Little Pink Starfish

To ground himself in reality, Ishar curled into himself and repeatedly recalled what was real.

The conversations he had with Veloan after they reunited, the grown strength of his body, the powerful arms that embraced him, the heat of his skin, and the more mature tone of his voice — as he recalled each one, the fear that had crushed his rational mind gradually began to recede.

But then, a single doubt crept in.

What if reuniting with Veloan had been a dream?

What if he still existed on the day he lost Veloan — and the shock had been so great, he imagined the whole thing?

It was possible. He possessed the power to sustain himself within such a delusion if he so desired.

The sound of the rain from that day was still so vivid.

The breath he’d barely managed to take was once again choked off.

What if the reunion with Veloan — that warmth and that voice — had all been illusions born from his guilt?

Then he…

“Master.”

The moment he felt a hand cradle his chin, his consciousness was pulled upward.

That low, deep voice breaking through the world filled with rain was like the sound of a harp, lingering in his ears and seeping deep into Ishar.

“Ishar.”

“Ah…”

The rain that had seemed endless, the faint stench of blood that had started to seep in, the sensation of the dagger in his hand, the pain in his palm where he’d stabbed himself — it all washed away.

Like someone barely able to control his body, he slowly raised his head, and into his field of vision came red eyes laced with silver light.

“Veloan…”

Ishar’s voice, stretched long like a deep sigh, clung to Veloan with aching desperation, never leaving him for a moment.

“Yes, I am your partner, Veloan.”

“Veloan, Veloan. You’re here. You’re really here.”

The breath that had been stuck came rushing out. As clarity returned to his hazy violet eyes, Veloan accepted Ishar into his arms without hesitation.

“Where did you go…? Why did you sacrifice yourself? Why didn’t you call for me? Why, why…!”

“Breathe slowly, Ishar.”

“Did it hurt a lot…? Did you resent me…? Do you know how much I missed you? How much I…!”

Ishar’s voice was filled with grief and self-blame. Veloan quietly watched him, as Ishar frantically touched his face and poured healing magic into him.

This Ishar was clearly different from usual. He was overwhelmed by anxiety and emotion, trembling with fear.

As an emperor, he always tried not to lose his composure — yet now, he couldn’t make a rational judgment about his condition and was deeply shaken.

Veloan easily deduced the cause. His crimson eyes caught the faint trace of ashen energy infused into Ishar’s mana.

The grimoires.

The magical tome in Ishar’s possession had dared to play tricks on him.

The tome that once tried to consume all the Tower’s mages was now sealed by Ishar. But after losing Veloan, Ishar had become unstable, and the seal had loosened slightly.

Not enough to affect others — but enough for the tome to seep poison into Ishar’s mind.

Veloan recalled the medicine Ishar kept at the Antaire estate and reached out his hand.

Ishar clasped it immediately, pressing his cheek against Veloan’s palm like someone overwhelmed with emotion.

“Veloan… keep talking. Please, let me hear your voice.”

“If that’s what you want.”

Truthfully, Veloan wanted to burn the tome to ashes, not merely reseal it. But before that, he had to calm Ishar down.

With a soft voice, he asked, “What should I say?”

“Anything. As long as I can feel you’re really here, anything.”

It wasn’t the usual tone he used when treating Veloan like a child — it was noticeably gentler, with his guard lowered. Veloan liked it, and smiled. Ishar clearly noticed and looked delighted.

“Hm. I’m torn. Instead of talking, there are other ways you could feel me more clearly.”

He mumbled the words and caressed the nape of Ishar’s neck. His hand, clearly intentional, trailed from his back down to his waist, brushing bare skin.

Ishar flinched slightly from the direct touch.

He always slept nude, and Veloan now wore only a thin nightgown — their bare bodies were practically touching. Every point of contact was vivid.

Before, Ishar would instinctively shy away from such touches after they became intimate. But this time, he made a different choice.

Instead of pulling away, he leaned further into Veloan’s embrace, as if there was no safer place in the world.

“Haa… I’m unsure what to do. You showing this soft side isn’t something I get to see often. I kind of want to enjoy it longer.”

“Just don’t disappear.”

The honest words made Veloan chuckle.

“Then,” he said, and slid a hand under Ishar’s knees, lifting him into his lap.

“Let me know if it’s uncomfortable.”

“I’m fine. So, what were you going to say?”

“Of course — about the one I love: you.”

He lightly kissed Ishar’s lips. Ishar’s brows furrowed slightly, as if his senses were returning.

“To me, you’ve always been the perfect teacher, ruler, and an exceptional partner.”

“Leave out the ruler.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to reign over you as emperor. And as for partner… no, never mind.”

When he was about to say “leave that out too,” Ishar saw Veloan’s expression turn cold — and quickly changed his mind.

Veloan understood. If Ishar was able to joke and shift his tone like this, he was mostly back to normal.

And the fact that he wasn’t pushing Veloan away, staying nestled in his lap — he must have liked the position, too.

“Even so, I’m happy you say you don’t want to reign over me.”

He kissed the side of Ishar’s face loudly on purpose, and when Ishar ducked to avoid it, he found it adorable.

Veloan barely held back laughter, then placed kisses on Ishar’s ear and jawline.

“I always admired you — someone who could do everything, who never failed.”

“You don’t admire me now?”

“I still admire you, of course.”

The tension disappeared from Ishar’s face.

“When I was little, I sometimes wondered if you were even human.”

“I am human.”

That piqued Veloan’s curiosity. Ishar didn’t seem to realize it, but he often insisted on his humanity — almost as if clinging to it.

Ever since Veloan learned of Eoris, he had a rough idea why. But unless Ishar said it himself, Veloan wouldn’t treat it as truth.

So he just said:

“I know. Still… I’m happy that someone like you chose to love me, to make me your partner. All the suffering, the hardship, the isolation I endured — if it was all just to meet you, I would gladly accept it.”

Ishar’s lips parted slightly, then closed again.

Veloan could guess what he had tried to say — probably “You’re mistaken,” ready to wound him with cold words.

If Ishar had said it, Veloan would’ve pinned him to the bed and drowned him in kisses. He swallowed his regret.

“Anyway, the moment I realized you weren’t a living god, that you weren’t flawless — it came from a certain memory.”

Ishar’s violet eyes turned toward him, curious. What memory?

Not voiced aloud, but asked with his gaze — and Veloan answered immediately.

“The lullaby.”

“…Lullaby?”

“Yes. Do you remember the lullaby you sometimes sang to me? Back then, you only ever recited the deeds and ideals of Saint-Kings at bedtime. But when I had nightmares, you sang.”

“…That’s right.”

Recalling the first time he’d sung a lullaby to young Veloan, Ishar’s cheeks flushed slightly.

He remembered it vividly — Veloan buried in bed, looking up at him with wide eyes as he softly sang.

That sweet face that had smiled instead of falling asleep.

“You were terrible at singing.”

“…Well, I never had any reason to sing before.”

Ishar, a little embarrassed, still nodded.