Little Pink Starfish

Yuan Yuanyuan had liked a lot of 2D demons — many of them were her first loves, and even after all these years, those feelings hadn’t changed.

So when she first discovered she had become a half-demon, she was actually secretly thrilled for quite a while.

That thrill lasted… right up until the moment she witnessed demons tearing each other apart with her own eyes.

Demons, it turned out, were brutal. Bloody. Ruthless.

Sure, many of them were beautiful, charismatic, just like the ones she had read about in novels and seen in anime.

She had seen many powerful demons — even if only glimpses — and they were indeed magnetic. It made sense that people had written about them for centuries, in comics, in stories. They were captivating — that’s why they were immortalized.

But Yuan Yuanyuan… really couldn’t fit in with that world.

A lot of things, taken alone, could be romanticized in fiction — violence turned into aesthetic, cruelty into allure. But let’s be honest — Yuan Yuanyuan wasn’t some dumb middle school edgelord. Some things, once you see them for real… you understand.

The first time she saw a demon kill someone, she snapped. Grabbed a knife from nearby and stabbed the demon right in the kidney — which earned her half a year of being hunted.

Looking back now, she had no idea what the hell she was thinking.

From the demon’s perspective… they hadn’t really done anything wrong, had they? Survival of the fittest — that was just the way things worked. In truth, she, the half-demon, was the chaos agent.

But from a human perspective… well, Yuan Yuanyuan didn’t have much right to speak.

She was a half-demon. Half-human, half-demon. The name says it all.

She never liked getting involved in things… but, deep down, the reason her life had been such a mess might just be because she cared too much.

She didn’t like killing. She didn’t like watching demons kill.

But she wasn’t exactly a saint either. Sometimes she felt she was a bit of a hypocrite — unwilling to kill humans, but somehow fine killing demons.

So now, facing a situation like this… what should she do?

Yuan Yuanyuan stood at the doorway, listening to the sounds from within. She thought she had been frozen there for a long time, but in reality, barely any time had passed.

In her mind, she saw flashes — blood-soaked girls, falling petals, the white-robed man.

…

Wasn’t she supposed to come negotiate with that “bigshot”?

But now, it seemed like negotiating didn’t really matter anymore.

She realized something was off when she noticed — the moaning sounds inside had stopped.

Startled, she shivered, wondering if something had happened during the time she’d been zoning out.

She looked around and suddenly noticed… she was alone in the corridor. The woman in purple had disappeared.

The lavender and blue mist was gone too.

A strange chill filled the hall — where just moments ago had been a dreamlike pleasure den, it now felt like a freezer.

Yuan Yuanyuan hesitantly took two steps forward, pulled out her knife, and pushed open the door where the sounds had come from.

She had braced herself for gore… but found the room empty. Just a model room setup, with a large full-length mirror at its center — perfectly reflecting her entire form.

In the mirror, she saw her own clownishly painted face.

She looked at herself. And… she looked back.

Yeah, this wasn’t what she’d expected at all.

Confused, she stepped into the room — and the door slammed shut behind her.

The loud bang startled her. She spun around and tried the door — it wouldn’t budge.

When she turned back to the mirror, she was stunned to see red lipstick scrawled across the glass.

If you were given a new identity right now, what would you do with it?

Yuan Yuanyuan walked closer, recognizing the lipstick color… iron-rust red.

She knew it was Ji Qiu. Writing with lipstick — very much his style. Randomly dragging people into strange, alternate scenes — also his style.

She had wanted to ask the “bigshot” a lot of questions… but now, she didn’t even want to see his face.

With a head full of conflicting thoughts, she blurted out, “Who are you, really?”

I’m Ji Qiu.

“I know… I mean, are you a demon? A human? A Taoist priest? A god? Or some other weird thing…” She recalled every over-the-top trope she’d ever read, throwing out guesses at random.

Does it matter? You’re not going to find me anyway.

Lines of text appeared across the mirror, as if from nowhere. Yuan Yuanyuan rubbed her temples.

“Okay, different question — why are you drawing this manga? Why am I in it? Are the others also drawn like this — as alternate versions of themselves?”

Aside from you, many others have been drawn in too. Some, like you, are shown through another identity. Others are drawn as they truly are. What does it matter? I just want to draw a good manga. If you perform well, you’ll stand out. If not… well, I’ll give you a fitting ending — as all stories do.

“…Wow, what a noble mission,” Yuan Yuanyuan deadpanned.

She was starting to get Ji Qiu’s game. To him, they were just pieces on a board. Each piece, based on its position, learned different things.

She was probably a “supporting male character.” That role got a bit more access to the truth… but still not much.

Higher up — the protagonist level — might know more. Lower — background extras — might never realize anything at all.

There were many others like her — demons or people stuck in this same situation. All putting on a performance. If they didn’t perform well, they’d be shelved… or killed off.

So what was her “supporting character” role meant to do? Develop the plot? Amplify the protagonist’s tragedy? Add flavor?

Thanks for the compliment, appeared on the mirror.
Now back to the original question. If you were given a new identity — mysterious, powerful, charismatic, much stronger than you are now — what would you do with it?

“…Hmm,” Yuan Yuanyuan stared at the question in silence for a few seconds.

“I think… I’d probably do something embarrassingly edgy,” she finally admitted, a little awkward.

I know. That’s why I chose to draw you into my manga.
I’ve selected many fitting souls for my characters.

So you picked me because I’m a cringe edgelord?

Yuan Yuanyuan felt defeated. The whole scene was starting to feel familiar. Honestly, it reminded her of Lelouch and C.C., Sebastian and Ciel, L and Light… Ji Qiu and Yuan Yuanyuan…

She wasn’t even surprised when the next line popped up:

There are many like you.

Then, bizarre designs started appearing on the mirror — disturbing, grotesque markings. Even more ridiculous than the clown pattern she’d painted on her own face. Uneven, chaotic, unsettling.

Frowning, she stared at the symbols.

After drawing for a month, I realized my manga was missing an interesting male side character. Even though I already had several, my favorite one died too early.

“Ugh, get to the point,” Yuan Yuanyuan said.

In other manga, supporting characters are often powerful, interesting, deeply appealing. Even when they die, they’re fondly remembered.
I’ve had a few like that. But my last major tragic supporting character died so early… I wasn’t prepared. I had to find a replacement.

“…Tragic?” Yuan Yuanyuan’s expression turned strange.

She’d spent the last two weeks working her ass off to shape her persona — cool, aloof, devilishly charming, badass.

And now the grand reveal was… tragic support role?

I think you’re perfect for it, Ji Qiu wrote earnestly.
That’s why I picked you.

…

When Yuan Yuanyuan snapped back to reality, she was back in the hallway.

From the room to her left, the moaning sounds had returned. The purple-blue mist had reappeared.

The woman in purple was smiling at her again, eyes filled with ambiguous suggestion. The air was thick with demonic aura, dizzying and oppressive.

She recalled Ji Qiu’s final message:

Do you think you can save that girl?

“…Maybe?”

There are a lot of demons in there. You definitely can’t do it alone.
So, how about this — agree to something for me, and I’ll help you.

“Dude, if you keep talking like that, I’m not saving her. You sound like an actual devil.”

My supporting roles don’t need to be identical.
But there are still… a few prerequisites. Agree to a bit, and I’ll help.

Yuan Yuanyuan knew he was up to no good. He was just like those fast-talking salesmen — before you knew it, you were in deep.

But he wasn’t wrong. She didn’t have the strength to save that girl alone.

How important was power in the demon world?

If Yuan Yuanyuan had been stronger… maybe she wouldn’t have been forced to flee her home.

If she’d been stronger… maybe people she met before wouldn’t have ended up hurt.

If she could be stronger… would some things — maybe a lot of things — have turned out differently?

She looked around at the restored illusion, then at the woman in purple, and gave her a small smile.

Then she turned and pushed open the door behind her.

Inside was a strange, seductive, terrifying scene. Her eyes scanned the people in the room.

The demonic aura hit her like a wave — her head swam as soon as she stepped in.

Her eyes landed on the red-stained carpet… and the white-robed man.

He sat at the head seat, just like before. Even in this grotesque environment, he remained calm, serene, ethereal — like a celestial being untouched by the filth around him.

Today, Yuan Yuanyuan realized just how misleading appearances could be.

She leaned on the doorframe, looking at him. The room’s other occupants were surprised to see her, but not alarmed. They simply watched, waiting to see what she would do.

Yuan Yuanyuan glanced around — the room was lavish, decadent, far grander than when she’d arrived earlier. There was a vague, lingering scent of lust.

“Before I came in, I was wondering how I should treat you,” said the man in black who had just barged in. “Should I act like an extra? Or maybe lean into the shipping potential — man in black and man in white, that’s kind of a vibe, right?”

The man in white raised an eyebrow slightly.

“But now I understand… why you came to me.” The man in black — Yuan Yuanyuan — licked his lips flirtatiously, his tone oddly suggestive.

As he spoke, he pulled out a small knife and walked forward.

…

Ah, Yuan Yuanyuan thought, what a great cannon fodder role a rich young master makes…

Maybe she’d just agreed to something really stupid. But she also knew — if she did nothing and walked away, she’d never sleep peacefully again.

And this tragic supporting role… how tragic would it really be?

As she stabbed the blade toward the man in white, Yuan Yuanyuan wondered that briefly.

But slowly, she stopped wondering.

Whatever would be, would be.

At the very least — now, as she fled the bar with the girl in her arms, running down the street under the night sky — Yuan Yuanyuan thought:

She had followed her heart.