Little Pink Starfish

Groups of young nobles wandered in clusters along the roadside. Their guards followed behind, faces visibly weary.

Other people bustled about, attending to their own business. Though the streets were noisy and full of life, Veloan remained silent.

Just as Ishar began to wonder if he might be genuinely angry—

“All right. I’ll grant your request. I’ll be busy for a while anyway.”

“Is something urgent?”

When Ishar looked over in surprise, Veloan wasn’t looking at him—he was staring straight ahead.

“Yes. Now that the dragon hunt is over, it’s time to hunt humans.”

Hunt humans? Was he talking about absorbing humans with high mana to grow stronger?

Ishar’s startled reaction must have been obvious in his trembling purple eyes. Veloan shook his head and clarified.

“I mean I’m going to hunt the humans who cooperated with my ‘mother’ and ‘father.’”

His calm tone didn’t match the eerie undercurrent in his voice, nor the faint smile on his face.

“Whether they meant to or not—if they were even slightly involved, I’ll find them. I’ll make sure they die in agony, miserable and broken. I know you’ve already hunted some of them, but there are plenty who slipped through the cracks.”

His red eyes had darkened to near black.

“The one I’m most looking forward to… is the mage who created my collar.”

Veloan clutched the front of his shirt—where the evidence of Ishar’s sin lay.

“What hurt me most as a child was the magic carved into this necklace.”

Ishar’s throat tightened. Veloan, eyes burning like violent waves, turned back and looked at him—suddenly realizing he had stopped walking.

“I never saw the full magic formula. But I remember what my father said when he put it on me: ‘It was made for you by that person.’ Jishka always called them by name, so there must have been a third party.”

Letting go of the necklace, Veloan stepped closer to Ishar.

“I’ll find them. I won’t kill them right away—I’ll make them pay for their sin. Until their final breath. No—even after death, I won’t let them go. If they feel even a shred of guilt—”

He touched Ishar’s face gently, fingertips brushing pale skin.

His red eyes glowed with embers—as if hidden in long-dead ashes, a flame had begun to grow again, emitting dangerous heat.

“They won’t dare think of running from me.”

---

Early the next morning, Ishar awoke but didn’t move. He had no strength—physical or mental.

His mind was still frozen at the moment he heard Veloan’s words—the confession brimming with hate.

He couldn’t remember what he’d said or done afterward. Only that he desperately tried not to show his turmoil.

What am I going to do…?

He raised a hand over his eyes. Darkness filled his vision, and the urge to hide within it, to stop thinking altogether, overwhelmed him.

Ishar already knew that Veloan would search for the mage who created his collar—for him.

The original novel had gone the same way. So… had Veloan figured it out?

It wasn’t clear. If Veloan truly knew Ishar was the creator, he wouldn’t have issued a warning—he would’ve acted immediately.

He would’ve choked him then and there. And Ishar wouldn’t have resisted.

If there had been even a flicker of murderous intent in those red eyes, Ishar might’ve been certain.

But all he’d seen was a love too deep to fathom.

Even if Veloan didn’t know yet, it was only a matter of time. He had Jishka in his hands—and Jishka had worked with Karsha. He had to know the magic.

“Ishar.”

As if sensing his awakening, Veloan entered the bedroom.

Ishar, still lying like a corpse, lowered his hand and sat up.

Then the faint scent of blood hit his nose. He instinctively looked for the source.

“You’re injured?”

“No.”

“Then what, did you butcher a beast at dawn? The smell clings to you.”

“My apologies. I tried to wash thoroughly, but some must linger. I’ll use a cleansing spell.”

“No need. As long as you’re not hurt.”

Ishar got out of bed, tightened his robe, and walked slowly toward the mirror.

Sunlight poured through the open window, illuminating him. His silhouette showed through the thin fabric.

…Why’s he looking at me like that?

Ishar noticed Veloan staring at him with a heated gaze, and a chill crept up his spine.

Like a beast watching its prey—intense, fixated, and burning.

Ignore it. That’s best.

He slouched into the chair in front of the mirror and roughly combed his hair with his fingers, looking for a tie.

“I’ll brush it for you.”

Veloan had approached without him noticing, holding a wooden comb and a ribbon.

“I’m about to shower.”

“You only wash your face in the mornings, don’t you? That makes this the perfect time. Ishar, please?”

He saw Veloan’s pleading expression in the mirror.

It was an act. The way he instantly beamed and began brushing when granted permission confirmed it.

Even his lies aren’t annoying.

Maybe it was the expression—or maybe just the happiness that radiated from him while brushing Ishar’s long blue-white hair.

“I killed Jishka.”

The words hit like a blow.

Ishar’s fingers clenched in his lap. Even Veloan’s brief glance at his hands made his chest tighten.

“His mind was completely broken. I had held back with the magic, but I guess he was weaker than I thought.”

Veloan’s fingers brushed Ishar’s ear, then slid down his neck. The touch was gentle, but Ishar shivered.

As he gathered the hair into a single ribboned bundle, his hands stayed kind, without malice or anger.

“He did ask about the collar. But he kept rambling, begging for his life, so I killed him. If you need the body, just say so.”

“…No. That’s fine.”

Had Veloan really gotten nothing out of him?

Ishar knew both the current Veloan and the Veloan from the novel. He couldn’t shake the suspicion that Veloan knew and was pretending otherwise.

Why else would he act like this?

To bind me.

Everything they’d said since arriving here pointed that way.

Even the collar Veloan had left behind strengthened that possibility.

The same collar containing Ishar’s binding magic.

If Veloan had figured it out ahead of time and planned to trap Ishar—make him unable to leave—it all fit.

Thoughts split like branches, diverging in dozens of directions before all converging on the same conclusion.

And it terrified him.

No. Veloan isn’t the same as the one in the novel. The one I raised—he’s smart, but he’d never dominate someone’s mind like this.

But another voice in him whispered:

Why mention that yesterday and then tell me Jishka is dead? It’s a warning. He knows. He’s saying: don’t run, make me your Empress.

Ishar’s breath caught.

If his guess was right… when had Veloan started loving him? And why?

Maybe he mistook salvation for love—maybe he was brainwashed by his own belief.

*But what if it *is* real love?*

Would this Veloan become like the one in the novel?

Ishar had loved, protected, and taught him to prevent that.

If everything Veloan did was calculated, then it felt like all of Ishar’s efforts were in vain.

No… It wasn’t in vain. He’s like this because I raised him well. That must be it.

Ishar tried to shake off his despair.

Maybe he was overthinking it.

If Veloan had truly turned out like his novel counterpart, he wouldn’t be so subtle—he’d force his will.

“Ah—!”

“Sorry. Did I startle you?”

Veloan hugged Ishar from behind and gently bit his neck.

Ishar gasped before he could stop himself.

The hands that soothed his chest afterward were, disturbingly, still full of affection.