Little Pink Starfish

Before Nine could respond, Popo had already gestured to summon the robe attendants. Banquets were a regular event in the Great Temple—there were monster hunt celebrations, seasonal festivals, feasts for the river’s blessing, and countless ceremonies to honor Amon and Nine…

It was tedious, but Nine couldn’t exactly skip a banquet that Amon would attend. So, reluctantly, he sat up. Without a word, he extended his foot, and the robe attendants gently removed his sandals, wiping his feet with warm towels.

While the priests carefully tended to him, slaves approached on their knees, presenting heavy jewelry boxes. Nine waved them away.

“Leave the jewelry. I’m not changing it.”

Amon had glanced at it once—he didn’t want to swap it out. The priests responded in clear, melodic voices:

“Yes, Sha Nine.”

After wiping his feet, one priest rolled out a carpet of lion hide. Nine stepped onto it, and the priests began removing his jewelry and loincloth, brushing his skin gently as they did so.

Wearing only a thin undergarment, Nine was practically nude, yet he felt no shame. Being undressed in front of priests and slaves was routine. As the priests wiped down his body with warm cloths, Ru, who was still kneeling in “punishment,” moaned exaggeratedly.

“Lord Nine… my arm hurts…”

Nine scoffed. Ru, who fanned him daily with a massive ostrich-feather fan, had muscles thick and firm. Holding up an arm for a while was nothing. It was clear Ru was just embarrassed to be kneeling like a scolded child in front of everyone.

“Not even my father punished me like this!”

He grumbled, but when Nine raised an eyebrow, Ru quickly changed tone.

“Yes—this devoted servant finds it an honor to receive punishment from Sha…”

Priests continued wiping Nine down, then applied fragrant oil by hand. The pearl-infused oil left a soft shimmer across his skin.

Once he was fully oiled, they dressed him. The loin-skirt, delicately pleated by temple artisans, was soft and white like feathers. A jeweled belt with dangling pendants was fastened over it. One pendant, engraved with a scorpion to match his amber set, featured ruby eyes that glinted. The belt sparkled with stitched gemstones, rich and elegant.

To complete the look, they added a slim golden crown to his head—simpler than ceremonial ones, but studded with large gems and finely crafted lotus flowers. It was so valuable, it defied price.

Gold bangles were added to his wrists and ankles. Altogether, what Nine now wore could have bought a small province. But such luxury was routine for him.

Once everything was in place, Nine sat down. Ru, released from his punishment, rushed to his side and playfully nudged a priest out of the way to take over. Massaging Nine’s feet with fragrant oil, he grinned.

One priest who’d been pushed aside flushed red, only to quickly school his face under Popo’s sharp glare.

“Lord Nine,” Ru cooed, “how about a thin gold band around your thigh? You’d look even more stunning at the banquet. Though of course, you’re always stunning! I’m sure Sha Amon would glance your way even more.”

Nine rolled his eyes but allowed Ru to rummage through the box and slip a gold band onto his thigh.

“If I were you, Lord Nine, I’d be happy every single day.”

As other attendants adjusted Nine’s outfit, Ru kept massaging, using the leftover oil on his own arms.

“I don’t get why you get so gloomy every time a new Resha arrives. You’re always the one basking in the endless glory at Sha Amon’s side.”

His words made some attendants tense up and glance nervously at Nine. But Ru didn’t notice—he was lost in thought.

“More attendants means more blessings, right? If I were you, I’d ask Sha Amon to take twice as many Reshas—”

SLAP.

A sharp sound echoed as Popo’s hand struck Ru’s cheek. His head whipped to the side, eyes wide.

“You’ve grown far too arrogant because Sha has been kind to you! Do I need to cut out your foolish tongue for you to learn respect?”

Ru immediately knelt. His cheek was already turning red. The attendants moved more slowly, awaiting Nine’s reaction.

Popo glared sternly. “Sha, perhaps it is time to discipline him severely and correct his disrespect. How dare he speak as if to challenge your divinity? Flog him until he bleeds—he’ll remember then.”

Nine quietly studied Ru’s face. There was embarrassment there, yes—but not a hint of regret. Popo, too, though enraged, hadn’t outright disagreed with what Ru said.

It hit Nine then—even in his sanctum, even among those closest to him, everyone thought and acted as if Amon were the center of everything.

Of course they did. Amon was the center of Trastasa—the supreme god.

An unclear, heavy emotion welled up like thick mud in his chest. Nine pushed it down, pretended not to feel it.

“Enough. Don’t ruin my mood before the banquet.”

Even though it was already ruined, Nine replied coldly. Ru, brows furrowed, murmured, “Lord Nine…” but Nine ignored him. Once dressed, he boarded the palanquin. Ru followed behind with the fan, looking sullen.

They passed through the First Tower Gate—beyond it lay the most sacred area of the temple, housing the sanctums of Sha Amon and Sha Nine. Surrounded by towering walls as high as palm trees, only the most trusted priests and slaves were allowed entry.

The Second Gate was more open, accessible to Reshas and high priests. From the Third Gate onward, even non-priests could enter with enough offerings and permits. Most banquets were held between the Second and Third Gates, and gods like Amon and Nine would descend from their sanctums to grace the mortals.

Since this monster-hunt banquet was set in the Third Gate sector, the palanquin had a long way to go. Behind it, a procession of priests and slaves carrying lanterns stretched far. Whenever anyone saw the golden palanquin of the Sha, they prostrated themselves in reverence, regardless of rank.

From far off, music and laughter could already be heard. It was customary for lower ranks to enter first, so the hall was already packed. As Nine descended the golden steps from his palanquin, a priest at the banquet hall entrance cried out:

“Silence! Sha approaches!”

Immediately, music and chatter ceased. Nine walked past the bowed heads, ascending a long staircase covered in crimson velvet to the highest seat—an ornate throne placed on a dais above thousands.

Popo and Ru fussed over his jewelry and robes once he sat. A few minutes later, Amon entered last. As Nine rose from his seat, the priest called again:

“Bow your heads! Sha has arrived!”

All guests dropped to the floor. Amon took his seat beside Nine, his chair slightly grander and adorned with more jewels, symbolizing his higher rank. Once Nine sat again, the crowd, still prostrated, chanted loudly:

“We faithful servants greet the Great and Almighty Sha!”

“You may raise your heads.”

With Amon’s permission, the music resumed, and chatter filled the air. Ru stood behind Nine, holding the fan. Popo poured fragrant wine into Nine’s golden goblet.

On the table before Nine were golden loaves of bread, figs, pomegranates, apples, juicy roasts of cow leg and ribs, grilled pigeons and ducks, rich catfish dishes laden with spice—a luxurious feast fit for a deity.

Amon’s table, however, differed slightly. It too was lavish, but among the dishes were several extra vessels—holding not food, but something else.

Refined monster stones shaped into animals and flowers, scattered with spices and tiny gemstones, glittered under the torchlight.