Little Pink Starfish

“Your Majesty, I… I must have misheard. Could you please repeat that?”

Blaine, who had only just regained his composure, now looked on the verge of passing out again. Rewil muttered, “Surely not…” and asked hesitantly, his voice trembling.

“Could it be… is Lord Veloan’s gender… female?”

Even as he spoke, Rewil’s jaw dropped, as though the very idea had just shattered his worldview. Ishar let out a sigh.

“Of course not.”

“Then… how, exactly…?” Blaine stammered. “I mean, even among the collateral families, I know better than anyone that there isn’t anyone suitable to—”

“There are ways.”

“…Of course, Your Majesty.”

“Do you wish to be beheaded?”

“My apologies!”

Fixing Blaine with an icy stare, Ishar waved his hand dismissively.

“The rest will be announced during the state council. As for the heir—he will have a legitimate imperial bloodline, so there’s no need to worry.”

Blaine and Rewil fell silent, eyes flicking to and fro. Though they didn’t speak, their expressions were filled with visible confusion and disbelief. Ishar ignored it.

“Law Minister, compile and summarize every case and law—imperial and continental—regarding same-sex marriage and succession rights. Finance Minister, draft the full budget plan for the consort’s elevation ceremony. The deadline is before the council session. And until then, everything discussed here is strictly confidential.”

Though they absorbed the emperor’s orders reflexively, the two ministers were still reeling. The tone of Ishar’s voice made it clear—this wasn’t about a concubine or secret child. No, the truth was something else entirely… and far beyond their current understanding.

“We obey, Your Majesty.”

---

Ishar stared wearily at his feet.

The blue-white flowers blooming beneath him sparkled like morning dew, beautiful and vibrant in the magic garden—a space only the emperor could access.

On another day, he might have taken the time to appreciate their beauty. Not today.

Recently, he had returned all of Veloan’s magic to him. The flowers bloomed more brightly in response to his regained power, but Ishar barely noticed. His thoughts were too heavy.

“How do I say it…?”

Veloan would arrive soon—after all, Ishar had summoned him. But even as he waited, his mind was tangled with worry.

“Is it right to say anything at all? Could I just… not? But what if it’s something that weighs on Veloan’s heart? In that case, it’s better to be honest before we marry.”

Especially lately—Veloan, preparing for their marriage, had been actively raiding the secret vaults of Duke Superzen and other nobles who had been sentenced to death. “We’ll need retirement funds,” he had said, almost cheerfully.

He was wholeheartedly preparing for a future with Ishar. Which made Ishar’s turmoil all the more difficult.

“Haa…”

He slumped into a nearby chair, rubbing his face with both hands. At one point, he nearly clawed at his own hair—but caught himself, thinking of Veloan.

“Even if I tell him… what then? What if it hurts him deeply? I’ve prepared to comfort him, but if the shock is too great, it won’t matter. What if… this was all a mistake?”

The more he thought, the heavier the weight of doubt and anxiety became, choking him.

Then—warmth. Something gently covered his eyes. Ishar, startled, tensed at the sudden presence.

But as soon as he sensed the familiar energy, he relaxed.

“Do you know who I am?”

A soft voice coiled gently around his ear. That one voice—so loved, so familiar—made him smile.

“Cute.”

Fighting the corners of his lips, Ishar chuckled to himself. “As if I wouldn’t know. And yet he plays these little tricks.” His heart thudded.

“Guess, Ishar.”

When Ishar didn’t reply—just smiled—Veloan whispered again, this time from just above his head.

Ishar had intended to answer honestly, but suddenly felt a mischievous streak.

“Hmm. I don’t know.”

“Truly?”

The hands over his eyes twitched. The voice was sad—wounded—but Ishar had grown too used to Veloan’s theatrics to be fooled.

“Who dares blind the eyes of the emperor? Answer me, lest I judge you with the full might of imperial law.”

A soft laugh followed. Then a weight settled on his head.

“Oh dear. That would be terrible. Who could possibly blind your eyes and live?”

“My consort, of course.”

“Then that’s a relief. I happen to be your consort.”

“Not convinced.”

“Then what must I do to convince you?”

“If you were truly my consort, you wouldn’t be talking like this.”

“Then I must do as my emperor commands.”

The hands slipped away from his eyes, one trailing down to his jaw and lifting his chin.

Ishar tilted his head back slightly, and Veloan’s lips pressed against his brow.

They scattered light kisses over his face—cheeks, eyelids, the bridge of his nose—like falling petals. Then, finally, his lips.

They kissed slowly, warmly. Their tongues brushed lightly, sharing quiet breath. After a moment, Veloan drew back.

Still holding his jaw, Ishar brought his hand up and kissed Veloan’s fingertips.

“Do you know who I am now?”

Though it was clearly playful, Ishar could hear the hope beneath the teasing. Pressing a firm kiss to the back of Veloan’s hand, he answered in a mock-imperial tone.

“Of course. You’re the one who will be consort of this empire—the one and only Veloan, my only partner.”

“Yes. That’s me, Ishar.”

Grinning ear to ear, Veloan settled beside him, pulling Ishar gently into his arms. Ishar leaned against him, smiling softly.

“So? Why did you summon me? I’m happy to be with you, but… I heard you skipped lunch. Is something troubling you?”

The way Veloan stroked his hand and looked at him—filled with worry—made Ishar swallow back a sigh.

Veloan had been busy—helping Glenn, the only surviving member of House Superzen, and managing the political chaos.

“Even so… he’s still thinking about me.”

It made Ishar’s heart flutter. He turned and took Veloan’s hand.

“Yes… there’s something I must tell you. Something serious, Veloan.”

“Please. Tell me anything.”

Looking into his beloved’s sincere face, Ishar’s long-held hesitation melted away. It was time.

“He deserves to know.”

As he steeled himself, Veloan looked at him curiously and asked:

“Ishar… is this by any chance the same thing you’ve been agonizing over for the past four months?”

Four months. Ishar’s eyes widened.

Because he was right.

It had begun four months ago—after that fateful day when Ishar had confessed his love and begged to be loved in return.

“…Yes.”

“I’m relieved.”

“…Relieved?”

“Yes. As your partner, it hurt to watch you keep it to yourself. I’d decided that if you didn’t tell me by the end of this week… I would find a way to get it out of you.”

The way he said “find a way” made Ishar flinch. Veloan’s eyes glinted, and Ishar knew exactly what that meant—he would’ve coaxed it out of him in bed.

“Thank the gods.”

He was truly relieved. Because ever since their relationship had changed, Veloan had jumped at every opportunity to touch him.

And Ishar had surrendered almost every time.

“The problem is… it was nearly every single day.”

Not just at night, but mornings, breaks, meeting rooms, the training hall—anywhere they were alone.

If things went on like this, Ishar feared he might die not from pregnancy, but from sheer exhaustion.

“…So, what exactly have you been agonizing over?”

As Ishar sat recalling the past, Veloan’s warm breath and voice brushed his ear.

The sound sent a rush of heat to Ishar’s cheeks.

“It’s…”

But when it came time to speak—he hesitated.