Little Pink Starfish

Sa-eon recalled the first time he stabbed Ebi with the sword Pigal (㓟㓤). The sword, stolen from an arrogant shaman, had low lethality, but instead, whatever it pierced would immediately reveal its true form. So, any goblin should have exposed their real body on the spot—turning into a broomstick, a cracked rice bowl, or a shoe, something like that.

However, this goblin, when stabbed with that sword, immediately turned into blue flames and vanished without a trace. As if it were merely a clone acting separately from its true body.

Ebi, grinning as if simply surprising someone brought him great joy, was touching Sa-eon’s hand without fear. He curiously traced each scar, then suddenly froze.

“Gasp.”

As if he had touched something terrible, Ebi threw Sa-eon’s hand away. He had seen the wound on the palm. Sa-eon glanced at the scar on his palm. The wound from where he had embedded the piercings and earrings now looked like no more than a red dot.

“There’s no blood now.”

“…Still.”

Ebi shuddered as if just the thought disgusted him. Even so, he didn’t stray far from Sa-eon. He kept glancing at the palm repeatedly, then soon cast a curious gaze.

“When we caught the face-stealing pillar last time, I was curious too—what did you do? It looked like you stuck earrings into your palm.”

“It’s called ganje. I use my body as an altar to temporarily borrow divine power.”

Ganje (簡祭). The earring plays the role of the ritual tool, the body is the altar, and the blood is the offering. It was a one-time-use spell, and having to prepare new earrings every time was troublesome, but for a human doing hunts, it was a very useful spell.

“Humans really do all sorts of things… Doesn’t it hurt?”

Ebi looked at Sa-eon with a worried face. Facing that handsome face made Sa-eon dizzy for a moment. Thinking the goblin was trying to charm him, he turned his head away. It felt strange. He had never received concern from anyone before. And this wasn’t even a human—it was a monster.

“Looks like it hurts.”

Of course it did. But for Sa-eon, pain was a daily thing. Showing pain was practically revealing one’s weakness to the enemy. Even while thinking that, he held out his hand to the goblin.

Ebi gently touched near the wound. Even though their eyes weren’t meeting this time, Sa-eon again felt a strange sensation.

Sa-eon remembered when he first learned of “Ebiwon’s” existence.

It was just a palm-sized photo. He had gone into a convenience store to grab a bite when he happened to spot a drink bottle with some man’s photo on it. Normally, he had no interest in others, but for some reason, he couldn’t take his eyes off that photo.

In the end, he bought the drink and took it home. He peeled off the label and wondered who the person in the photo was.

It was something that had never happened to Sa-eon before.

Things like being curious about someone’s name, holding hands peacefully like this, someone worrying about him, kissing someone—and the kind of feelings where he wanted someone so much it turned to desperation.

“Are you always getting hurt like this?”

Ebi frowned, asking while looking at what was no more than a needle-prick.

“Not always, but I do get hurt a lot.”

“How about doing something other than hunting?”

Something else? Sa-eon blinked. He had never even imagined doing anything other than being a hunter. From the moment his memory began, he had always been chasing, killing, hunting. His life had been soaked in the blood and flesh of either himself or others. Recalling those cruel memories, Sa-eon answered indifferently:

“Not really.”

“Then want to be unemployed? I’ll buy lottery tickets for you every month. I usually get third place.”

“…I don’t know.”

As Sa-eon’s reaction was lukewarm, Ebi frowned deeply. Sa-eon liked this incredibly gentle and soft way of thinking. Muscles always kept taut to react to threats relaxed ever so slightly in front of this odd goblin.

“Ah! Humans have to do that… self-actualization thing, right? Then how about being a boss? If I help you, the business won’t fail. Farming? Or a fisherman—kind of like a hunter? Or maybe you be an actor too?”

“Why are you an actor?”

Ebi blinked, not expecting the question to come back at him. He tilted his head like he was debating whether to say it or not, then smiled shyly.

“My human form, it’s pretty nice to look at, right?”

Sa-eon had seen a few beautiful people in his life. Many yokai disguised themselves in beautiful forms to seduce or beg for life and had died by his hands. He looked closely at Ebi’s face.

Ebi wasn’t seductive so much as neatly, calmly handsome—a warm-looking young man. But this goblin’s charm didn’t come from appearance.

Even if someone more beautiful stood next to him, when Ebi smiled kindly, softening the corners of his eyes, anyone would be drawn in. Countless humans had surely been enchanted by this goblin. They must have wanted to possess him, talk to him, touch him. Emotions Sa-eon had never felt before boiled up inside him.

“Yeah. You’re good-looking.”

“…R-Really?”

The face that had been smiling naturally moved awkwardly. He looked at Sa-eon then quickly turned away, his ears and neck gradually flushing red. Can shapeshifting imitate even this? Sa-eon wondered, holding Ebi’s hand that was still touching his. It was incredibly soft.

This goblin—everything about what he was made of, what was seen and touched—was so tender. Like a fruit ripened to its peak, its sweetness heavy and rich.

“Uhm, anyway. Thanks. I just thought… I could make use of this face a bit.”

Ebi fidgeted and coughed awkwardly. But he didn’t pull his hand away from Sa-eon’s.

“I wanted to find someone.”

“Who?”

“I’ve already found them, so I don’t need to act anymore… Ow.”

He tried to pull away gently because Sa-eon had gripped his hand too tightly. He ignored Ebi’s chattering—about how strong hunters were, remembering the last spider hunt—and asked again.

“Who were you looking for?”

Ebi hesitated, looking unsure whether to say it like before. Sa-eon waited patiently. Hunting was always grueling and slow—it was full of waiting. He was always best at waiting. Finally, Ebi furrowed and relaxed his brows and spoke.

“The seonbi-nim. From a long time ago. Maybe around 500 years ago?”

“Seonbi-nim?”

Sa-eon asked with a blank expression. An unpleasant chill crept into his chest. He was reminded again that the being in front of him was a very old monster. But that unpleasant feeling didn’t seem to come from that fact alone.

Ebi started telling how the seonbi-nim had once saved him long ago, had raised him, how grateful he was. That he was noble and graceful, tall and handsome—those stories were annoying, but the most unpleasant part was this:

“I met the reincarnated seonbi-nim not long ago. He looked so much like before, I couldn’t not recognize him.”

As he told the story, the goblin was smiling so happily.

To suppress a sudden, irrational, cruel urge, Sa-eon clenched his fist. Blood seeped from the small hole where he had put his piercing earlier today. He pressed his bleeding palm against his pants. If the goblin saw the blood, he would surely vanish like the last time he was stabbed with Pigal.

“What’s that seonbi’s name?”

“Remember the guy who was with me last time? Kim Eun-jun. He’s also an actor on Yusu.”

Kim Eun-jun. Sa-eon recalled the face of the man he had met today. Someone not worth hunting or killing—yet his name and face were vividly burned into his mind. But that wasn’t what Sa-eon had asked.

“Not the reincarnated one. The original seonbi, from 500 years ago. What was his name?”

“Huh?”

Ebi looked flustered, as if he had never been asked that before. He opened his mouth like he was going to speak, then knit his brows tightly, trying hard to remember, while Sa-eon watched silently.

Being skilled in spells, Sa-eon knew well that the most important thing in sorcery was a person’s real name. Not just for spells—everything in the world begins with a name. That’s why hunters usually hid their real names: to protect themselves from enemies.

“I definitely heard it before… but it was so long ago. I can’t remember.”

Ebi stammered, looking flustered. Then he bit his lip and shook his head.

“I always just called him seonbi-nim, and I was too young…”

“You waited all this time for someone whose name you don’t even know?”

“I don’t know the name, but I can still wait.”

Sa-eon found Ebi’s words strange. Waiting 500 years for someone without even knowing their name—wasn’t that just a complete waste of time? That thought crossed Sa-eon’s mind.

“So now that you’ve met this nameless reincarnated seonbi, what are you going to do?”

“Just meeting him is enough. It’s good just that he kept his promise to come find me someday.”

Still, everything Ebi said sounded strange to Sa-eon.

“Right. To wait so long with no guarantee…”