Little Pink Starfish

“Great and Almighty Sha Amon.”

The moment Amon’s foot touched the ground, all humans—except for Nine—fell to their knees in reverence. Wherever his feet stepped, wherever his gaze swept, the air itself grew heavier. Beyond his near-perfect appearance, Amon exuded an overwhelming sense of power. Most humans feared him, and even Nine, who was closest to him, was not exempt from that fear.

Amon walked with a blank expression, as if the kneeling humans were beneath his notice—completely ignored.

But Nine knew well that these people didn’t mind. Even with their faces buried in their own shadows, their black eyes burned with blind devotion to Amon. These were the kind of people who would consider it the greatest honor of their lives to be trampled underfoot by him. Nine had seen some offer their robes to wipe the dirt from Amon’s sandals. And each time, Amon had stepped on them without hesitation, using them as if they were meant for that.

The one worshipped by all now walked straight toward Nine. Unlike Nine, who was draped in elaborate gold ornaments, Amon wore only a simple necklace and arm bands of gold. Yet he lacked nothing—there was nothing humble about him.

“Sha Amon.”

Nine lowered his head slightly. As another divine being, a Sha, Nine wasn’t required to kneel—just a slight bow was enough. Still, he sometimes wondered if he should kneel like everyone else.

The priests often said that Amon was the one who gave Nine his sacred flesh, blood, and pure soul—that this was why Nine, like Amon, had long jet-black hair and golden eyes. But Nine had never truly believed himself to be divine. Unlike Amon, he had never once felt omnipotent. He likely wouldn’t even stand a chance against a single beast.

A god like Amon? Impossible. Nine believed he was just a human, born with golden eyes by sheer luck—perhaps sold or offered to the temple by his parents. The reason he bore no scars was simply because he’d grown up pampered under the priests’ care.

They said Amon had created Trastasa and the river that split it, and that he had protected humanity from monsters for five hundred years. He didn’t eat, didn’t sleep—an immortal god living in the flesh. Even now, Nine had never quite gotten used to him. Standing before Amon always made him feel like a frog before a snake—tense, afraid.

It always felt like Amon could devour him at any moment…

“Nine.”

When Amon spoke his name, Nine’s heart fluttered and his cheeks flushed. As much as he feared Amon, he also… liked him. There was something deeply gratifying about being the only one whom such a powerful, feared being would call by name. Those golden eyes, like shards of the sun, briefly scanned the jewelry Nine wore.

“You’re wearing something I haven’t seen before.”

“It’s amber jewelry offered as tribute by a wealthy man from Yuka.”

Nine secretly hoped for a compliment—perhaps something about how it suited him. But Amon merely said, “I see.” Nothing more. Not surprising. Amon was always laconic and detached. Sometimes, Nine felt as if even the few words Amon gave him were handed out like alms.

Even so, Nine couldn’t help but imagine—compare, even—his bond with Amon to those cheerful, talkative couples he’d seen at banquets. What he shared with Amon was not like that. It was affectionate, but never warm.

Instead of kind words, Amon simply reached out and brushed Nine’s cheek with his hand. Leaving behind a trail of heat, he walked past. Nine followed, and those who had been kneeling quietly rose to trail after them. The fan bearers bustled forward to cast shadows over Amon and Nine. Their large ostrich-feather fans were wide enough to fully block the sun.

Walking behind Amon, Nine found his thoughts drifting back to the new Resha. Were the rumors true? That Amon was drawn to the Resha’s unusual eyes and hair? Or was it all just baseless gossip?

As he pondered, they arrived at the Dajusil—a grand space without a roof, lined with towering stone columns. White veils fluttered gently between them, and each pillar was carved with lotus flowers, palm trees, or papyrus. Two rare, beautiful waterbirds with teal feathers chirped on one of the columns. Nine gazed at them for a moment before turning as Amon came to a stop.

When Amon sat on a stone chair carved from sandstone, the priests and slaves sprang into action. Canopies were raised, and a small, gold-plated table was quickly set up. Nine turned his gaze from the now-vanished birds and seated himself beside Amon. The table was soon filled with sweet wine flavored with honey, dates, bread, and pastries.

Nine nibbled on some bread and glanced at Amon. As always, those golden eyes showed no interest in anything—cool and detached, as if the world bored him. He neither expressed joy nor anger. Nine was oddly grateful that Amon had never ignored him, and so he carefully asked:

“Amon.”

Those golden eyes turned toward him, mildly curious.

“How was the monster hunt?”

“No different from usual.”

Truthfully, that wasn’t what Nine wanted to ask. He nodded and waited a beat before slipping in the real question.

“What color do you like?”

“I have no particular preference.”

“I… I see…”

The usual indifferent reply oddly made Nine happy. He took a sip of the sweet wine, then dared to speak again.

“They say the new Resha has rare hair and eye colors.”

“Is that so?”

The god tilted his flawless face slightly. But it was not Amon who replied—it was his chief priest, Ossen Iyad, the most ornately dressed of all, and head of the high-priestly House of Ha-Net.

“Yes, Sha Amon. It is said they have pink hair and eyes.”

“Pink? How can a human have such a color? Isn’t it dyed?”

Nine, who had been listening without much thought, blurted out his surprise. Pink was a color he had never imagined on a person.

“We confirmed it is not dyed. It is indeed rare, but still merely human. They cannot compare to the divine gold of Sha Amon or Sha Nine’s eyes.”

Ossen bowed deeply. Nine’s curiosity lit up his eyes.

“Pink, but what kind of pink? Like the koi in my garden? Or like flower petals? Where is this Resha from?”

In his garden pond swam rare pink koi, offered as tribute by a provincial overseer.

“More like flower petals, my Sha. The Resha came from the North, where even their kin have pink hair.”

Nine sighed, disappointed he hadn’t seen them earlier. But realizing he might seem too eager in front of Amon, he glanced sideways. Amon appeared completely uninterested, which was a relief.

Still, Nine spoke proudly, “Even so, bringing a heretical being into this sacred place doesn’t sit well with me.”

“I beg your pardon, Sha Nine. The new Resha may indeed be a base barbarian, but once they complete the purification ritual, they will become a loyal servant of Sha Amon and Sha Nine.”

He had raised a fuss out of irritation at the growing number of Reshas, but received only a smooth, practiced response. With no more objections at hand, Nine drank some wine and turned again to Amon.

“Amon, this wine is so fragrant and sweet. May I pour you a cup?”

“Do so.”

With his blessing, Nine carefully filled a gilded goblet. He watched in a daze as the wine touched Amon’s lips. For a moment, the red staining them didn’t seem like wine, and he blinked. Of course, it was wine.

As the silence stretched, Nine’s thoughts shifted again. No matter how different the new Resha was, it would be fine. There were countless Reshas in the Lotus Hall—but Nine was the only one who had been granted the right to stay at Amon’s side.

To Nine, Amon was the center of the world. And so, Nine had to be the same for Amon. Even if he wasn’t Amon’s center, he had to at least feel that Amon was worth centering his world around…

After a pause, Nine gave a small shake of his head.