Little Pink Starfish

Ebi, stunned, let out a short scream and quickly shut the suitcase. His heart pounded so fast it couldn’t even compare to when Saeon had stood behind him.

“What… what is this.”

“Look again. Doesn’t the face look familiar?”

When Ebi slammed the suitcase shut immediately, Saeon looked disappointed and urged him to check his “present” again. This crazy hunter… no, no way… really… seriously? Ebi squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his face with both hands. Taking deep breaths, he reopened the suitcase with trembling hands.

Sure enough, it was a familiar face inside. Ebi pulled out the scroll from his chest and compared it. It was the face of one of the hunters who had supposedly been hunting down dokkaebi. Ebi gasped and clutched his chest. The corpse wasn’t what scared him—what scared him was Saeon’s completely unpredictable thought process.

“I tried hard not to get blood on it. You’re scared of blood.”

Upon hearing Saeon say this, Ebi was suddenly reminded of human pet cats proudly bringing home dead mice, startling their owners. The only common ground between those cats and Saeon was: neither knew common human sense, and both occasionally had a cute side. But Saeon’s “gift” was far more horrifying than a dead mouse.

“Is your anger gone now?”

Ebi’s hands trembled at Saeon’s question. Afraid a passerby might spot the corpse, he carefully zipped the suitcase shut and clicked the lock into place. As he tried to calm himself, Saeon somehow looked proud. Ebi held back from telling him not to look proud and calmly began explaining.

“Saeon. I didn’t mean I wanted a dead dokkaebi hunter… I mean, from the start, killing a human like this…”

It was hard to stay calm in front of a suitcase full of corpse. Ebi’s hands flailed, unsure where to start. Saeon quietly held one of those flailing white hands.

“You know… I never said I wanted them dead.”

“Ah. I should’ve brought him alive, huh?”

“No, the point is that you shouldn’t be killing people at all…”

Saeon didn’t seem to be listening seriously. He even rebutted Ebi’s words this time.

“But I’m a hunter.”

Ebi flinched. It was true—Saeon didn’t exactly have a normal job. As he fiddled with Ebi’s hand, Saeon lowered his gaze.

“If I hadn’t killed him, I would’ve died. And why is it okay to kill yokai, but not humans? Yokai kill yokai, humans kill yokai. Yokai kill humans, too.”

“Mm…”

That was… true, actually. When humans killed intelligent yokai, they weren’t really punished. In fact, most people just brushed it off. The world of yokai ran on pure survival of the fittest. Even yokai didn’t see each other as kin unless they were the same species—if you were weak and got eaten, there was nowhere to complain.

“Well… dokkaebi are pacifists, though.”

Saeon gave Ebi a face like he was trying to understand him. But the more Ebi thought about it, the more it felt like Saeon’s way of thinking wasn’t human at all. It was yokai-like.

This isn’t how I should be explaining it… Ethics… morality… Though those were human standards, Ebi felt a strange guilt as he cautiously asked:

“Do normal hunters… kill people too?”

“Normally, no.”

Then you really are the weird one!

Come to think of it, back at the Yayeon, someone had said Saeon killed other hunters too. If even yokai were saying that about him, he must’ve had a record. Ebi said wearily:

“I don’t like it when people are killed and stuffed into a suitcase.”

“I figured. Some yokai like humans. And you’re not just any dokkaebi.”

Why did this completely unreasonable guy sound so… logical? Ebi clenched his fist.

“I don’t like dead people.”

Saeon’s brow furrowed. After glancing at Ebi, he slowly dragged the suitcase toward himself. If only it were full of millet tteok… Ebi thought wistfully, then froze.

“Wait—don’t tell me… there’s two people in there?”

That size suitcase couldn’t fit two bodies unless something was seriously wrong. Ebi remembered how Saeon had a special area in his house for butchering. The expertly butchered meat came to mind. Thankfully, it wasn’t what Ebi feared.

“The other one… I captured, but they escaped.”

“That shouldn’t be possible…”

Saon muttered, his expression blank. A shadow passed through his black eyes as he turned to look at Ebi. He blinked slowly.

“So… I guess you’re still mad.”

“Right…”

Ebi hadn’t even really been angry, but thinking about the delicious tteok made him nod fiercely.

“What should I do to make it up to you?”

Tteok!

“…This is hard.”

Bring me a suitcase full of tteok! Ebi suddenly realized he had unconsciously clasped his hands together and was staring at Saeon with hopeful, sparkly eyes. Saeon rummaged in his pocket and pulled something out.

“How about this?”

It wasn’t tteok. Ebi, disappointed, accepted it—it was a white piece of chalk. He bit it a little, wondering if it was edible. It wasn’t. Just regular chalk.

“Don’t eat it—draw with it.”

Before he realized, Saeon had moved behind Ebi, guiding his hand. Caught off guard, Ebi let him. A faint scent wafted in: a little cologne, some soap, pine. With his chin lightly resting on Ebi’s shoulder, Saeon moved their hands.

White lines traced across the building wall. Curves and straight lines formed a clean shape. To Ebi’s surprise, Saeon drew very well. When he finished, the result was a bird, wings fully spread.

Not only could he make good tteok, he could draw too—such skill. And then the bird flapped its wings. Ebi’s eyes widened. He was so distracted by the flapping chalk bird that he didn’t even realize Saeon had pulled him into a hug and was sniffing the sweet scent on his neck.

Saon drew another bird. The two chalk birds fluttered through the wall and out into the air. As they brushed Ebi’s ears, his eyes sparkled. In 500 years, he’d never seen anything like it. He grabbed the chalk and drew himself.

His own drawings were some lumpy dokkaebi flames and squished rice-cake rabbits. While he was distracted by that, Saeon put a strand of Ebi’s hair in his mouth. He chewed it, tasting it until it got a little damp—only then did Ebi realize something was off. He turned and saw Saeon’s blank expression.

“…Did you eat something?”

“Nothing.”

“…Does my hair taste sweet too?”

“Yeah.”

No wonder some of his hair felt kind of damp… Ebi shifted away. Saeon was too close. His chest and stomach pressed against Ebi’s back—nothing soft there, all muscle. Ebi’s eyes wandered to Saeon’s forearm. Scarred, muscular.

As Ebi tried to pull away, Saeon grabbed the chalk and drew again. Ebi, forgetting to resist, stared at the wall.

At first, he thought it was a jellyfish. Long, flowing tentacles dangled to the ground. But beneath the bell-shaped head were two bulbous eyes. The head poked out like a turtle’s and opened its mouth—it looked like a dragon.

“What’s that?”

“It’s called Jeokgwae. In real life, it’s big enough to cover this whole building.”

It was drawn in white chalk, so it seemed more like Baekgwae than Jeokgwae. The white jellyfish floated over to Ebi, its dreamy tentacles leaving chalk dust trails.

Then it rose like a deflating balloon. Entranced, Ebi looked back—and that’s when Saeon kissed him.

Ebi hesitated to push him away but eventually gave in completely. Soft, warm lips and a slightly aggressive tongue explored his mouth.

Ebi felt himself falling—helplessly, deeper—into this human named Yu Saeon. There was no way to resist this pull. Just yesterday, he had been mad that Saeon liked him as a rare monster, but today, he felt oddly grateful for it.

How unfair and unreasonable a feeling. Ebi’s delicate brows furrowed. Yet even thinking that, his hands tightly held Saeon’s chalk-covered ones.

When Saeon finally let go, satisfied, Ebi panted and asked the one question he’d been wondering about—

“…What’s your phone number?”