Little Pink Starfish

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“Asher?”
“Ah…”

Asher instinctively averted his gaze, but Samuel grasped his chin, forcing him to meet his eyes.

“What are you afraid of?”

With his brows slightly furrowed in what appeared to be concern, Samuel smiled. Seeing that expression, Asher swallowed nervously.

“Th-this painting… is it of me? Why is it like that…?”

Summoning his courage, Asher questioned Samuel. Samuel, however, merely blinked in mild surprise before shifting his gaze to the portrait.

“No, that is not Asher. It’s a counterfeit. It bears no resemblance to you whatsoever.”
“A counterfeit…?”
“And besides, this painting does not depict the current you. The artist based it on the Asher from before… I must have a new portrait commissioned immediately.”

Samuel withdrew his hand from Asher’s chin and instead ran his fingers through Asher’s hair.

“But this golden hair… Each strand is so fine, so smooth and soft to the touch… And this radiance—can any artist truly capture it? And your eyes… so deep and clear, a blue so pure… Every feature of yours is exquisite, flawless.”
“A-ah…”

Flustered by Samuel’s words and the way he gazed at him up close, Asher froze. However, Samuel paid no heed and continued to touch him.

“Your waist is so slender… as if it might break. There’s an ephemeral fragility to you… It’s strange that you don’t have wings.”

Samuel sighed softly, as if in admiration.

“But instead of wings, I hear you have scars on your back… and elsewhere.”
“…What?”
“The physician who examined you upon your return reported it… And so did the Forest People.”

The scars… Asher realized they were referring to the lash marks and bite wounds.

“The physician mentioned that, for some reason, your wounds were healing at an abnormal speed.”
“…!”

It was no surprise that the doctor would find the rapid healing suspicious. After all, it was thanks to Theodore’s power. But there was no way Asher could reveal that to anyone.

And what exactly did the Forest People know? What had they told Samuel?

“God…”

Samuel’s hands cupped Asher’s face.

“God has acknowledged His mistake and has healed your body.”
“…! Brother!”

Shoving Samuel’s hands away, Asher quickly stepped back.

“That’s impossible…! More importantly, you said you had something to discuss with me?”
“…The beastman who injured you.”
“…What?”
“He should have been executed like Clark. However, since the King already reduced his sentence, we had no choice but to exile him from the country.”

The beastman who had wounded him—Asher recalled the wolf-like man.

Those gleaming, predatory eyes. The large fangs. The way he had treated Asher like a plaything.

I don’t want to remember…

Asher clenched his fists, biting his lip. Samuel, noticing this, placed his hands firmly on Asher’s shoulders.

“…I see I’ve frightened you. I’m sorry, Asher, but don’t worry.”
“Worry…?”
“Yes. We did exile the beastmen. But do you think I would simply let the one who harmed you go free?”
“Wait… What did you do to them!?”
“…‘Them’?”

Samuel’s grip on Asher’s shoulders tightened slightly, his expression darkening.

“The Forest People told me that the one who wounded you was a wolf beastman. Was there… someone else?”

Asher’s body tensed.

No…!

He quickly shook his head.

“…Did you kill him?”

At Asher’s whispered question, Samuel’s usual smile returned.

“…I considered having him secretly executed. But that would be too light a punishment for what he did to you.”
“Too light…?”
“Instead of exiling him along with the others, I put him on a separate ship—one bound for the Scorching Lands to the south.”

Beyond the southern seas lay—

“…Murofsua?”

“The people there hunt beastmen, you see. By now, he’s probably been captured and is facing his fate. I’ve heard they…”

“Stop! I don’t want to hear it!”

Asher’s cry echoed through the room.

The moment he shouted, Samuel pulled him into a tight embrace.

“…You’re right. I was a fool to speak of such barbaric things in front of you… Forgive me.”
“Brother… Please, let go of me.”

The grip around him loosened slightly.

Asher cautiously looked up—and saw Samuel’s golden eyes narrowing in delight.

“Asher…”

Samuel leaned in closer.

Realizing what was about to happen, Asher quickly turned his face away.

Samuel chuckled softly—then pressed his lips to Asher’s cheek.

“…!”

Startled, Asher tried to push him away, but Samuel seized his arms before he could.

“Let me go…!”
“…No one should ever be allowed to taint you… And yet… I know this is wrong. I know it’s foolish. But understand, Asher… I love you.”
“Wha—!?”
“…You are an angel, Asher. A being close to the divine… I knew it the moment you were born.”
“Samuel…?”

Samuel tightened his embrace, preventing Asher from escaping.

“Haa… Asher…”

His warm breath against Asher’s neck made him shudder.

Asher struggled, desperately trying to break free, but Samuel was far stronger. Their difference in physique was overwhelming.

“…Let go of me, Brother!”

At Asher’s sharp cry, the door suddenly burst open.

“…Excuse me.”

Theodore stood in the doorway.

“…What do you want, Theodore?”
“I heard the prince screaming.”

Samuel’s voice remained calm, but Theodore was unfazed.

“Furthermore, His Majesty has announced that the royal family will resume dining together starting today.”
“…I see.”

As Samuel finally released him, Asher seized the opportunity to escape.

He rushed to Theodore’s side, hiding behind him.

Theodore took one look at the trembling Asher, then turned his sharp gaze toward Samuel.

“…What did you do to His Highness?”
“What do you mean?”

Samuel maintained his usual gentle smile.

Yet, something about it was deeply unsettling.

Theodore’s eyes flickered toward the walls—toward the countless paintings.

And then, toward the enormous portrait in the back, the one with its face slashed apart.

“Prince Samuel, I will take my leave now.”

“Asher, wait. I still need to—”

Without listening to the rest, Asher bolted from the room.

He couldn’t bear to stay in that eerie space a second longer.

Outside, Ward was waiting, but Asher ignored him and kept walking.

“Your Highness!”

Theodore hurried to catch up.

“What… was that room? What happened?”
“…”

Asher didn’t answer.

No—he couldn’t answer.

He himself was still trying to comprehend the meaning of Samuel’s words and actions.

Samuel is… terrifying.

──────・・・・・・

Samuel let out a long, languid sigh.

The sensation of holding Asher in his arms lingered—light as a feather, soft as silk, carrying a scent so intoxicating it left him dizzy.

Lost in the memory of that moment, he was interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing.

Turning toward the door, he saw Ward standing there, his face stiff.

“Wow… This is quite the room… No wonder Prince Asher ran away.”
“…What are you implying?”
“You sure collected quite the number of paintings.”
“…Not all of them were gathered by me.”

This room had originally been a gallery of paintings left behind by Samuel’s mother, Fred.

As a child, Samuel—who had never known his mother—would often sit here, gazing at the angels.

As he grew older, he began adding his own collection, filling the empty walls.

Now, he finally understood why Fred had amassed so many angelic portraits.

“Asher… looks just like Queen Angela,” Samuel murmured.

“Prince Asher will surely hate you after this,” Ward remarked.
“As if. He would never hate his own brother.”
“…Where does that confidence come from?”
“It is simply the truth.”

Samuel draped the black cloth back over Asher’s ruined portrait.

And as he turned away, he smiled.

“I will not become like my mother.”

It was a smile as beautiful as ever—

Yet, watching him, Ward felt a shiver of unease.

For in those golden eyes, something sinister flickered.