Little Pink Starfish

“I put a feather in your hair.”

“…Pardon?”

Nyne, unable to understand, asked in confusion.

“That part caught my eye. That’s all. Since you seem to dislike it, don’t display that artist’s work again.”

“Yes, Sha. I shall obey.”

Osen Iyad’s face looked visibly relieved as he responded promptly. He, too, had probably been uncomfortable with that piece being included.

Curious about the very first painting Amon had seen from that artisan, Nyne moved on from the paintings, sculptures, and ceramics to the exquisite jewelry. Though the sky had dimmed into evening, the corridor was lit bright as day by magical devices, and the gems sparkled under the light. Thankfully, among the jewelry craftsmen, there didn’t seem to be anyone with crude skills like that earlier painter.

The pieces offered for Amon were all stunning—almost dazzlingly beautiful, with impressively large stones. It was a pity that their intended recipient wasn’t particularly fond of such ornaments.

As he browsed, Nyne came to a stop before one piece. It was a set of jewelry themed after a snake—bracelet, anklet, and ring. The snake’s eyes were set with obsidian, gleaming eerily, and its open mouth held a pomegranate-shaped garnet. The mouth was agape as if greedily about to swallow it. Though he’d seen many serpent-themed ornaments, something about this one caught his eye.

Maybe it was the fact that the pomegranate in its mouth resembled a drop of blood—it gave off a strange, ominous air.

“Do you like that one?”

Nyne hesitated. He couldn’t say whether he liked it or not. There was a strange sense of déjà vu about the piece—something eerily familiar. Perhaps mistaking his hesitation for interest, Amon picked up the jewelry and fastened them on him. But they had been made for Amon’s size—the ring spun loosely on his finger, and the bracelet and anklet hung awkwardly.

Moving stiffly for fear of letting something fall, Nyne said, “They don’t fit me.”

“Then I’ll have the artisan adjust them.”

Amon slowly looked over Nyne’s appearance with the jewelry on, seemingly satisfied. Nyne had no idea what he found so pleasing when the sizes were clearly off.

Soon after, Amon seemed to lose interest in the exhibition and casually walked out onto the terrace connected to the grand corridor. Nyne, seeing his chance, discreetly removed the jewelry. One of the priests quickly came to assist.

Pretending to continue viewing the rest of the jewelry, Nyne signaled another priest to come over.

“Bring me the painting that artist previously presented to Lord Amon.”

The priest, quick-witted from long service to the noble Sha, immediately understood what Nyne was referring to. A moment later, two priests returned carrying a rather large canvas.

Approaching it, Nyne saw that it depicted himself and Amon—and its quality was remarkably poor. As he frowned, a priest whispered softly nearby:

“My apologies, Sha Nyne. It seems the piece was accidentally mixed in from a young apprentice. Before it could be removed, Lord Amon saw it and took a liking to it.”

“…I see.”

No wonder it hadn’t seemed like a professional artisan’s work. Now that he knew it was the effort of a young apprentice, Nyne’s harsh feelings softened. Looking again at today’s piece, he could see improvement compared to the old one. It appeared that, after learning Amon liked the original, the apprentice had practiced desperately ever since.

Touched by the child’s effort, Nyne told the priest:

“Give the apprentice an appropriate gift.”

“Yes, Sha.”

Nyne’s eyes landed on the figure in the painting meant to be him. At last, he noticed what the “feather in the hair” had meant. The painted Nyne had a large ostrich feather sticking from his head like a decorative piece—probably the most flamboyant headpiece the child had ever seen.

Having finished viewing the jewelry, Nyne returned to the bedchamber and slept beside Amon.

That night, Nyne had a nightmare in which he was entirely swallowed by a monstrous snake-like creature. From within its belly, he cried for no reason, overwhelmed by sorrow.
When he woke up, sobbing and restless, he was soon embraced by Amon and quickly forgot the nightmare.

Nyne stayed three more days in Amon’s sanctuary before deciding to return to his own. Normally, when he stayed for so long, Lu and Popo waited in his sanctum, since they weren’t permitted into Amon’s. Leaving them to wait endlessly under the scorching sun was no different from sentencing them to heatstroke.

Yet surprisingly, as Nyne exited Amon’s sanctum accompanied by Amon’s priests, he found not Lu and Popo, but Yiwu and Seinka Hoan waiting for him nearby.

“We, your humble servants, greet Sha Nyne.”

Nyne, startled by their polite bow, asked in disbelief:

“Surely… you haven’t been waiting all day?”

“No, Sha Nyne. By Lord Amon’s grace, we were permitted to rest comfortably in his sanctum until now.”

Apparently, even after being assigned as Nyne’s personal guards, Yiwu and Seinka Hoan retained permission to enter Amon’s sanctum. In other words, they were meant to provide constant, close protection no matter where Nyne went.

On his way back to his sanctum, Nyne began to question why exactly those two had been assigned to him.

This must have been Lord Amon’s decision… but why? Is it to keep watch on me?

But if it was surveillance—what was he being watched for? Nyne had never once disobeyed or acted disrespectfully toward Amon.

Puzzled, he looked toward Yiwu, who was the more familiar of the two, unlike the mostly silent Seinka Hoan.

“Yiwu, what did you do before becoming my guard?”

“I served as a combat priest for Lord Amon, Sha.”

Yiwu answered politely, smiling. It was a textbook reply. All warriors guarding the First and Second Tower Gates were combat priests.

Nyne looked at him, clearly wanting a more specific answer. Yiwu blinked, caught on, and added quickly:

“Well… more precisely, I was the commander of Lord Amon’s sanctuary guard unit, Sha.”

Nyne was quietly astonished. Combat priests weren’t just anyone. Though equal in status to high-ranking priests from noble families, the role was also open to commoners, offering a rare path to success.

Naturally, those stationed at the First Tower Gate were elite, and Amon’s personal guard would be the most elite among them—handpicked based on pure skill.

And the First Tower’s guards were known to be chosen by Amon himself.

That meant that Yiwu, despite being a commoner, had become the commander of Amon’s personal guard—he and his superior, the captain Seinka Hoan, must be among the top fighters in all Trastasa. They were far too valuable to be wasted on simply watching Nyne.

“Why would someone of your status… be assigned to me?”

Perplexed, Nyne asked with a doubtful expression. This time, it was Seinka Hoan who responded.

“It may be irreverent to say, Sha Nyne, but the great Lord Amon has no need of help from ones such as us.”

Though spoken calmly, Nyne could detect a nearly fanatical reverence in Seinka Hoan’s voice. Strangely, it also felt like he was including Nyne himself among “ones such as us.”

Nyne didn’t feel offended. He knew well that, aside from his golden eyes, his body was no different from that of an ordinary human.

“Yet by his boundless grace, Lord Amon entrusted me with this sacred duty. I am unspeakably grateful for the honor of serving you, Sha Nyne. So… please do not say such things.”

It was the longest speech Nyne had ever heard from Seinka Hoan. Though he still held doubts, Nyne only nodded. Yiwu glanced at him hesitantly, then asked in a low voice:

“Sha, if I may… are you feeling well?”

“My body?”

Nyne looked down at himself. This morning, as always, the priests had tended to him with care. His skin and hair were glossy and fragrant, his body adorned in gleaming jewelry. He didn’t feel any pain or particular discomfort.

As Nyne looked at him, Yiwu clarified:

“You seem a bit tired.”

“A little drowsy, maybe. I’ll be fine after some more sleep.”

Nyne waved his hand. After the rituals, time always felt hazy—an entire week could pass like a day.

Even so, he sometimes welcomed Osen Iyad’s tiresome rites. They had a calming effect afterward, likely from the herbs burned during the ceremonies.

Yiwu seemed partly relieved, though still a bit unsettled. It looked like he wanted to say more, but after making eye contact with his superior, he quickly returned to his usual expression.