Little Pink Starfish

Even after that, Gwen continued to display not just impressive, but nearly impossible feats: threading tens of thousands of beads in one day, preparing hundreds of fruits and nuts, carving stone plates from rocks, driving out every insect from the sanctuary, removing only the seeds from seeded fruit… and more.

Then came the task of weaving linen cloth. When Nyne saw the fabric Gwen had made—with patterns so intricate they seemed impossible for human hands—he didn’t even feel surprised anymore. That was when Gwen asked:

“But Sha Nyne, is there no reward for all the tasks I’ve completed well?”

“…What?”

Nyne, who’d been watching the priest-weavers slump in despair over Gwen’s product, could hardly believe his ears. Gwen sat politely on his knees, his pretty pink eyes sparkling. It was impossible to rebuke him with, “What have you done well?”—anyone would admit Gwen had done the work of dozens of skilled priests, and done it excellently.

“Since I’ve successfully received the Sha’s education, I respectfully ask for a reward.”

The audacity of the request made Nyne glare at him. Despite all the work he’d done, the real goal—fixing Gwen’s insolent attitude—had failed. In fact, Gwen’s arrogance had only grown. Though the priests said nothing, they had begun to look at Gwen with a strange curiosity. Nyne had even overheard the lamp-tending slaves whispering, “Isn’t that a god’s power or something?”

Biting his lip, Nyne finally thought of a task where, no matter how well Gwen did, he’d have a chance to nitpick. A task inherently subjective. He lifted his chin slightly and gave the order.

“My body feels stiff today. Try giving me a massage.”

At that, Gwen’s eyes went wide—and then he bloomed into a radiant smile like a flower in full bloom. Nyne, momentarily dazed by that smile, heard him say with a bow:

“Thank you so much for this great reward.”

“…What? This isn’t a reward!”

Why does he react like that? How is massaging my body a reward?

Nyne knew only the most carefully selected high-ranking priests were ever allowed to touch his body. Still, he had never regarded it as an “honor.” Even if he was a Sha, he still saw his body as nothing more than a slender male frame. Gwen slowly lifted his head, and Nyne gave a chilly command:

“This is your final task. I will judge from your manner of massage whether you truly serve me with devotion. Understood?”

“I shall serve with all my heart and soul.”

There was a note of contentment in his voice that made Nyne glance at him with suspicion before climbing onto the cool bamboo bed. The priests placed soft cushions under his chest and carefully tied up his hair into a neat bun. They removed his loincloth, leaving him in only his undergarments.

For the first time, Gwen—normally bold and impudent—looked flustered. At the sight of Nyne’s undergarments, he quickly turned his gaze away. Nyne chuckled faintly.

Whenever people from other regions came to Trastasa, they were always shocked and didn’t know where to look. Gwen, who usually wore a kalasiris, was no exception. Foreigners tended to dress far more conservatively, and to them, Trastasa’s fashion probably looked half-naked.

“What’s the matter? You’ve been dressed before, haven’t you? You act like you’ve never undressed in front of others.”

“I’ve never been dressed or undressed by someone else, Sha.”

Never? Then perhaps he wasn’t of such high birth after all? Curious about Gwen’s past, Nyne lay face down. Gwen’s cheeks flushed pink—matching his hair—as he kept sneaking glances at Nyne’s underwear and then averting his eyes.

Nyne’s undergarments were a narrow triangle of cloth that just barely covered his genitals, tied with strings on each hip. Small gold and gem decorations hung from the ends of the strings, and the front bore embroidery in gold thread. It was the typical underwear in Trastasa. Do they wear something different in the North?

The priests brought small bottles of scented oil and fanned the aromas toward Nyne. When he chose one, a large ceramic jar filled with the oil was set before Gwen. While one priest wiped Nyne’s body with warm wet cloths, another trimmed and smoothed Gwen’s fingernails. Once his hands were ready, Gwen poured oil onto his palms. His pale hands soon gleamed, soaked in fragrant oil.

Nyne closed his eyes as Gwen’s warm touch gently grasped his foot. This time, no matter how skilled Gwen was, it wouldn’t matter. Massage was highly subjective—it would be easy to claim it didn’t please him.

And in fact, this time, Gwen wasn’t particularly good. His fingers barely brushed Nyne’s foot, more ticklish than satisfying. He gingerly touched each toe, then slowly stroked the arch of Nyne’s foot. It was far too gentle—Nyne scowled, annoyed by the ticklishness, and turned his head.

“You can’t even get this right?”

“I’m sorry, Sha. This is my first time giving a massage. Please be forgiving.”

Nyne scoffed and lay back down. Finally, he would get to punish Gwen. Even with a poor massage, Nyne was now enjoying himself.

As he thought about what punishment to give, Gwen’s tickling touch moved up to his calves. Using his thumbs, he slowly pressed upward along the muscle lines, delicately tracing the smooth skin around the ankle.

“You have no body hair, Sha? Do you shave?”

“I don’t do such things.”

“Your body is truly beautiful…”

Trying to avoid punishment, Gwen resorted to flattery. Nyne gave him a cold glare as if to say “enough with the pointless chatter.” Gwen smiled faintly and let his hands roam higher. He began tracing the soft crease behind Nyne’s knee, and the sensation shifted from ticklish to something else.

Wait—what is this…?

Gwen’s hands slithered upward like snakes, creeping into Nyne’s inner thighs. The massage felt more like teasing. Then, when Gwen’s curled fingers grabbed at the tender flesh near Nyne’s groin, Nyne suddenly pushed him off and sat upright.

“Are you massaging or trying to arouse me!?”

Furious, Nyne sat up while the priests rushed to wipe away the dripping oil from his body. Gwen, startled, dropped to his knees.

“Sha, please give me another chance—I’ll do better.”

“With hands like that, what do you mean, ‘do better’?”

The priests, sensing Nyne’s mood, quickly fetched the instruments of punishment—not just canes, but also heavy leather paddles, all lined up for inspection. Nyne ran his eyes over them. Then Gwen crept closer on his knees, his expression downcast.

“Sha… I don’t like pain…”

Nyne turned his gaze from the rods to Gwen’s pitiful expression. The arrogance was gone at last. He looked truly pleading. Gwen lifted the hem of his kalasiris to show his calf.

“The wounds on my legs still haven’t healed…”

They look almost healed to me. Nyne slowly examined Gwen’s calves. Aside from faint lash marks, they were pale, well-shaped, and unblemished. Nyne raised a finger and tapped the rods.

“Then I’ll strike your thighs instead.”

“Sha, wouldn’t that hurt even more than the calves?”

“All the better for reflection.”

“I’m already reflecting deeply. Please show mercy, Sha.”

Nyne scoffed but didn’t pick up a rod. After all Gwen had done and seeing his current attitude, Nyne felt a bit lenient. He didn’t particularly enjoy flogging either. Gwen’s insolence had been annoying, but nothing more.

“Will you reflect on your arrogance?”

“Yes, Sha. I reflect.”

Gwen smiled brightly, his expression as fresh as his body. He gently caressed the top of Nyne’s foot, and Nyne pulled his leg back with a mutter.

“I won’t go easy on you next time.”

“I may make more mistakes in the future due to my shortcomings, but I beg your grace and forgiveness, Sha.”

Such cheek, this one… Nyne thought—but despite himself, a faint smile tugged at his lips. Like with Lu, he was beginning to find Gwen’s defiant charm a little endearing. After seeing Gwen faithfully complete every task, Nyne’s fury had faded, and in its place, something faintly like affection was beginning to settle in.