Little Pink Starfish

Ebi came into the house looking somewhat agitated. The fox could smell dried bamboo leaves and another unfamiliar scent on the goblin. His usually neat hair was all over the place, and his beautiful, delicate face clearly showed he was in a bad mood. His white brow was furrowed, and though he tried to smooth out his expression, the fox noticed and instinctively softened his gaze.

“Arang, I brought back all the silver Buddhas.”

Ebi handed over the bag with a smiling face. Arang took out the fused-together silver Buddhas. One of the Buddha faces that hadn’t fully melted still wore a menacing expression. But after turning it around once to inspect it, Arang’s face turned pale with fear. The old fox gave a gentle smile.

“All seven are here. It must’ve been hard to catch them—how did you manage?”

Despite Ebi’s effort to smile, his expression faded at the question. He paced around a bit, then transformed into his fox form and leapt into Arang’s arms. As Arang disapprovingly looked at the messy fur, he asked,

“Why are you in such a bad mood?”

“You already know without me saying…”

“But I want to hear you say it yourself.”

Ebi sighed deeply. He ran his paw through the tangled fur, but dissatisfied, Arang pulled a comb from his sleeve. It was an antique comb made of jade.

After hesitating whether to speak, Ebi eventually opened his mouth under the gentle, soothing combing. After all, he couldn’t talk to Igok or Dongjitdal about the hunter. Sowol wasn’t much for deep conversation either—only Arang always listened to Ebi’s worries.

“I recently met a hunter… At first, I thought he was the one who took our kids, so I followed him.”

As Ebi recounted what had happened, Arang sincerely combed out his fur. The red fur, untended after all the running around in the bamboo forest, gradually returned to a fluffy, healthy state. Arang especially focused on brushing the tail.

“So that’s why my little fox was feeling so upset.”

“There, there,” Arang said, stroking Ebi thoroughly. As Ebi relaxed like freshly steamed rice cake, Arang pulled out a sweet gangjeong from his sleeve. He broke it into pieces and held it to Ebi’s mouth, who licked it with his tongue and chewed it up.

“Rub here too… and here…”

Feeling a little better, Ebi rubbed his head against Arang’s palm and whined like a child. Arang obediently petted him all over. Eventually, Ebi perked up his ears and wagged his tail lightly. That’s when Arang gently asked,

“But Ebi… usually, you don’t get upset like this, do you?”

“Hmm?” Ebi lifted his head from Arang’s thigh, confused by the comment. Arang smiled warmly.

“Think carefully. Why exactly are you this upset?”

While scratching lightly under Ebi’s chin just enough to feel nice, Arang spoke. Ebi, nose pressed into the sleeve of Arang’s robe, recalled the past events.

Humans had always chased after him, but ever since he started working as the actor Ebiwon, the number of humans obsessed with him had skyrocketed. Those bewitched by Ebi treated him as if they were madly in love, ready to give him their liver and gall. When Sowol would snap them out of it, some got angry, while others coldly turned away as if nothing had happened.

There were also countless humans who stalked him without being bewitched. In today’s terms, stalkers. Some threatened to kill or kidnap him, sent corpses of dead animals, or mailed red-painted, torn-up photos. And of course, there were plenty of malicious commenters too.

Yet Ebi had never truly been offended by any of those humans. He had encountered plenty worse than Saeon, and still, humans were always lovable and cute to him. Even ones who chased him with knives.

But only Saeon had managed to truly upset him. For the first time in his long life.

Ebi stayed silent for a while. He scratched at Arang’s thigh with his black front paw for no reason until Arang picked him up. He placed the small fox on top of his soft, white tail laid across his lap, then patted him thoroughly. Ebi’s little black nose twitched until finally, he opened his mouth, pouting.

“Is falling in love at first sight even possible?”

It was a voice filled with frustration. His now-fluffy tail flicked back and forth in irritation. Ebi almost added, “Especially just me?”—but held back.

“Of course. So many humans and yokai in the world fall in love at first sight.”

Arang, who had lived even longer than Ebi, knew more stories and had a broader view of the world.

“Because the tail is fluffy and nice, because their eyes are a pretty color, because they’re wearing a color I like, because they’re listening to music I also listen to… That’s how connections happen. For reasons that seem trivial.”

“I heard that people fall in love because they’re fated to.”

“Most of the time, it’s because of connections from a past life. Though of course, connections can also form over time.”

“But I don’t have a past life, so that wouldn’t apply to me.”

Ebi spoke petulantly and curled up. A moment later, he drooped his ears, looking downcast. Arang tried to lift his spirits.

“I understand. From what I’ve heard, it was enough to upset you. That hunter was a bit…”

After a pause, Arang asked carefully,

“How old is that hunter, anyway?”

Ebi thought about Saeon’s age. He didn’t seem that old. Judging by how socially awkward he was, probably not even thirty.

“Maybe… early twenties?”

“If he’s that young, it makes sense he’d be impulsive and ignorant.”

“True, being around twenty is still very young. No wonder he doesn’t know anything.”

Though he said that, Ebi’s little black nose wrinkled in displeasure. Saeon was strangely likable for a human, but maybe that was why the grudge wouldn’t fade. Still, he was a hunter—maybe it was only natural he acted that way. Humans love other humans, not rare monsters.

“Anyway, what do the hunters who took the goblins look like?”

Not wanting to talk about Saeon anymore, Ebi changed the subject. He grabbed Arang’s white tail with his black paws and laid his head on it. The fur was silky smooth.

“I drew them while you were off retrieving the Buddhas.”

Arang pulled a rolled-up scroll from his sleeve and spread it out in front of Ebi. It looked blank—but when you looked closely, drops of black ink began to appear, forming human shapes. Before long, a finely detailed portrait of a man and a woman looked back at Ebi.

“These are the hunters you were looking for.”

Arang gently smoothed a crease on the scroll as he spoke kindly.

🍬

“When you see people like this, avoid them no matter what. Got it?”

Ebi waved the scroll as he firmly instructed. The young goblins tumbled around on the floor, chirping back in high-pitched voices like baby chicks, “Yeeees!” In their goblin flame form, they had no eyes, so it was impossible to tell if they were even looking at the scroll. The older goblins were no better. After one glance, they were already back to binge-watching dramas.

Ebi let out a deep sigh and let his arm holding the scroll droop. Honestly, he hadn’t expected much. Goblins were generally scatterbrained, fond of humans, and lacked discipline. Put nicely, they were innocent like children—put bluntly, they were fools easily tricked by humans. Their stubborn curiosity meant Igok always had a hard time managing them.

Back in the days when goblins were hunted, there was no effective solution. Without control, they disappeared one by one until Igok stepped in. They had been born from human contact—so it was impossible to ask them to stop liking humans.

A hunter like Saeon could probably catch goblins as easily as picking them off the ground.

Remembering how effortlessly he’d subdued the face-stealing tree and the silver Buddhas made Ebi sigh again. He could only hope these hunters were less skilled than Saeon.

“These are the hunters?”

While the other goblins were carefree, Dongjitdal showed interest. He stared intently at the portraits without blinking, trying to memorize them. Ebi knew it wasn’t out of concern for the goblins—but to assess if he might be in danger from them.

“Dongji-yaa.”

Ebi pulled Dongjitdal close and leaned his cheek on his shoulder. His well-groomed brows drooped in a sad curve. The young goblins who had been playing on his lap and shoulders squealed and scattered when Ebi got close to Dongjitdal.

Dongjitdal, thinking Ebi was upset about the hunters, furrowed his brow darkly. His thick eyebrows twisted in a threatening way.

“Don’t worry. If any shady guys show up, I’ll tackle them before they can do anything.”

If Sowol or Soil heard that, they would’ve thrown a fit and absolutely forbidden it.

Ebi, still sulking at Dongjitdal’s side, eventually flew off as a tiny bird and fluttered over to the human staff. The small bird, barely a handful, tilted its head near keyboards and mice, causing the staff to freeze in surprise. Ebi demanded pets, let them take pictures, and even got snacks—receiving plenty of affection.

But his mood still didn’t quite lift. This time, he flitted to Igok, who was by the window smoking lotus-leaf tobacco. He flapped right next to his ear, nibbled his lobe with his beak, snuck in and out of his sleeves—being a total nuisance. Igok ignored it all. Only when Ebi landed on his finger and chirped did he finally place him in his palm and pet him.

Even if he seemed indifferent and cold, the King of Wandering Spirits was always kind.