Little Pink Starfish

Whether he was fooled by Ibi’s acting or didn’t care at all, Sa-eon tilted his head as if to say, “Follow me.”
Unable to transform or escape, Ibi had no other choice and meekly followed behind.
The hunter passed the tightly shut side house again and headed elsewhere.

The room they entered, thankfully, looked relatively normal.
Knives were hanging on the wall, but compared to the butcher-like storeroom or the side house with dead yokai and a sacred beast’s head, this was decent.

“Sit.”

Ibi suspiciously eyed the chair Sa-eon offered.
It had some kind of strange stain on it—he didn’t really want to sit.
But as soon as he made eye contact with Sa-eon, he felt pressured and had no choice but to plant himself on the chair.
Trying not to shift too much, he rolled his eyes around as Sa-eon took something out of his pants pocket.
It was a cigarette.
Ibi stiffened.

“This is yours, right?”

Sa-eon questioned him with a blank face while his eyes scanned the knives on the wall.

“Nope.”

Ibi tried to lie again, but then gasped.
Sa-eon suddenly leaned in close.
His face was so near that Ibi worried his neck might get bitten or his eyes gouged out.

Sa-eon whispered directly into Ibi’s ear:

“You… smell sweet.”

A chill ran down Ibi’s whole body, like he had just seen blood.
Sa-eon’s lips were so close that Ibi could feel them brushing the fine hairs on his ear.
He flinched without realizing it.
“You dropped this cigarette. It smells sweet too.”
Sa-eon wiggled the cigarette in front of Ibi’s face.

“Well… yeah… I think I accidentally dropped that one…”

He reluctantly admitted it, but Sa-eon still didn’t back away.
With a focused expression, Sa-eon gripped the chair arm and leaned in close.
He didn’t even blink.
Once again, Ibi’s heart pounded wildly.

“You’re not really a goblin, are you?”

Sa-eon asked with half-lidded eyes, as if he were sleepy—or drunk on Ibi’s scent.
Ibi denied it firmly.

“I am a goblin!”

“In all my life, I’ve never seen a sweet-smelling, day-walking goblin like you.”

As if he’d caught Ibi lying, Sa-eon backed away coldly.
He turned and let his gaze drift over the neatly arranged knives on the wall.
Ibi tried to jump out of the chair, but it felt like his whole body was glued down.
He groaned inwardly.

“I said I’m a goblin! A goblin!”

“A goblin, huh…”

Sa-eon’s voice was flat, but his gaze was sharp—almost murderous.
His white fingers lightly touched and released the knife handles like piano keys.
His hands were covered in faint scars.

Finally, his hand stopped in front of a well-sharpened dagger.
The handle was wrapped in an ominous charm paper.
He gripped the charm and inspected the blade.
Ibi squirmed again but still couldn’t get off the chair.
Only the chair creaked noisily—he had to give up.

Sa-eon dragged a chair across and sat in front of Ibi.
Then he began sharpening the dagger with a whetstone.
Goosebumps spread across Ibi’s whole body.
Only the sound of the blade grinding filled the heavy silence.

“You’re really pretty.”

Out of nowhere, Sa-eon said this while sharpening the dagger.
Even amid tension, Ibi puffed up slightly.

“R-right? I do look pretty…”

“It’d be a shame to ruin that…
So how about you just tell the truth?”

“…!”

Ibi had told the truth—what more could he say?
He cautiously asked:

“If I tell the truth… you won’t hurt me, right?”

“Yeah.”

Oddly, the blade seemed to become more transparent as it was sharpened.
Was it made of glass?
What was that thing?

Trying to sound sincere, Ibi explained his identity.

“I’m not a regular goblin. I’m a kind of rare type—
I can move around in the daytime.
Like… an albino?”

“What’s an albino?”

“Well… you know, the ones born really pale?
Like white snakes… or that white tiger you… killed and hung on the wall.
Like a mutation.”

Ibi got flustered.
He explained all that, but Sa-eon just stared at him with a disinterested look.
Wouldn’t people at least know what a mutation is?

Trying to be even friendlier, Ibi added:

“…And the sweet smell is because, well, I’m a candy goblin.”

“Candy?”

“Uh… I have a glass jar full of candy. That’s my true form.
That’s why I smell sweet.”

Rarely, Sa-eon showed real curiosity.
He stopped sharpening and asked:

“If I lick you, would you taste sweet?”

“No! I wouldn’t! Don’t lick me! I don’t taste sweet!”

Ibi panicked and flat-out denied it.
Were kids these days all this forward? Or was it just this hunter?

Sa-eon tilted his head.

“So you’re a candy yokai?”

“No! A goblin! A goblin! A daylight goblin! A candy goblin!”

Not sure if he agreed or not, Sa-eon hummed, then lifted the fully sharpened dagger.
It gleamed unnaturally, like it had some spell on it.
Ibi tried to stay calm and persuade him.

“Do you need gold? I have lots! I’ll give you some!”

“I don’t need gold.”

Dagger in hand, Sa-eon stepped closer.
Ibi gulped and looked up at him.
His gaze darted between the dagger and Sa-eon.
Sa-eon slowly leaned in, shadows deepening around his eyes and nose.

The transparent blade brushed Ibi’s collar.

“You said you wouldn’t hurt me if I told the truth…”

“There won’t be pain.”

After a pause, Sa-eon looked at the dagger tip and said blankly:

“Maybe just a little sting.”

Ibi looked down and noticed pale scars on Sa-eon’s fingers and hand.
Cuts, bites, tears.
A glimpse of a grim scar peeked from under his sleeve.
For someone who lived such a brutal life, what he called a “sting” was terrifying.

“Just asking…
You’ve let a yokai live before at least once, right?”

“No.”

Sa-eon moved the dagger slowly, like searching for the perfect spot to stab.
Ibi’s hair stood on end.

“Sa-eon…”

Ibi called his name in a pleading voice.
Sa-eon blinked slowly twice.

“You say you’re my fan…
and you’re going to hurt me? Really?”

He looked down, then up again with soft, black eyes.
Putting all his effort into bewitching the hunter, a faint blue aura rose in Ibi’s gaze.

When Ibi tried to seduce people on purpose, they usually lost themselves within a minute.
Sa-eon seemed no exception—his dagger lowered.

The scent that always faintly surrounded Ibi now turned sweeter, thicker.
As if drunk on it, Sa-eon leaned forward and lightly touched Ibi’s hand.

His callused fingertips were rough but firm.
The hand that wouldn’t lift from the chair earlier rose easily in his grasp.

He held Ibi’s palm and gently massaged the soft flesh between his fingers.
It felt weird—like he was being enchanted instead.

Sa-eon pulled Ibi’s hand closer.
The chair creaked as Ibi squirmed.

“Wait, don’t lick—!”

Too late.

Sa-eon licked Ibi’s fingers.
Not just a lick—he sucked them into his mouth and even nibbled on them.

It was the first time anyone had sucked Ibi’s hand so openly.
Flustered, he tried to close his hand, but Sa-eon forced it open.

He licked, sucked, and rolled Ibi’s fingers between tongue and teeth.

“Hnng…”

Ibi let out a weak groan as a ticklish feeling spread from his chest.
Finally, Sa-eon pulled away.
The fingers, drenched in spit, glistened.

Sa-eon leaned in so close, his weight made the chair creak ominously.
Ibi couldn’t say anything.

The man’s breath touched his nose bridge.
He could hear Sa-eon inhaling deeply.

Sa-eon clearly wanted to… taste more of Ibi.
His once-cold black eyes now glistened faintly with warmth.

“You taste good.”

“…Huh?”

Even as Ibi grimaced, his heart fluttered unsteadily.
It was rude—sucking someone’s fingers and saying they taste good.
Perverted, even.

But the look in Sa-eon’s eyes was nothing like lust.
Maybe it was because Ibi had seduced him—
but it wasn’t like any gaze Ibi had seen before.

It was focused.
Like Ibi and Sa-eon were the only ones in the world.
Eyes glinting with subtle heat.

Ibi couldn’t look away.

A strange nausea stirred deep inside.
A hazy feeling of déjà vu.

Sa-eon, like a child with a long-wanted toy, reached out with curious fingers.
He traced Ibi’s cheek and ear.

Eyes half-lidded, he murmured softly:

“I want to suck your lips too.”

“Huh…?”

Ibi replied in a dazed voice, then gulped.

Suddenly, he gasped—
Sa-eon was staring at him with a blank face again.

Looking down, Ibi saw a dagger embedded in his stomach.

When he parted his lips, Sa-eon touched them with a finger and muttered:

“You…”

From the spot where the dagger pierced, heat spread like boiling water.
If “I want to suck your lips” meant kiss,
that was Ibi’s final thought before his vision went dark.