Little Pink Starfish

As the priests, stained with the blood of beasts, danced in joy, the wide-eyed stares of the dead looked up toward Sha. Even in death, their bodies offered as sacrifice, their gazes were filled with loyal reverence.

Seeing that, Nyne’s palms began to sweat and his stomach churned. At moments like this, he wished his senses were dulled. If his sight and hearing were hazy, perhaps the horror would feel more distant.

Clenching his jaw and staring straight ahead, he endured. Popo gently wiped the sweat from his brow and whispered just loud enough for only him to hear.

“You are doing remarkably well, Lord Nyne. Each time, you become more dignified and devout. Sha Amon will surely be pleased.”

Hearing her warm words, Nyne gave a faint nod. He clenched his fists tightly, unable to muster any appetite even with fragrant dishes laid before him. Then he suddenly felt a gaze and turned his head—Lan Gwen was staring directly at him. Caught in a moment of fear, Nyne’s pride stung, and he clenched his teeth.

Even though a Sha was glaring at him, Lan Gwen calmly held his gaze for a long moment, then turned away. He leaned toward the Lesha seated beside him—Ossen Iyad’s nephew—and said,

“Lesha Jibaya, I have a question.”

Though he spoke quietly, Nyne’s sharp ears caught it clearly. It was only now he learned the nephew’s name was Jibaya. Already irked by Gwen’s presence, now seated so close and drawing attention from Sha Amon, the beautiful Jibaya replied irritably.

“Focus on the ceremony, Lesha Ran.”

“Lesha Jibaya, the correct form is Lesha Gwen, as Gwen is my given name.”

Jibaya shot him a look that said, Ran or Gwen—what does it matter?

“Then go and change your name to Gwen Ran.”

Nyne, who had occasionally enjoyed the petty bickering between Leshas, found himself more focused on their exchange than on the dreadful ceremony. Jibaya turned away coldly, but Gwen pressed on.

“Does Sha Amon truly care for Sha Nyne?”

Jibaya, who had been sipping wine with dignity, choked. Nyne dropped the date fruit he’d been holding in disbelief.

“I-I apologize, Sha.”

The priest quickly dropped to his knees, as though Nyne dropping the fruit was his own fault, and swept it away with his sleeve. Another priest presented a gold-leafed date on a small dish.

A purple stain spread across Jibaya’s white linen robes as he coughed. Finally calming, he stared at Gwen in shock—his expression asking, Why would you say such blasphemy to me?

“W-What did you say?”

“Oh, did you not hear? The drums are loud. I said, does Sha Amon really—”

Jibaya, instinctively glancing toward Sha’s seat, turned pale as he realized not only Nyne but even Amon, who had been watching the priests grill meat for the crowd, was now looking in their direction. Panicked, Jibaya cut him off.

“Such blasphemous words, Lesha Ran!”

“Lesha Gwen.”

“Lesha Ran. Sha Amon granted Sha Nyne divine blood, flesh, and a pure soul. The devoted priests and slaves serve Sha Nyne with priceless offerings and delicacies—all because Sha Amon cherishes his consort dearly.”

Fearing Nyne would be punished—or worse, beheaded by Amon—Jibaya spoke in a rushed stream. But Gwen only tilted his head curiously.

“Still…”

“Lesha Ran—Lesha Gwen, I mean—this is a sacred ceremony. Could you please hold your tongue?”

“In my opinion…”

Jibaya, desperate, shoved a large grape into Gwen’s mouth. To everyone’s surprise, Gwen chewed a few times and swallowed the entire fist-sized grape effortlessly. As Nyne and Jibaya stared in disbelief, Gwen, as if nothing had happened, spoke clearly.

“Sha Nyne seems to dislike… things like this. The cruelty, I mean.”

Jibaya’s jaw dropped. He instinctively looked toward Nyne.

Though Nyne tried hard not to show it publicly, everyone who served him closely knew that he hated the sight of blood. His lashing of Lan Gwen had been an exceptionally rare event. Even priests avoided punishing anyone in front of him.

This attitude of Nyne’s was frowned upon by those close to Amon. In some ways, it was even considered heretical. But no one dared speak against him openly—he was Sha, and more importantly, Amon’s only beloved consort.

Now Jibaya was drenched in cold sweat, unable to lift his head toward Sha’s seat. Nyne, too, was flustered. He clenched his fists and glared at Gwen. Is this his revenge for the whipping I gave him? Regardless, Gwen continued.

“If Sha Amon truly cherishes Sha Nyne, and if Sha Nyne dislikes this kind of thing…”

“Sha does!”

Jibaya, voice raised slightly, glared at Gwen in a mix of fear and fury.

“Sha Amon deeply values these sacred rituals and finds joy in them. Therefore, Sha Nyne, who shares his divine essence, must also enjoy them.”

Despite his efforts to steer the conversation back on track, it was too late—Amon had taken a clear interest. He turned toward Nyne, who had gone pale, and asked,

“Nyne, I’m curious. Is it truly as Lesha Lan Gwen says?”

Nyne hesitated, lips trembling. Amon’s face wasn’t unkind, but… it lacked understanding. Perhaps because he was a god, he often couldn’t read human expressions or emotions. Nyne forced a smile and replied,

“No, Sha Amon. How could I dislike the sacred rites? Lesha Lan Gwen must be confused—he’s still new and doesn’t know much.”

“Is that so?”

Amon tilted his head and looked between Nyne and Gwen slowly. Something unreadable stirred in his golden eyes. Amon’s misunderstanding often brought trouble—and now was no different.

“But even after years, you don’t seem entirely accustomed to it. What if you decided the final act of today’s ritual? Didn’t you say the boat ride was more enjoyable?”

At his signal, Ossen Iyad, smiling politely, knelt and offered Nyne a knife made of gold and encrusted with gems. Nyne accepted it, but its weight felt overwhelming. His whole body began to stiffen.

“Sha Amon… forgive me, but…”

Nyne forced a smile. His clenched fingers twitched.

“I dislike the blood of lowly things. Isn’t it… dirty?”

“Well, there’s no need to stain your hands, then. Have the priests do it.”

Amon spoke as if suggesting a lighthearted game to a child. His tone was that of someone saying, Why not step on those ants for fun? It’s quite amusing. Nyne took a deep breath and lifted the blade. His vision went dark for a moment, then slowly returned. He called for Amon’s high priest.

“Ossen Iyad.”

“Yes, Sha Nyne. Command me, your faithful servant.”

Nyne inhaled deeply to fight the urge to vomit. It’s just the same as always. The ceremony goes on as usual—I only add a few words. They were doomed anyway. It’s not my fault they’ll die…

Repeating this over and over, Nyne finally gave the command.

“Offer the flesh and blood of two servants to Sha.”

“Yes, Sha Nyne. As you command.”

Two young men and women, drugged into docility, were led up the stairs by the priests. Their faces glowed with rapture, feeling no fear. They bowed deeply before the altar, brushed aside their hair, and exposed their necks willingly. The warrior-priests raised their axes and brought them down.

Hot blood splattered across the altar and flowed down the steps, forming what looked like a narrow, red carpet. Nyne’s mind grew faint watching it. Interpreting his reaction in his own way, Amon smiled with satisfaction and kissed his temple.

“Well done. It was quite pleasing to see…”

Amon murmured, stroking Nyne’s hair. He kissed his cheeks, his forehead, then bit down on the opal adorning Nyne’s headdress, shattering it between his teeth. The sound of it cracking in Amon’s mouth sounded to Nyne like his own bones breaking.

Normally, Nyne would have been numb with shock until they returned to the sanctum—but this time, fury brought him back to his senses faster. He slowly opened his eyes, clenched his jaw, and glared down at the pink-haired Lesha seated below him—Lan Gwen, who calmly sipped his drink, eyes on the blood-soaked square below.

Lan Gwen…

Forced into doing what he didn’t want, Nyne’s anger had found a target. His gaze trembled with fury as it burned into Gwen’s head.