Little Pink Starfish

Ibi didn’t rush inside right away but flew around the house several times, circling carefully.
From the outside, it looked like a big, ordinary, and… quite old tile-roofed house.
No—very old.
Honestly, if it got any more run-down, it could be called a haunted house.
And not just because it was old—
it was filled with so much yin energy that it was clear ghosts or yokai would love it.

That made it even more suspicious.
Despite this heavy yin energy, the mountain around was strangely quiet.
Following the hunter all this way, Ibi hadn’t even seen a single ghost hair.
This made things tricky.
He had planned to catch a nearby ghost or yokai to ask about the hunter.

Ibi cautiously perched on top of the tile wall.
He tiptoed along the wall, peeking inside.
The hunter had definitely just entered, but there was no sign of life inside.

Ibi had never lingered so close to a hunter before.
He had lived all his life under Igok’s overprotective care.
This hunter was the first real hunter he had ever seen.
Until now, all he had heard were warnings from Igok and Sowol: “Be careful of humans.”

Still, maybe the two goblins were in there.
What to do…?

After some hesitation, Ibi decided to explore inside.
He flew to the edge of the roof’s eaves, trying to guess where the hunter might be.
But as he looked around, he grew more confused.

‘Does someone really live here?’

Everywhere, it was just dust, rotten leaves, and broken, crumbling old things.
Dust was thick on the wooden floor; wasp nests and swallow nests clung under the eaves and pillars.
It didn’t feel like a place someone lived.
It felt just like an abandoned house.

‘Why are there so many old things…’

Broken jars, cracked ceramic bowls, rotting wooden frames—
they all looked decades old.

Flying near a rusty sickle covered with yin energy, Ibi flinched.

‘This thing’s almost about to become a goblin!’

He started wondering if this wasn’t just an abandoned place after all—
but then he found a large storage building.
Its wooden door, with a shiny, often-used handle, was half-open.
After checking around, Ibi carefully peered inside.

The next moment, he was so startled he flew far away in a panic.
His tiny heart pounded wildly.

Inside the storage, raw, red meat hung from hooks, stretched out in rows.
Sharp knives and tools, clearly for butchering, lined the walls neatly.
Was blood dripping from the meat? Or not?

Just imagining it sent chills all over Ibi’s body, and his mouth filled with sour saliva.
He swallowed nervously and cautiously peeked again.
After a while, he realized—there was no dripping blood, just well-prepared cuts of meat.

Ibi, sticking out just his head from the doorway, looked carefully inside.
Some meat was drying in the cool air,
while some still looked freshly bloody.
Glancing aside, he saw cut animal heads, peeled skins, and bones stacked together.

‘This… isn’t just animal meat.’

As he looked more closely, Ibi stiffened in shock.
Hanging by a red rope was a giant rat.

It was the very same Sosaengwon he had seen being strangled by the hunter that night.

From this storage, Ibi could feel the savage brutality and emotionless murderousness of the owner.

A normal human would have fainted at the sight.
Holding his breath, Ibi decided he had to leave immediately after checking if the missing goblins were here.
It was clear—not all hunters lived like this…

Just as he was exiting the storage,
something dark and shadowy suddenly covered his body.

Before he could react, he realized—
he had fallen into a loosely woven net.

Ibi froze.
Then he frantically flapped his wings.
The gaps were wide enough for his small body, but he couldn’t escape.
It was definitely a net woven with magic.

While he struggled, a silent shadow loomed over him.
Ibi froze again.

The hunter was standing right there.
This time, he wasn’t wearing a mask or hoodie—
his face was fully exposed.

Backlit by the sun, his shadowed face looked down, his pupils emotionlessly reflecting a quiet killing intent.
Ibi, with his little black eyes wide open, gasped tiny puffs of breath.
The hunter reached out and casually lifted Ibi, still trapped in the net, and carried him inside the storage.

Ibi let out a sharp chirp, fluttering his wings noisily.
But the hunter ignored it and placed him down on a dark-stained wooden cutting board.

Ibi tried not to imagine what the stains were.
Next to the board lay a sharp knife.

“Tch… they all fall for this stuff,”

the hunter muttered lazily.
As if implying that Ibi had been lured in by the meat.

“Chirp… chirp chirp.”

Ibi panicked, trying to act like a regular bird.
Maybe fooled by the act, the hunter tilted his head blankly.

“You’re… a pretty handsome sparrow.”

Really?
Ibi briefly closed his beak, thinking,
“Hunter, I’m not a sparrow, but you’re good-looking too.”
He chirped innocently.

The hunter slipped a finger through the net and gently stroked Ibi’s cheek and neck.
The touch was so skilled, soft, and pleasant that Ibi concluded the hunter must be a bird lover.

“Because you’re good-looking… you’ll probably taste even better.”

Ibi’s half-closing eyes shot wide open.
What kind of bird lover is that?!
Good-looking or not, sparrows would taste the same!

“Should I grill you? Or make soup?”

Please don’t ask me that when I’m the main dish…
And honestly, how much food can you make out of one tiny bird?

Then came the scariest line:

“If the sparrow’s actually a monster, then whatever the dish, it’ll taste even better.”

Saying so, the hunter picked up the knife.

Ibi, eyes wide like saucers, watched the hunter spin the knife skillfully in his hand,
then sharpen it against a whetstone with a slithering sound.

Once satisfied with the sharpness,
the hunter pressed down hard on the net, pinning Ibi to the cutting board.
Without hesitation, the blade aimed for Ibi’s tiny neck.

Ibi, in a panic, shouted:

“Wait a second!”

The descending knife stopped.
The hunter stared blankly at him—
as if thinking “A monster that talks?”

Under his shadowed face, with indifferent eyes,
a slight flicker of interest crossed.

Ibi calmly started negotiating:

“Let’s talk it out.
Sorry for sneaking in!
If you let me go, I won’t do it again!”

“If you die, you’ll never do it again, even more surely.”

He had a point, but still!

It seemed impossible to escape like this in bird form.
Since the hunter said he was a fan, maybe if he knew Ibi was the actor Ibiwon, he would show mercy.
But Ibi hesitated.
He didn’t want to expose his human form so easily,
especially since he was a public figure.

Should I just brace myself and give up my neck?
But if he took too long to revive, actor Ibiwon might get into trouble…

While hesitating, the hunter suddenly put down the knife.
He examined Ibi closely again, tilting his head.
Even now, his face was pretty handsome.

“What kind of monster are you?”

“Not a monster, a yokai!
I’m a bird yokai.”

Flapping his wings to get free, Ibi answered steadily.

The hunter flipped him over and checked between his legs.
Ibi internally screamed.

No matter how innocent the touch seemed,
even as a bird, that was a sensitive spot!

After checking without care, the hunter said casually:

“Usually, bird yokai have three legs.”

“I did have three!
But my middle leg got cut off!”

The moment the words came out, Ibi regretted it.
Middle leg sounded weird.

“So this is a transformed form.”

Ignoring Ibi’s excuse, the hunter grabbed the knife handle.
With a sudden bang,
the cutting board and net split, cutting part of Ibi’s wing feathers.

Startled by the sharp sound, Ibi gave a small hiccup.

Are all hunters this crazy-scary?

The hunter pulled Ibi out of the net,
gripping his wing tightly between his fingers, examining closely.
His breath tickled Ibi’s soft feathers.

He carefully inspected the color, shape, length of feathers—
but soon tilted his head again.

“Still can’t tell what you are…”

Ibi’s tiny heart pounded hard.
The hunter pressed his thumb against the moving chest.

Then, he grasped Ibi’s neck as if to wring it—
but loosened his grip slightly.

“If I spray blood, I’ll know.
Monsters react somehow to human blood.”

“What? No way!”

Ibi frantically struggled.
But the hunter’s grip was like a noose.

If it meant getting his neck twisted or cut, so be it—
but blood was absolutely out of the question!

“I’m a goblin! A goblin!
Don’t use blood!”

“…Goblin?”

“Yes! A goblin!”

Even though he confessed the truth,
the hunter’s expression didn’t change.

He tilted his head again and asked suspiciously:

“A goblin with a missing middle leg?”

“No!!”

Ibi was a proud, handsome goblin with both legs intact!

“But I’ve never heard of a goblin who can move around during the day.”

Ibi opened his beak, then froze.

Right.
He had been so used to living naturally in daylight,
he had completely forgotten this basic goblin rule.

It made sense the hunter wouldn’t believe him.
It sounded exactly like nonsense about a “daytime goblin.”

Moreover, he couldn’t transform into goblin-fire during the day either.
That form was only possible at night.