Little Pink Starfish

Thwip!
With a sound slicing through the wind, the arrow struck the target—just slightly below center. Luga gasped in awe.

“To hit the target on your first try… truly magnificent, Nyne-nim.”

“But it wasn’t dead center.”

Disappointed, Nyne frowned. Luga quickly shook his head.

“Most people can’t even hit the target at all on their first attempt!”

A bit intrigued by archery now, Nyne nocked another arrow. He realized that while he’d aimed well before, the shot had landed slightly low. Taking a deep breath, he drew the string tight. When he released it, the arrow shot forward—this time hitting almost dead center.

Wanting to maintain his focus, he didn’t pause and nocked another arrow immediately. This one struck the exact center. He was starting to get the feel for it. Strangely, every movement felt natural to him. After hitting the bullseye five times in a row, he set down the bow and said,

“This is too easy. Move the target farther.”

“Yes, Sha.”

The apple-sized target was reduced to half its size, then again to a quarter. Still, Nyne kept hitting the center. Save for one shot that slightly missed due to a breath thrown off, he hit bullseye after bullseye. His fingertips stung, and feeling the heat, he looked around and noticed a stunned silence.

The Reshas stared with wide eyes. Luga’s mouth hung open.

“Nyne-nim… are you sure this is truly your first time shooting a bow?”

Unable to take his eyes off the arrows lodged in the bullseye, Luga glanced at Popo, who had served Nyne the longest. Popo, signaling for a cloth to wipe Nyne’s sweat, replied with a voice full of reverence and affection,

“This is indeed the first time Nyne-nim has held a bow.”

While the attendants gently wiped his sweat, Nyne fiddled with the bow. He, too, couldn’t recall ever using one. And yet, it all felt strangely familiar. Still puzzling over this, he took satisfaction in the Reshas’ genuine admiration and sat down.

“I’ll rest. You all continue practicing.”

“Yes, Sha.”

Though it was only arm movement while standing still, his muscles ached slightly. As he sipped cool wine, the Reshas took turns shooting. Some, like Luga, who had a hobby for hunting, were skilled. Others needed instruction from the battle priests.

Among the Reshas, Luga shot best—but even he couldn’t consistently hit the bullseye. Those trying for the first time often missed the target entirely, arrows falling mid-flight. Nyne found this oddly fascinating. How can this be so hard for them?

“Iyu, what do you think of my skill?”

“Honestly, Sha? You looked as though you’ve spent your whole life shooting arrows. Truly impressive.”

Seeing the sincere admiration on Iyu’s face, Nyne felt he wasn’t just being flattered. The realization that he might have a talent for archery pleased him. A soft smile tugged at his lips.

He thought back—aside from playing instruments, he’d never truly learned any craft or skill. Even then, the priests had fawned endlessly over his musical ability. Perhaps it wasn’t just flattery, after all?

Shaking his head slightly, Nyne called Iyu again.

“Is there a more difficult target?”

“If you wish, shall we release a hunting practice bird?”

Nyne wasn’t fond of blood—whether from humans or animals. When he didn’t respond, Iyu quickly changed his approach.

“The birds can be quite challenging. Perhaps a mid-level target first?”

“Mid-level?”

Iyu’s suggested “mid-level” training involved using the battle priests. They would toss sand-filled targets into the air for Nyne to shoot.

Nyne wondered if these hard-trained warriors would feel disheartened being reduced to target throwers. But there wasn’t a hint of dissatisfaction. In fact, they thanked him for the honor of serving in trembling voices. Nyne felt vaguely uneasy.

Still… even battle priests are priests in the end…

As he nocked another arrow, Nyne was reminded again how deeply fanatical the temple’s priests truly were.

Hitting a moving airborne target was definitely more difficult. He missed a few at first but soon began landing hits mid-air. After three consecutive strikes, just as he was starting to feel exhilarated, Popo spoke up, eyes carefully on his hands.

“Nyne-nim, your hands are starting to blister. Perhaps it’s time to rest.”

Looking down, Nyne saw his skin reddened and puffed from the bowstring. His arms and shoulders felt sore, likely to ache later. Reluctantly, he set the bow down. He hadn’t fallen or been hurt in his life before—pain like this was unfamiliar.

Despite that, he felt good—perhaps from the rare outdoor activity. He thought he might enjoy practicing like this again. He himself felt fine, but the priests fluttered about in a panic, horrified at the sight of his delicate fingers being bruised. They began wrapping his hands in cool towels, fretting.

“No, I don’t want it. Ointments are sticky…”

He fended off their attempts to apply ointment and bandages by claiming he was hungry—an extremely rare admission from him. The priests began to grow anxious. Physical activity really had whet his appetite.

That evening, even the breeze was comfortably cool. As he rode back to the sanctuary in his palanquin, a patch of pink flowers in the garden caught his eye. Seeing that color brought Lan Gwen to mind.

I should visit him again, at least once.

His own doll looked lonely on its own. A matching Amon doll would make a nice pair. And perhaps Gwen’s figure could sit nearby—along with ones for Luga, Popo, and Iyu…

A soft smile crept onto Nyne’s lips.

That was when he arrived at the sanctuary—and a priest was already waiting. At first, Nyne assumed he had come from Amon’s sanctuary. After all, it had been some time since he last saw Amon, and he had expected to be summoned soon. But the emblem on the priest’s robes belonged to Yeonhwa Hall.

“A priest from Yeonhwa Hall? What brings you here?”

With a polite smile, the priest bowed and delivered his message with the utmost respect.

“Sha Amon has summoned Resha Gwen to his sanctuary.”

The rumor spread like wildfire through the Great Temple—Resha Lan Gwen, summoned to Amon’s sanctuary. No one dared speak it aloud, but it reached ears like Iyu’s, known for his extraordinary senses as one of the top battle priests.

“Sha Amon has taken Resha Gwen into his chamber…”

“Seems he finally intends to take a Resha. The High Priest was reportedly overjoyed.”

“They say Sha Nyne was furious and punished several people…”

So much for training. Now they’re just gossiping like birds in the morning, Iyu thought bitterly. When he made his presence known, the chattering battle priests froze, shocked. Their wide eyes told the story.

Half their panic came from not sensing Iyu at all. The other half—from being overheard by the infamously volatile superior they secretly called “the mad dog.”

“Well, well. Look at this mess.”

“C-Captain!”

They leapt to their feet and stood at attention. Iyu smirked as he slowly circled them, and the young men stared straight ahead, lips trembling.

“Mere servants, and yet you dare whisper so blasphemously about the Sha? You’re supposed to be the guards of the tower gate, and this is what you do?”

Each time Iyu tapped one of them with the tip of his sword sheath, they flinched. All of them had, at some point, been thoroughly beaten and broken down by Iyu. Now, facing their predator again, their breaths grew shallow.

“What, did you offer your devotion to the gods as cat food? All of you, walking the path of heresy, is that it?”

His sarcasm turned their faces bright red. Sweat beaded on their foreheads. Over the years, Iyu had crushed them with pure skill so many times, they no longer dismissed him for being a commoner. But still—deep down, the humiliation burned.

Which was just how Iyu liked it. Knowing they hated being outdone by a commoner gave him a thrill—a wicked little spark that made him grin with satisfaction.