this wasn’t an escape—it was merely fluttering within the Buddha’s palm.
‘One could say the Blood-Blossom Dream Illusion Butterfly is now in the palm of So-ryong’s hand.’
It beat its wings and ascended again, but now it was caught in the lantern trap I had hung between the bamboo poles.
It started to fly in endless circles around the shimmering blue flame.
—Flap. Flap.
Its crimson wings disturbed the air, releasing a fine red dust that drifted down like snow.
Its flight created a faint, crimson ring in the air around the blue lantern light.
‘Once you’ve worn yourself out… we’ll have a conversation.’
I resolved to wait until it was weary from exhaustion—then I would attempt to speak with it.