Little Pink Starfish

──────・・・・・・

After leaving the underground prison and walking for a while, Clark reminisced.

“…How long has it been… since I last spoke that name…?”

Even now, he could vividly recall the figure of his beloved.
Flowing red hair, shimmering green eyes that gleamed mysteriously. Thin lips, forming a soft and glossy smile.

Angela foolishly often said that Fred resembled Jeffrey, but not even once did Clark ever think so.

Fred had a habit of frequently fiddling with the pendant around his chest. When Clark pointed it out, Fred would blush and hurriedly let go, a gesture that was irresistibly endearing.
Despite sharing countless conversations and laughter, the image that always surfaced in Clark’s mind was that moment.

“I keep a portrait inside this pendant. In my country, lovers place each other’s portraits close to their hearts as proof that they live together.”
“That sounds very romantic. Then… does Lord Augustin also…?”
“…Who knows… I don’t even know what happened to the matching pendant I gave him.”
“I’m sure… he still wears it.”
“…That would be nice.”

Seeing Fred smile with sadness pained Clark’s heart. At the time, Clark had a wife. But perhaps, without realizing it, he had already begun to cherish Fred.

Fred, the prince of a small kingdom across the distant sea, had married into a foreign land. Perhaps feeling lonely, he often talked with Clark. That day, too, he had intended to engage in casual conversation.

“…I heard you are expecting a child. Congratulations.”
“……”
“Fred…?”
“The doctor told me… I might die.”
“…What…?”

Male childbirth carried more risks than female childbirth, but it did not always result in death. There were men who had successfully given birth to multiple children. Yet, for a doctor to give such a dire prognosis—just how dangerous was Fred’s condition?

“…And even if I survive, I won’t be able to have more children. …So, they told me Augustin should take another wife. Because if there’s only one heir, and something happens…”

Who could have said such a thing to an already vulnerable and anxious Fred? But it was true—an heir to the throne could not stand alone.

“Even so… Lord Augustin’s heart belongs to you, Fred.”
“…”

Fred lowered his gaze, unable to respond. Clark, at a loss for words, could only watch as Fred spoke in a small voice.

“I heard the name… of the woman he’s going to marry. Princess Angela.”

The name of a princess from a great kingdom across the sea, just like Fred’s homeland. A kingdom far wealthier than Fred’s, one that had clashed with his native land countless times. There was no way Fred’s country could stand against them forever. One day, it would surely be destroyed.

“Of all people… why…?”
“…Fred.”

With tears welling up in his emerald eyes, Fred let them spill in front of Clark.

“Just imagining the person I love being with someone else… makes me feel sick… No, maybe it’s just the morning sickness… Haha.”

Fred’s attempt at forced laughter made him look unbearably pitiful.

“Even if I safely give birth, I might die before I can raise my child. Even if I live… I would have to watch as the one I love is with someone else. …Which would be more painful?”

Clark could not answer Fred’s question. Remaining silent, he could only watch as Fred wiped his tears and gently caressed his belly.

“Sorry! You know, pregnancy makes you anxious… Just forget what I said.”

That day, Clark had regretted not being able to say anything comforting. Even now, he still felt ashamed that the one who was in the most pain—Fred—had been the one to show concern for him.

Fred had become weaker with each passing day. But as the time for childbirth approached, his condition had started to stabilize, and hope had begun to grow.

Then came the day Fred gave birth to the first prince, Samuel.

That day, Clark witnessed something he would never forget for the rest of his life.

After hours upon hours of labor, the cries of a newborn finally echoed through the halls. The door to the birthing room opened, and as soon as he stepped out, King Augustin collapsed onto his knees. The mighty and dignified king let out a wretched scream, shedding tears as his attendants struggled to support him.

The moment Clark saw that, he understood.

Fred was gone. He would never see him again.

Tears spilled from Clark’s eyes, just as they did from everyone who had loved Fred.

One by one, people left the scene. In the end, only Clark remained standing in front of the door, unable to move.

Inside, the cries of the newborn filled the air, while the maids busied themselves.

A royal child had been born. Yet, no one could celebrate with pure joy.

Clark simply wanted to see, just once.
The face of his beloved in his final moments.
And the child he had given his life to bring into the world.

As he stepped forward, about to enter the room, he collided with a maid.

“…!”
“Sorry… are you alright?”

Their eyes met for a fleeting moment.

Deep, clear blue eyes caught Clark’s gaze before quickly darting away.

The maid’s white cap had been displaced in the collision, revealing golden hair cascading like a shimmering waterfall.

“…Excuse me.”

The maid, pale and trembling, bowed before him. Clark noticed her hands shaking—she was gripping something, with a chain barely visible between her fingers.

At the time, Clark had thought nothing of it and simply watched as she hurried away.

Then he entered the room.

Fred lay upon the bed, his face pale as porcelain, beautiful like a lifeless doll.

The king had wept. So had Clark.

Beside Fred, the maids bathed the newborn, who slept peacefully, unaware of anything.

“…His condition was stable… Why…?”
“Suddenly… he started suffering… Why…?”

Clark could no longer bear to stay in that room.

The whispers of sobbing maids followed him as he turned and left.

But before he could recover from the grief of Fred’s death, Princess Angela arrived in Dias as the new queen.

At the grand wedding ceremony, Clark was struck speechless.

The new queen, radiant and enchanting, mesmerized those around her.

But Clark alone was horrified.

The face of Queen Angela—

—was the same as that maid from that day.

Could it be a mistake? Was he imagining things?

Yet, why had Princess Angela, a royal of another kingdom, been disguising herself as a maid in the castle that night?

Clark tried to dismiss it as mere coincidence.

────However.

An unease crept into his heart.

Again and again, he witnessed Angela looking at Prince Samuel with unconcealed hatred.

Her exquisite features twisted with malice, appearing grotesque in Clark’s eyes.

Wanting to put his fears to rest, Clark began investigating.

But strangely, the records of the doctors and maids who attended Fred’s childbirth were nowhere to be found.

As if someone had erased them on purpose.

The deeper he delved, the more his unease turned into suspicion.

And then—

“…I’m sorry. I was ordered to stay silent, but long ago, Queen Angela came and… had them all destroyed.”
“What…?”
“I don’t know why… She came soon after her marriage and…”

No evidence remained.

But doubt had already taken root.

“Beautiful… but terrifyingly strong-willed. Had Fred survived, the rivalry between them would have been relentless.”
“She never once held Prince Samuel… not even once.”
“If she has a child, she’ll try to make him king. It’ll be a battle of blood.”

People whispered.

And years later, when Angela finally conceived Asher—

“I want my child to be the crown prince.”

Clark froze, staring at her.

That moment, his doubt turned into certainty.

This woman—she had killed Fred.

There was no proof. But everything pointed to it.

Fred’s condition had been stable—so why had he suddenly died?

Clark clenched his fists, nails digging into his palm, drawing blood.

No doubt remained.

This woman had murdered Fred.

And now, she gazed at her child with love.

Clark, his eyes filled with hatred, glared at her.

“Asher… my beloved child.”

Fred had been kind, noble, and cherished by all.

Fred had been loved by King Augustin.

Fred had never even held his own child.

Fred was dead—yet Angela now stood in his place.

No one noticed as Clark’s heart twisted further.

And that hatred—

—turned toward Asher.

“……It’s been a long time.”

Clark’s quiet murmur echoed through the empty corridor.

“The effects of Landalim have worn off, and there were some minor setbacks… but, well, no matter.”

Resuming his steps, Clark wore a smile as he moved toward his intended destination.

Upon entering the room he had reached, a sweet fragrance filled the air.

“You lot, it’s time for work.”

Slowly, a group of beastmen raised their vacant eyes toward Clark.

Their appearances were anything but normal—some swayed unsteadily, while others remained motionless, staring into the void.

Asher was not the only one who had been under the influence of Landalim.

────Even beastmen could be controlled.