Little Pink Starfish

Theodore remained standing alone, unable to move from that spot. As Asher’s personal knight, it was his duty to follow him. That was the natural order of things. Yet, Asher had explicitly told him not to come. He had chosen Ward instead and hurried off to chase after Marquis Clarke. With Ward by his side, there was no reason to worry. And yet—Theodore’s expression twisted in displeasure.

At the same time, he pressed a hand to his forehead.

──── He’s avoiding me.

Just as Asher had been struggling with his thoughts, Theodore had been battling his own turmoil. His face remained as expressionless as ever, but inside, everything was in disarray. The mere sight of Asher made his heart pound. The sound of his voice made his chest tighten. He tried to suppress it. To endure it. But the instincts surging within him made him furious.

The first time, he had kissed Asher out of impulse. His blood had boiled with rage, burning so intensely it felt unbearable. His hatred for his fated mate was suffocating. It had consumed him. He wanted to silence the words that treated him like just another person—words spoken by the one meant to be his mate.

──── But the second time…

He recalled the way Asher had looked that night. Asher’s birthday had been miserable. On the day meant to celebrate his coming of age, he had been surrounded by those who despised him, mercilessly accused and interrogated. And yet, not once had Asher retaliated. Not once had he tried to run away. He had simply stood there, acknowledged his past mistakes, and apologized over and over again.

It had been painful to watch. The entire event had been cruel. More than just a public humiliation—he had been treated as if he had no right to be there at all. He must have wanted to escape. His expression was clouded, his eyes trembling with barely restrained grief.

Theodore had wanted to take him away immediately. But Asher had refused. His fingers had trembled slightly, yet he had stood tall, forcing himself to endure it all. Theodore’s chest had ached. His entire focus had been consumed by Asher alone.

“…Your Highness,” Theodore murmured to himself before exhaling heavily. He knew. This overwhelming feeling—it was only because Asher was his fated mate. That was the only reason. He clenched his fists, frustrated at the truth.

And then—the fox beastman who had chased after them had made his blood boil. The way that beastman spoke about his mate, with unwavering devotion, without hesitation or doubt—That happiness, that certainty, infuriated Theodore. Why? Why should he care? Why should it anger him that a mere beastman loved a human woman? Why should he care about that man’s happiness?

The thought dug into him like a thorn, refusing to be ignored.

“Beastmen are pitiful creatures… They live their lives bound by fate, never free, always shackled.”

A voice from the past whispered in his mind. Words spoken long ago. Words that reminded him of his own father. A beastman who had been broken by his bond, reduced to nothing by a love that was never returned.

Asher, on his birthday, had been made to bow his head again and again. He had been forced to endure disgrace, to suffer through a day that should have been his alone to celebrate. Theodore had wanted to give him a moment of peace, even if just for a little while. So he had taken him to that small, quiet shop. That was all it was meant to be.

And then—The way Asher had smiled after taking a sip of tea, whispering, “It’s delicious.”

Theodore had felt relief flood through him.

But then Asher had apologized. To him. For everything. For the things he didn’t remember. For treating Theodore cruelly in the past. For not knowing what he had done. His expression had been filled with sadness. That wasn’t why Theodore had brought him there. He hadn’t wanted to see that face. He hadn’t wanted Asher to feel like that.

He had tried to speak. To tell him that he didn’t need to apologize. That he hadn’t taken him there to force an apology out of him. That it had been his own mistake for not taking him away from that place sooner.

But the words never came. Instead—his instincts whispered to him. Was it only because of their bond? Would he forgive Asher, would he love him, only because of fate?

──── Only because they were mates?

And so, he had said nothing. He had let Asher go. He had returned to the castle. And, just as expected, the Queen had refused to let Asher leave her side. The Asher who sat beside her was flawless. Like a beautifully crafted doll. A delicate mask of perfect composure. But Theodore could see it. The hollow emptiness behind his smile. And it made his chest hurt.

──── I don’t want to see that face again.

But what could he do? What should he do?

His eyes had drifted to the castle gardens. Among the vibrant flowers in bloom, his gaze had settled on one—A deep blue, the same color as Asher’s eyes. And he had realized something.

──── He hadn’t given Asher a proper birthday gift.

When he had heard the maids whispering about Asher skipping the royal dinner, he knew—Tonight, Asher would be alone. He had convinced himself that was the only reason. The only reason he had gone to see him. Just to give him a flower. Nothing more.

But when he had entered Asher’s chambers—Asher had looked at him with such confusion, with such uncertainty. And then, he had smiled.

“…Today, thank you.”

That smile. Soft. Fragile. And utterly precious.

Theodore had felt something snap inside him.

──── I can’t fight this anymore.

His gaze locked onto Asher. His chest felt warm.

──── He’s mine.

Asher was his mate. He wanted to touch him. To protect him. To hold him close and never let go.

“Happy adulthood, Your Highness.”

Theodore had whispered those words before fleeing. Because if he had stayed—He would have lost all control.

Now, standing outside, the cold night air against his skin, Theodore let out a bitter chuckle.

“So this is what it means to be bound.”

He had fought it. He had denied it. And yet—Here he was. Completely, utterly trapped by his mate.

“I never wanted this.”

But he couldn’t stop himself from wanting more.