Little Pink Starfish

The carriage ride was pleasant—for exactly one day.

By the second day, Nyne had grown tired of the repeating scenery—forest, riverside, water, boats. He tried reading a book, but even that made him feel nauseated, so he had to set it aside quickly. Nodding off was only entertaining for so long. He wanted to hear something interesting, but everyone riding with him was the type who avoided chatter.

At lunchtime, Lu quickly picked up on Nyne’s sullen expression as they disembarked. While the priests prepared the meal, Lu approached with a box in hand.

“Lord Nyne! You must be terribly bored in the carriage, right? After lunch, why not use this to pass the time?”

“What is it?”

Nyne opened the box with curiosity. Inside, neatly separated into compartments, were wooden and metal trinkets. Some were in pieces, others twisted together in complicated loops. He couldn’t guess what they were. Lu, beaming with pride, explained their purpose.

“These are called puzzle pieces. Since the carriage ride lasts three days, I asked the artisans to make them—just in case you grew bored.”

The puzzles were three-dimensional. Some consisted of scattered pieces that, when properly assembled, formed an object; others were tightly linked rings that, with the right technique, could be separated. There was even a plain-looking square box with hidden panels and latches—solving it would reveal a secret compartment with a small treasure.

“Lu, thanks to you, my boredom will be much lessened.”

Nyne smiled brightly, delighted. Lu’s lips twitched in joy. These puzzles were, in fact, popular among senior priests who practiced meditation. Ostensibly, they were tools for mental cultivation and wisdom. In truth, they were toys for bored old men during long meditative hours.

“How did anyone come up with such a clever game?”

Nyne marveled as he examined one of the elegant puzzles. Lu winced slightly on the inside. The idea, in truth, came from traps designed to guard tomb treasures.

High-ranking priests, after death, were buried with vast wealth in grand desert tombs. Naturally, many tomb raiders targeted them. To both protect the goods and allow regular inspections, artisans developed intricate traps that required complex puzzle-solving to disarm. These “puzzle pieces” were inspired by those mechanisms.

Lu didn’t mention any of that, of course—he just smiled and encouraged Nyne to enjoy them. What mattered most was that Nyne was pleased.

After lunch, Nyne returned to the carriage and glanced at Amon. Despite the new object sitting on the table, Amon didn’t react at all.

Nyne thought about their past conversations in the carriage. He tried to focus on the positive. Perhaps Amon didn’t mean to treat him like an object—it was just a matter of wording. Yes, he was strict and severe, but surely Amon still cared for people in his own way. After all, even gods might have hearts resembling humans’.

It was better to think of Amon as a god who was merely unfamiliar with humanity than as a cruel and merciless one.

Not all conversations had been reassuring, though. Just the day before, Amon’s words had left a strange fear lingering in Nyne’s chest. Still, he wanted to overcome that fear and connect with Amon more.

He didn’t want to tremble in fear every time Amon looked at him—or feel like he was witnessing a slaughter rather than a bond. He wished that their relationship could grow naturally, as ordinary people grew closer.

Why do I even dare to hope for something so bold and foolish…? Nyne chuckled bitterly, thinking of Gwen’s talk of friendship. Just as Lesha Gwen could never be his friend, he could never be Amon’s. But still… he longed for a kind of closeness.

“Aren’t you bored, Lord Amon?”

Nyne asked, opening the puzzle box. Only then did Amon glance over. Nyne quickly continued, fearing Amon might summon Osen Iyad for another of his strange entertainments.

“These are puzzle pieces. Have you ever tried one before?”

He carefully selected the simplest piece: two interlocked metal rings. Amon looked at them with idle curiosity, his expression unreadable.

“No. This is the first time I’ve seen such a thing.”

“Would you like to try? The goal is to separate the rings.”

Amon casually picked up the rings. Alarmed, Nyne quickly added,

“Just… please don’t break them.”

Amon’s hand paused—he had likely been about to use brute force. A faint crease formed between his brows, and his golden eyes narrowed slightly. But he obeyed Nyne’s request and began manipulating the rings gently.

They looked easy to separate, but it wasn’t so simple. As Amon twisted and turned them, Nyne found himself oddly delighted. He was trying not to laugh when Amon suddenly looked up and their eyes met. Nyne quickly turned his attention back to the puzzle. Amon silently watched his expression.

True to his nature as a wise and omnipotent being, Amon soon solved the puzzle. Nyne, who had been watching closely, tilted his head in disbelief. Amon’s graceful fingers twisted the rings just so—and they came apart like magic. Even having seen it, Nyne didn’t quite understand how.

Then Amon reassembled the puzzle and handed it back. Wide-eyed, Nyne accepted the piece with care. For once, he felt none of the usual fear or tension—only a light, excited thumping in his chest.

Now that he’d seen how it was done, Nyne managed to solve it himself. After resetting the rings, he pulled out another puzzle: one with scattered pieces meant to be assembled into a shape. This one was easier to do together.

He glanced at Amon briefly, then quickly became absorbed. His lips tightened in focus, and when he succeeded, his face lit up. There was a genuine sense of accomplishment to the game.

“You.”

Amon, who had been watching Nyne quietly, reached out and gently pressed a finger to Nyne’s lips, which were biting down in concentration.

“You seem to enjoy this more than watching fights or boat rides.”

He picked up one of the scattered pieces and inserted it into Nyne’s puzzle. It was a horn-shaped part—and it clicked neatly into place. Nyne had been stuck on that spot for ages.

Nyne picked up the next piece but didn’t move right away. A line from the scriptures surfaced in his mind: One must not fear death in service to the Sha. Offering body and mind is an honor, for true life begins in the afterworld.

But then… Nyne realized something.

He had never once heard Amon speak that scripture himself.

He opened his mouth.

“Lord Amon, actually…”

His lips moved without sound. I find no joy in people killing and dying for each other. Those things bring me sorrow and wear me down. He was about to say this but changed his tone gently.

“I find this puzzle the most enjoyable pastime. After that, I like boat rides, or reading. I also enjoy archery and playing music.”

He paused to take a breath and looked up at Amon. Their eyes were both gold, yet somehow they held entirely different colors. One cool, like metal. The other warm, like sunlight.

“And I like being with you, Lord Amon.”

Amon’s gaze drifted to the puzzle in Nyne’s hands. His expression said he didn’t understand why anyone would enjoy such a thing.

“Is that so.”

The words held his usual indifference and lack of understanding for human emotion. And yet—he picked up another piece and fitted it into Nyne’s puzzle. Through that small act, Nyne found comfort.