Little Pink Starfish

“You’re misunderstanding this!”

“Oh? A misunderstanding, you say? And what exactly have I misunderstood, Master?”

Ishar was so flustered, he didn’t even notice that the hand that had been touching his face had slipped lower—from his neck to his chest.

In his entire life, Ishar had never been this bewildered.

The disciple he had believed dead had returned alive—stronger and more magnificent than ever. But now, that very disciple was suddenly calling himself the Empress and flirting shamelessly with his teacher.

Who in the world could stay calm in a situation like this?

And yet, thanks to his ten years of experience as Emperor, Ishar managed to find the most reasonable option.

“Let’s talk. But first… can you release these restraints?”

He had caught the flicker of something cold in Veloan’s red eyes when he’d said the word misunderstanding, and so his tone naturally softened to persuasion.

First, I need my body free. Then I can respond properly—wait, why is his hand still on my chest?

A dreadful realization struck Ishar—there was no chance this conversation would go anywhere in his current condition.

Besides, the more Veloan touched him, the more visibly flustered he got—how in the world could they have a serious conversation like this?

“Veloan. Please remove my restraints.”

“Mmm. That’s going to be a problem.”

“…Why?”

That meaningful smile Veloan wore sent a chill crawling up Ishar’s spine.

Don’t tell me he actually wants to keep talking while I’m like this? Of all people, Veloan should know no proper conversation could happen in this state—misunderstanding or not.

“If I remove them now, you’ll be in a lot of pain, Master. You know your body’s a mess—your aura and mana are completely unbalanced.”

“…”

“The restraints are suppressing the flow of mana inside you. That’s the only reason your aura has calmed.”

No wonder Veloan had been touching his chest so much. He was checking Ishar’s condition using magic.

Even if his hand was… a bit too sensual for such a clinical task.

“I’ll be fine. Just release me.”

Ishar had experienced this pain several times before when transferring mana to Veloan. And with his disciple right in front of him, he was confident he could bear it without showing weakness.

“Master, I don’t want you to suffer because of me anymore.”

“Veloan, you’ve never caused me any pain—”

“Mana.”

Veloan suddenly gripped Ishar’s chest, directly over his heart. The pressure wasn’t overwhelming, but enough to make Ishar suck in a breath. The hand quickly relaxed.

“I know now.”

The smile was gone from Veloan’s face, and in its place was something distant—almost unfamiliar.

Ah… I see.

The disciple before him had grown harder, more mature, sharpened like a blade forged through a thousand tempers.

All of it—during the time Ishar hadn’t been there.

And that was when Ishar realized, with a quiet pang, that he might never fully understand Veloan again.

“So, Master. Rest for a while. I have some things to take care of. I’ll wake you when it’s over.”

Veloan turned his head slightly as he spoke—toward where Zischka was still frozen. Ishar quickly protested.

“No! I’m fine. I’m really fine. I won’t complain, no matter what you do to that man. I don’t want to sleep.”

He raised his voice, resisting. But Veloan’s large hand gently covered his eyes. Ishar shook his head fiercely, trying to knock it away.

“Stop. Veloan, stop! Don’t think I don’t realize you’re trying to cast a spell on me. Take your hand off me!”

“Don’t worry, Master.”

“Veloan!”

“When you wake up, I promise—I’ll be right here by your side.”

“……!”

Veloan had seen straight through him.

“I’ll prove then that this isn’t a dream. Just trust me and rest.”

Though this reunion had been bizarre, bewildering, and full of chaos, Ishar was still afraid. Afraid that when he closed his eyes and opened them again, Veloan would vanish like a dream.

That was why he hadn’t blinked once—why he hadn’t looked away from him.

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“You promised. Don’t break it. I didn’t raise you like that.”

“Of course. Besides, I’m your consort. Your Empress-to-be. It’s only natural I stay by your side.”

“That’s a misunderstanding—”

He couldn’t even finish the sentence. Strength drained from his tongue first, and then his limbs. Sleep hit him like a crashing wave, overwhelming and unstoppable.

Just before he slipped fully into unconsciousness, Ishar let out a helpless smile at Veloan’s shameless trick of using sleep magic before he could argue further.

So… it’s really not a dream, huh…

The firm arm supporting his back, the familiar warmth pressed close, and the gentle mana cocooning him like down feathers—none of that could exist in a dream.

So Ishar stopped resisting and surrendered to sleep.

As he fell completely limp in Veloan’s arms, the younger man leaned forward and kissed the lips that had parted slightly in slumber.

---

The expedition party that had descended into the Abyss returned safely to the Imperial Capital.

The wide road that stretched from the far edge of the city to the Imperial Palace was completely filled with their procession.

Neither Lasmos nor Tphros had appeared. Though there were the usual injured, not a single person had died.

No matter how skilled the expedition forces were, the Cvyule Unit was usually wiped out during a campaign. But not this time. And that was entirely thanks to one man—Veloan, Ishar’s one and only disciple.

Master, I’ve returned.

Veloan, who had led the vanguard and earned the highest merit over the past six months, stood at the front of the procession. And there, he smiled radiantly as he embraced Ishar.

Ishar was deeply moved, seeing how tall and strong his once-small disciple had grown.

The boy who once looked like a cross between a chickpea and a kidney bean was now bigger than Ishar.

His physique was tall and solid, clearly trained and honed. He now stood higher than Ishar, who had to lift his head slightly just to meet his gaze.

Instead of Veloan running into his arms, Ishar found himself leaning into Veloan’s chest—an odd reversal.

Still, he was so glad his disciple had returned safely that he kept stroking his face with joy.

Welcome back. I’ve kept up with your reports, but I worried about you. You’ve never been one to show pain, even when suffering.

I’m fine, Master. But now… please keep your promise.

Of course. I’ll fulfill it right away. I’m so grateful you returned alive… whatever you wish, I’ll grant it.

You said it clearly.

A mysterious smile crept onto Veloan’s now mature face.

It was so beautiful that Ishar couldn’t help but stare. Then, all of a sudden, Veloan slipped an arm around Ishar’s waist and pulled him close. Ishar’s eyes widened.

…When did the surroundings change? We were in the audience room, so why am I in the Levantenor Palace?

Levantenor Palace—a place an emperor may only visit twice in their life. Once, to wear the imperial coronation crown. And once again… to take an empress.

He looked around in a daze. But it didn’t seem like a coronation. The atmosphere wasn’t austere—it was festive.

An overly large court orchestra played lively music. The palace hall was decorated with jewels, statues, cloth, flowers, and crystal—clearly a celebration.

How many years of budget does this cost?!

Just as Ishar panicked and turned to call over the nobles sipping champagne—

The scenery changed again.

Same hall, but now he was seated at the head of the table—in the emperor’s seat.

He looked toward Rekayan in the distance, and a curiously red-eyed Shuzel, about to ask them what the hell was going on.

And that’s when someone placed their hand gently atop his.

Without permission.

Shocked by the audacity, Ishar turned to scold them—and froze.

Seated beside him was a stunningly beautiful man.

The problem? Ishar knew him very, very well.

Long golden hair tied back neatly. Crimson eyes curved gently with affection. And a soft, loving smile.

It was Veloan.

To make matters worse—he was wearing the imperial tiara and circlet, reserved for the Empress, which Ishar had thought would never leave the vault during his reign.