Little Pink Starfish

The boy placed his hand gently atop the ghost’s head.

“Please, go to a better place.”

As he murmured, the spirit’s form scattered into shimmering light.

Shuuuu—

Watching the trail of light rise into the sky, the boy smiled softly.
Memories of the spirit flowed into his mind.

People who had been torn apart by monsters that manifested through the Gate…

The boy lowered his head and brought his hands together in prayer.

“I’m truly sorry… for what happened to Jeju Island.”

To the boy, Jeju appeared no different from hell.

Everywhere he looked, there were wandering spirits—
ghosts who had nothing left but resentment.

Each night, the boy helped them find peace.
It should’ve been impossible.

But he was using the power sealed within Abrilah’s Crown,
a relic of the Prince from the Otherworld.

Abrilah had once used that very same power to take countless lives.
Now, that power was helping release the spirits he had slain.

…A bitter irony.

Looks like all the ghosts in this area are at peace now.

He scanned his surroundings.
No more lingering energy.

Still a while until sunrise… maybe I should head to the next area early.

As he turned to walk—

Tug.

Someone grabbed the back of his shirt.

“…Huh?”

He turned, but saw no one.
Then he looked down—

A small boy stood there.

Hair the color of polished gold,
eyes glowing like yellow moons,
wet lips, flushed cheeks, a chiseled jaw, and a dainty frame.

Why would a kid be out at this hour…?

The older boy crouched to meet his gaze.

“What’s wrong?”

No reply.

“Did you get lost? Where are your mom and dad? Did something happen at home?”

Still, no answer.

What should I do…

After a moment of thought, the boy turned around and offered his back.

“Hop on. I’ll take you to the police station.”

The little boy stared blankly at his back.

“What is it?” the older one asked, turning slightly.
“Oh… do I seem like a weird person or something?”

The child shook his head, then climbed onto his back.

And so, the boy walked.

The area was remote—he had to cross a mountain to reach the nearest station.

“You shouldn’t be out at this hour. There are bad people, wild animals….”

He smiled.

“…and plenty of ghosts, too.”

At that, the boy on his back pressed his face deeper between his shoulder blades.

Finally, they arrived at the station.
He handed the child over to a police officer, and turned to go.

Still bothered by the boy’s silence, he left a slip of paper with his phone number.

“If you ever need help, call me.”

He smiled and walked away.

The boy stared at his retreating figure.

“Hey…”

The officer addressed the child.

“Kiddo, do you know your parents’ phone number?”

The boy shook his head.

“Home address?”

Another shake.

“…Hmm. This is tricky.”

The child turned toward the entrance.

“Hey! Where are you going?”

The officer called after him.
The boy sighed—
Then shouted:

“Enough with the prattle! Silence, creature!“

It was unmistakably the voice of The Star Hated by All.

---

I was scrambling to react.

“Uh… how I met Han Iro? Well….”

I couldn’t exactly tell Hamin the truth.
Not about my Constellation, my artifact, or Han Iro’s scars.

Han Iro, meanwhile, watched with a faint smile.
As if saying, Let’s see what excuse you come up with.

…What a smug jerk.

“We chatted on the plane, remember? I told you I liked Iris—asked him for an autograph, that kind of thing….”

“You liked Iris?”

Hamin squinted at me.

“Yeah. I like artsy films, remember?”

“…I guess so?”

“What more do you need?”

“Right,” Han Iro said, finally stepping in.

Took you long enough.

“Hamin, right? You’re in Eunyul’s team? Let’s do our best.”

“Uh, y-yeah. Sounds good…”

Hamin, caught between formal and informal speech, looked flustered.

“You here to look around the museum?”

Han Iro asked. I shook my head.

“No, I thought we should incorporate some storytelling into our stage.”

“Like what?”

“A tribute to the victims of the Jeju Gate incident…”

“That’s a great idea.”

Han Iro nodded, genuinely impressed. Then he whispered so the mic wouldn’t catch:

“Since CCM is heavily religious, connecting it to an event involving Constellations fits well. Especially since this performance is in Jeju…”

He nodded to himself, as if already piecing it all together.

“You’re amazing, Eunyul.”
He patted my shoulder.

If he was complimenting me, it meant I’d made a decent call.

“So, uh… why are you here all of a sudden?”
I whispered.

He tilted his head like it was a silly question.

“Finished practice early and had time to kill.”

…Must be nice.

“Oh! Want one of these?”
He rummaged through his hip bag and pulled out two cellophane-wrapped dalgona candies.

“An old lady was selling them on the way here.”

“Whoa… dalgona?”
“Thanks.”

Hamin and I each took a pack from him.

“I also got fried biscuits and twisted donuts—want some?”

“Nah, we just had lunch. You go ahead.”

Was it because he grew up in the countryside?
Didn’t expect him to be into this kind of street snack.

“You can’t eat inside the exhibit halls, so finish it out here. I’ll head back to the dorm. Good luck, both of you!”

He waved and turned to leave.

He seemed more energetic than I remembered from our rooftop talk.

“…That guy.”
Hamin muttered as he chewed the dalgona.

Quietly enough only I could hear.

“He’s kind of annoying.”

“…What?”

“Like, who does he think he is, judging our song concept like that? I overheard his teammates during lunch the other day—they all just talk crap about him. Say he’s a stuck-up show-off.”

…Getting isolated by your own team, huh.
How petty.

I let out a dry chuckle.

“Didn’t seem that way to me. He was just giving us advice.”

“What?”
Hamin looked surprised by my reaction.

“Besides, you didn’t even guess why I came here. Han Iro figured it out right away.”

With that, I headed to the front desk.

“Hey, Ryu Eunyul! Wait up!”
Hamin called, following close behind.

---

Gravity’s Team Meeting Room
…which was really Madojin’s room.

After dinner, I gathered everyone to lay out our next steps.

The team was in rough shape.

Jungho looked like his head might explode from arrangement stress.
Sure, CYB had professional arrangers to assist us,
but Jungho still had to lead the practical side—especially the acapella intro.

Jeong Noeul was covered in pain-relief patches from head to toe.
Made sense, since he was practicing ballet-based choreography.

And Madojin?
As usual—blank as a wall.

Actually… was this guy a germophobe?
His room was spotless—like it had never been lived in.

“So… did the museum trip help?”
Jungho asked, looking worn out.

I nodded.
“I know what we need to do now.”

I told the team about what I’d seen at the Jeju Purification Memorial Museum.
Handed out brochures I’d picked up.

The key point:

Like Han Iro said,
since we were assigned a CCM song,
linking it to a historical event involving the Constellations would strengthen our concept.

Especially since this was a morale concert.
For that purpose, CCM was actually a plus.

“So we’re going to tweak the lyrics.”
I said.

“Words like ‘Lord’, ‘Savior’, ‘God’—we’re changing them.
Rewriting the lyrics to honor those who died during the Gate Crisis.
Subtly, metaphorically—nothing too on-the-nose.”

“Who’s rewriting it?”
Noeul raised his hand.

“I am. That’s why I went in the first place.
But…”

I pointed at the brochures.

“You all need to read these too.
CYB will probably conduct individual interviews later,
and you need to be able to explain our concept clearly.”

“…Do we really have to go that far?”
Jungho asked.

“Of course.”
I said firmly.

“If we get labeled as cluelessly bringing up Jeju,
it could blow up in our faces.

Right now, the most important thing is…”
I thought of Chaeya’s words.
“…building conviction.”

“Eunyul.”
Madojin suddenly spoke.

“I have a question.”

While the rest of us were still absorbing the conversation,
Madojin had already picked up a brochure and started reading.

Closing it gently, he asked—

“Why do people grieve death?”

Everyone stared at him in disbelief.

“…Dojin,” I said, frowning.
“You don’t feel sad when someone dies?”

He tilted his head.

“Isn’t death eternal rest?
Why would one grieve something that offers permanent peace?
I don’t understand.”

I…
What are you, an anime villain?

No—
I shook my head.
Focused.

I remembered what Madojin said in the first audition.

“I don’t have parents.”

If that was true,
then maybe death meant something different to him.

Was he raised in an institution?
Or did he lose his parents in an accident?

Even speculating made me feel bad.

But it made sense that he might view death differently.

I lost my dad, so I kind of understood.

“Dojin.”
I sat next to him.

“Let’s look at this together.”

“Alright.”

He handed me the booklet.
I opened it and began to explain, step by step.

Our generation was born after the Gates were closed,
but the previous one still remembered.

Abrilah opened the Gate at Baengnokdam.
Most of the Hunters in Jeju entered the Gate—
and died.

While they were trying to reach the island by plane or ship,
Abrilah had already taken over all of Jeju.

That’s why the island’s environment changed to resemble the Otherworld.

Madojin listened like it was all new to him.

I see.
So that’s what happened.
Really…?

His reactions were oddly pure.
This stuff was part of the middle school curriculum.

“You see this person?”
He pointed to a photo of an older woman.

“She lost her entire family?”

“That’s right.”

I read the caption aloud—
She survived alone, after losing everyone she loved.

…Exposed to the Gate’s corrupted air,
she suffered for the rest of her life before passing away.

“Doesn’t this make you feel anything?”
I asked gently, as if prompting a child to answer a math problem.

Madojin thought deeply before responding—

“It… hurts.”

“That’s right.”
I grabbed his shoulder and nodded.

“That’s exactly it.”

A strange sense of pride bubbled up.
Like I was a teacher guiding a student.

But Madojin’s next words took me aback—

“Really… really… it hurts.”

He looked like he might cry.

“A-ah… yeah. That’s what it is…”

I stared at him, stunned.

Just what kind of life had this guy lived?