Little Pink Starfish

A full smile spread across Ebi’s face. With every light step he took, his happiness echoed loudly. He lifted his hand under the moonlight—white chalk dust on his fingers shimmered softly. Touching his lips, he found a faint smudge of chalk there too.

“Yu Saeon.”

He called the name and smiled, his eyes crinkling sweetly. Yu Saeon. Saeon. He called it again, twice in a row, and suddenly stopped walking. Pulling out his phone, he checked the number Saeon had entered—he stared at it several times. Then a thought struck him, and Ebi furrowed his brow.

“Come to think of it, a hunter did die.”

And one had even escaped after Saeon caught him. If someone Saeon couldn’t hold on to was still out there, could Ebi really catch him? Thinking of how capable Saeon was made Ebi doubtful. He fumbled through his pockets. A decent amount of gold had piled up. Instead of returning to the company, he turned on his heel.

On the way, a rice cake shop caught his eye. Remembering the millet tteok Saeon had given him, Ebi rushed into the shop just before closing. He bought some to give to Arang and clutched it to his chest as he hurried on.

As always, the door opened right as he arrived. Ebi stepped inside without thinking, then paused. His gaze followed something in the empty air.

“Welcome back, Ebi.”

Arang greeted him, waving six tails like fans. Ebi tilted his head and asked,

“Did Igok-nim come by?”

“He came to ask several things.”

The table showed signs of divination—chalk marks remained. Unlike Ebi, who ran to Arang whenever anything happened, Igok usually solved things on his own. He also disliked Arang for being a fox. That he had visited here was unexpected.

‘So even Igok-nim must be worried about the missing dokkaebi, deep down.’

Ebi touched the gold in his pocket. Then what should he ask? He thought it over. Arang never revealed what others had asked or what answers they had received. As a shaman who glimpsed heavenly secrets, Arang was bound by many rules. He couldn’t lie about divinations, and he had to receive compensation every time he read the signs.

“Something smells delicious.”

Startled from his thoughts, Ebi handed over the rice cakes. Arang’s eyes narrowed in a sly fox smile. He soon served the tteok with a sweet floral tea.

“You look like something good happened. Let me guess… is it about that human from before?”

Ebi thought back to what had just happened and bit into the tteok with a bashful grin. After another few bites and some tea, he took out his gold and placed it down.

“I’d like the most useful advice you can give me right now.”

“The most useful advice, hmm.”

Arang brushed the remaining rice cake into his sleeve and pulled out his bells. His white tails swayed. What kind of answer would it be? A hint about the dokkaebi’s location? Or advice about his relationship with Saeon?

The Chilseong Bell rang three times—chalang, chalang, chalang—then trembled with a soft chime. And Arang’s answer was unexpected.

“Ebi, be careful.”

“Be careful? Of what?”

“Your enemy is circling around you. A meticulous one who’s been waiting for a very long time, accumulating karma.”

Ebi blinked. Enemy? In all his life, he’d never really had an enemy. He’d always been a gentle, good-natured dokkaebi who got along with humans and yokai alike. Even if he had an enemy, it would be hard for them to hurt him. Or so he thought—until Arang continued.

“Karma doesn’t vanish after a hundred years or a thousand. It follows even after eons…”

As he spoke of karma, a bitter, regretful light crossed Arang’s eyes. Ebi had seen that same look many times in ancient yokai—those who regretted something, or like Igok, deeply resented something. Arang’s golden fox eyes were full of fondness and seriousness as he looked at Ebi. He lowered the bells and said,

“Since long, long ago, there has been an enemy who harmed your most precious things—and now is coming for you.”

Those words made Ebi involuntarily recall a certain night.

A biting dark night under an absurdly bright full moon. Familiar clothes, familiar hands, familiar eyes—scattered across the ground in pieces. Ferocious yokai howling, weeping, laughing, swarming. That terrible night.

Ebi’s pupils narrowed like a beast’s. A cold glint that wasn’t usually there lit his gaze. Arang warned quietly,

“Beware old ties, my little fox.”

---

Chapter 4: An Old Enemy

The scholar deeply cherished a small dokkaebi. At night he would carry it in his sleeve or on his shoulder as he strolled. By day, he gently cradled its cracked bottle like a sacred relic. Like all dokkaebi who are loved under sunlight, moonlight, and human affection, the blue flame of the dokkaebi slowly grew in size.

One day, after sunset, the scholar returned home to find the dokkaebi had taken human form. It had transformed into a beautiful and elegant figure—resembling the scholar, its only and dearest human.

Overjoyed, the scholar gave the human-shaped dokkaebi a name: Ebi.

---

“So, Ebi. Are you trying to pick a fight with me?” So-wol asked brightly.

“What? Why would I do that?”

Ebi’s gaze subtly avoided hers as he spoke. So-wol grabbed his cheeks with both hands—smack—making his pupils tremble.

“If you’re innocent, look me in the eye and say it! You’re totally trying to seduce humans, aren’t you?!”

“No way!”

Ebi stared her in the eyes as he answered—but they were a little too wide open. Soon he blinked gently and slowly backed away, muttering:

“I don’t mean to… but if I’m so good-looking and pretty that it happens unintentionally, what can I do…”

“Don’t even start!”

Today, Ebi seemed to glow softly from head to toe. His light brown eyes gleamed warmly, cheeks pale, lips and eye corners elegantly tinged red. His outfit looked luxurious and neat.

Naturally, it caused a stir at the broadcast station. People stumbled, stammered, or froze at the sight of him. Fans burst into tears or fainted after making eye contact.

Obviously, it was on purpose. He wanted to seduce the human named Yu Saeon.

“Why are you bullying Ebi?” Dongjitdal grumbled.

“What, now you wanna fight with me too, not just Ebi?” So-wol shot back.

While they bickered, Ebi quietly pulled out a small, flat box from his pocket—like a cigarette case. He opened the metal case wrapped in cloth and touched the chalk inside. Carefully, he drew on the lid. A puffy little cloud floated out of the wall and hovered over his palm.

Ebi clearly understood the situation: Saeon was chasing him simply as a rare monster to hunt, while Ebi liked him—and waited. Left alone, one day Saeon might succeed and turn him into some kind of “candy goblin.”

If Saeon liked him as a monster, then fine—Ebi would seduce him completely. If Saeon became obsessed, maybe he’d eventually like him back. Many who’d been bewitched by Ebi still loved him even after the spell wore off.

So this… is first love, I guess.

There was no trace left of the dokkaebi who once scolded Arang, asking if love at first sight was even real. Now he thought of nothing else: how to capture the heart of the human he liked. He wanted to be alone with him, to hold hands, to be liked back.

The dokkaebi who had loved humans but never loved one had fallen into the pure fantasy of first love. His cheeks flushed. He kissed the chalk and smiled softly. So-wol, still punishing Dongjitdal, sighed deeply.

Before she could say anything, Ebi’s human manager returned from his errand. With a regretful face, he apologized.

“Biwon-ssi! I’m so sorry—were you waiting long?”

“No, not at all. I didn’t wait much.”

So-wol answered instead of Ebi. Today, she planned to minimize his contact with humans. The manager blinked but smiled brightly.

“Your schedule’s done for today. Do you have any plans afterward?”

“Um, I was thinking…”

“He’ll go straight back to the company to rest.”

Ebi opened his mouth to protest, but So-wol’s stern face left him no choice. He stood up, looking around.

Where was Saeon watching from? Or… maybe he wasn’t there at all?