Little Pink Starfish

“…Even if it’s not for my own life, I hope Your Majesty does not collapse over something like this. Lord Veloan would not want that either.”

Saying this, Rekayan took out a new pair of gloves identical to the ones Ishar was wearing. He gently removed the blood-soaked gloves and personally put the new ones on Ishar’s hands.

Then, carefully folding the bloodied gloves, he quietly slipped them into his pocket. Ishar looked at Rekayan, incredulous at how he was still making the most of the situation.

But then, suddenly, he realized something.

The whispers of impulse that had shaken him, the headaches, even the stormy turmoil of his aura and magic within—everything had settled, as if it were all a lie.

“I won’t say thank you.”

“Of course not. This was the path I chose myself.”

“But I will say this… I have not once regretted making you my witness.”

It could not be anything less than the highest praise. Overjoyed, Rekayan forgot the situation and grinned widely.

The stupid look on his face clearly showed how proud he was of himself, delighted by Ishar’s words.

“Seeing you smile like that, I don’t want to look at you anymore.”

“I can’t help it. Your Majesty is everything to me! I’m Your Majesty’s subordinate, slave, and trash bin! How could I not be happy when you praise me like this!”

Whether his exaggerated chest-pounding was calculated or genuine pride was hard to tell at the moment.

Ishar rose to his feet, holding Veloan’s box in his arms.

“This place is done. We return to the palace.”

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

“But first, take out that glove you just put in your pocket and burn it.”

“Burning it… You mean it’s trash, don’t you? Your Majesty, to me, this is a perfectly acceptable piece of trash… I was going to cast preservation magic and keep it just for myself.”

“If you’d rather burn than the glove, be my guest.”

“I’ll burn it.”

Whoosh. Without hesitation, Rekayan took out the bloodied glove and burned it completely, leaving no trace behind. Ishar turned and walked out of the tent.

‘As Rekayan said, I am a sinner.’

Now, he had added the sin of sending his disciple to certain death and not even being able to retrieve the body—a foolish and cold-hearted master.

---

The nobles gathered in the Grand Assembly Hall all glanced subtly at the Emperor, pretending otherwise.

With his hair neatly tied back, his face expressionless like a mask, and his ceremonial uniform layered perfectly, the Emperor looked flawless and noble, as always.

They tried to catch even a flicker of emotion on his face.

This emergency meeting was called over a matter deeply connected to the Emperor himself.

Even such a cold-blooded Emperor, they hoped, might show some emotion, and so many could not take their eyes off him.

“The number of those who died a glorious death for the Empire in the Abyss is 672. The injured number 231, and there is one missing person. Today, we will discuss compensation for the dead and measures against the unprecedented monsters that have appeared.”

Since the Great Wall was built, subjugation squads had been sent into the Abyss every year, but never before had there been such devastating losses.

Until now, most of the casualties were criminals sent in with the Kvyule Division, and their deaths were barely acknowledged with summary rites.

But this time, the atmosphere was entirely different. People from all classes had died—members of mage corps, knight orders, noble volunteers, mercenaries, and even priests who had volunteered to heal.

Among them, the most shocking was the death of Veloan, the Emperor’s one and only disciple.

Officially, he was listed as the sole missing person, but all the nobles in the room knew he was dead.

No one could survive falling into the Abyss and return.

Moreover, the Emperor had personally gone to the site and searched for a week. Yet he found nothing—so even if unspoken, all were convinced this was a death without a body.

Tsk tsk. Someone clicked their tongue while scanning the list of names that had been distributed.

One noble frowned upon seeing a family member’s name.

Others looked through the list with sympathy, while some saw it as an opportunity to squeeze money from the Empire and their eyes gleamed with greed.

“Xenia! Ah…!”

One noble, who had lost a family member, couldn’t hold back and began sobbing, instantly darkening the already tense atmosphere.

Prompted by those tears, a few others who had been barely holding on began to cry silently.

Some nobles, understanding the unbearable weight of losing a loved one—enough to disregard political appearances—had their aides hand out handkerchiefs.

Count Elzev, who was awkwardly watching the scene and unsure whether to proceed with the meeting, brightened at the sight of Duke Riccione raising the speaking feather.

“Duke Riccione! Please speak.”

“It seems difficult to continue the meeting in this state. Why don’t we hold a moment of silence for the fallen before proceeding?”

Duke Riccione looked to Ishar. Ishar, who had been silently observing the weeping and those comforting them with his unreadable violet eyes, slowly tilted his head and spoke.

“Some of you are genuinely mourning the fallen. But to my eyes, some are here for… other reasons.”

At those words, a few of the weeping nobles trembled or stopped breathing. It was only for a moment, but Ishar and a few other sharp-eyed nobles witnessed it clearly.

“Even so, I agree. As Duke Riccione said, let us take a moment of silence for the fallen. Very well. Ten minutes of silence, then we resume.”

“Thank you for Your Majesty’s mercy.”

“Then… we shall begin the moment of silence.”

At Count Elzev’s words, the silence began.

Though the sound of sniffles occasionally broke it, no one dared to react. Most nobles, while pretending to observe the silence, kept their eyes on Ishar.

Ishar did not bow his head. Instead, he reviewed a document urgently brought by one of his aides.

His expressionless face held only the usual businesslike coldness—none of the sorrow expected of someone who had lost a beloved disciple.

Despite the fact that the disciple he had raised like a son had died, Ishar appeared utterly unchanged.

Seated nobles felt a mix of awe and a chill run down their spines.

That he could remain so composed after losing someone so dear—some began to wonder if the Emperor truly was a divine incarnation of Eoris.

To them, his disregard for such a “petty” human death made him seem more god than man. Some devout nobles even clasped their hands in prayer.

Ten minutes passed. The silence ended, and the meeting resumed as planned.

“According to Imperial law, when a soldier dies in wartime, compensation must consider the family background, original profession, and magical aptitude. I believe the same standard should apply here.”

“Agreed.”

The compensation discussion began smoothly, but as time passed, something went awry.

“Sir Barthe was a highly promising knight—destined to become a Swordmaster. Accordingly, we should add 1,000 gold coins to his compensation.”

“Then Sir Sterzan should receive the same. No—more. His magic was crucial to the retreat. With talent like his, he could’ve become at least a Wizard.”

“That’s absurd…!”

The nobles began speculating wildly about the “futures” of the dead, inflating their value to demand more compensation.

Despite Ishar’s earlier warning, their greed overruled their sense of decency.

“Order!”

When the atmosphere reached a boiling point, Count Elzev’s shout silenced the room.

Those who belatedly noticed the Emperor lowering his hand were startled. Ishar looked down at the belatedly obedient nobles with icy eyes and spoke.

“I asked you to hold a meeting, and here you are running a business.”

“A business? Y-Your Majesty, that’s too harsh…!”

Someone spoke up bravely. In principle, everyone had the right to speak freely in the Assembly—but a few nobles frowned at this open reproach of the Emperor.

Yet Ishar showed no sign of displeasure—not even a furrowed brow. Instead, he smiled, a charming curve of his lips.

“Count Hensiad. You lost your second son in this subjugation, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. He was a boy I cherished deeply, a gem I raised in memory of my late wife.”

“And yet, you were the one who pushed your gem of a son into the subjugation force.”

“My son volunteered! He wished to repay even a fraction of Your Majesty’s boundless grace!”

“Five thousand.”

“…!”

At the number Ishar uttered, Count Hensiad turned pale.

As those in the hall began to realize what the number meant, Ishar continued.

“The debt you owe at the Versina gambling house.”

“T-That’s not true!”

“Strange, isn’t it? That the compensation amount you demanded from the beginning just happened to be exactly 5,000 gold coins.”