Little Pink Starfish

As expected, Nyne shook his head and refused Amon’s command.

“Lord Amon, they have done nothing wrong. I was the one who walked out in my sleep. Why punish them for something I did?”

Nyne could tell that Amon wasn’t truly punishing the priests for failing to guard him. Amon hadn’t even shown anger toward them. He simply needed somewhere to vent his foul mood. Since he couldn’t unleash it on Nyne, he intended to take it out on others, like smashing an object in frustration—cutting down humans instead.

Amon looked at Nyne with a curious expression.

“You’ve already given your heart to these ones? You’ve only known them for what—two months? That’s not very long, compared to the last ones.”

Nyne clenched his teeth as unpleasant memories rose. “The last ones” referred to the priests and slaves who had served him until a few years ago.

One unlucky day years ago, someone had mishandled the brazier in Nyne’s sanctum, starting a fire of considerable size. The warrior priests, sensing smoke, immediately escorted Nyne out—so fast that he hadn’t even seen the flames. He hadn’t been hurt at all.

Even so, by the time he returned, all the priests who had served him that day had been dragged away and beheaded in the execution ground. It was said that Amon himself had personally taken their heads in anger. Nyne had fainted on the spot.

Even after waking, he’d spent over a week in a stupor under Ossen Iyad’s drugs. He’d been so thoroughly drugged that even the faces of those who had served him became blurry memories.

To Nyne, it had been a horrifying event that should never happen again. But to Amon, it seemed to hold a different meaning.

“If it’s just two months, not even a year, it won’t be that painful.”

“…This isn’t just about how painful it is, Lord Amon.”

“Then what exactly is the issue?”

Amon looked as if he couldn’t understand Nyne’s desperate, horrified heart. To him, taking the lives of a few among many humans meant nothing. Nyne realized that this wasn’t something he could resolve with reason.

“You said you would grant what I wished for.”

“I did. But only as long as you didn’t try to leave me, isn’t that what I said?”

Frustration surged inside Nyne. To treat his wandering into the forest during a nightmare like an attempt to escape was too cruel. He tried urgently to explain.

“I wasn’t trying to leave you, Lord Amon. I just… I had a nightmare, and…”

“Silence.”

Amon raised his hand, and it covered Nyne’s lips. His palm pressed his mouth, and his firm fingers dug harshly into Nyne’s cheek. Startled, Nyne looked up—Amon spoke with a faint, chilling smile.

“I already know well enough that you’re lying. No need for long excuses.”

Shocked by the uncharacteristically rough action, Nyne struggled. Thankfully, Amon loosened his hand and released him. As Nyne backed away in shock, Amon turned his gaze—now cold and unnervingly intense—onto Iyu.

“State your crime.”

“We failed in our duty to protect Sha, allowing his body to be harmed.”

With Amon’s rebuke, the warrior priests slammed their foreheads against the ground so hard it echoed. Blood dotted the grass.

Nyne couldn’t make sense of it. Fine, maybe he had sleepwalked. But how had the warrior priests failed to notice him leaving in the night? There was only one entrance to the tent, and it had been heavily guarded. Nyne hadn’t even been in his right mind. Unless he’d used some unknown magic, this shouldn’t have been possible.

Even so, Nyne knew that Amon had all the justification he needed to punish them. If Amon deemed it a crime, then it was. But Nyne couldn’t just accept it.

“I left on my own and hurt myself. How is that their fault?”

As he challenged Amon, the priests who had been lying prostrate gasped, eyes wide. To defy Amon’s words—such a thing was unthinkable, even for Nyne. Though both were called “Sha,” to the priests, Nyne and Amon were not equals. This was beyond imagination.

“Even the almighty Amon did not notice me walking out of the tent. So how can you place blame on mere humans?”

“My gods, Sha Nyne!”

One priest, unable to contain himself, cried out. It was tantamount to questioning Amon’s divinity.

Amon’s tent wasn’t far from Nyne’s. Considering the warrior priests’ superhuman senses, Amon likely had equal or greater awareness. Nyne was arguing that it made no sense to blame the humans for what even Amon didn’t prevent.

Amon’s face stiffened at Nyne’s defiance. Whether it was from his omnipotence being doubted or another reason, his golden eyes twisted unpleasantly. Fearing someone might get cut down, Nyne grabbed Amon’s wrist tightly, the one holding the sword. The cold gaze that bore into him felt like it could split his skull. Trembling, he forced himself to meet Amon’s eyes.

“If anyone must be punished, it should be me. It’s my fault.”

“Your fault.”

Amon’s hand slowly grazed the back of Nyne’s neck, raising goosebumps. Then he suddenly grabbed his hair and yanked it up. It didn’t hurt terribly, but the unfamiliar aggression made Nyne freeze. Everyone else stayed flattened to the ground, silent.

“Whether human or beast, all must be tamed and taught through punishment.”

“…Yes.”

As Amon yanked harder on his scalp, Nyne answered in a trembling voice. Then Amon leaned in and bit down—gently, but with sharp teeth pressing into his neck. It was cold, like he might tear into him at any moment. But as Nyne quivered, Amon slowly released him, his fingers letting go of his hair.

“But how could I ever strike you?”

His voice was oddly gentle, brushing Nyne’s nape with a terrifying intimacy.

“If I cannot punish you directly, then I must do what you hate most. And yet, you ask me not to kill them. How cunning of you.”

As Amon lifted his arm, Nyne’s hand clung tightly to it, but it was meaningless. He couldn’t stop Amon’s strength. However, instead of raising the sword, Amon tossed it to the ground with a clang. It struck a nearby priest hard—but the priest made no sound, only bowed lower.

“So you dared to ask me for punishment. Because you thought I wouldn’t dare harm you?”

“…No.”

Nyne, knowing full well that Amon could kill dozens without a sword, refused to let go. Amon, instead of shaking him off, pulled him into an embrace. His arm wrapped around Nyne’s waist like a snake, tightening until he couldn’t breathe. A gasp escaped.

“Then tell me with your own mouth. What would be punishment for you?”

“Me…”

Never having faced such a situation before, Nyne’s mind went blank. His tongue barely moved. Instinctively, he looked around. No eyes were watching, but countless ears were listening. When he finally looked back, golden eyes stared sharply into him. Pinned by that gaze, Nyne finally forced out the words.

“If… if you embrace me…”

The sentence came out stiffly. Ashamed, Nyne clamped his mouth shut. Even he was shocked by the truth hidden in his own words.

Amon narrowed his eyes, tilting his head slowly.

“Me embracing you is a punishment?”

His lips curled in an ambiguous expression. Nyne couldn’t tell whether he was amused or angered.

“Are you lying to tempt me? Are you pretending to pout? Or… was that sincere?”

Unable to affirm or deny, Nyne bit his lip. Frowning, Amon pressed a thumb against his lower lip, stopping him from biting. Nyne, tense and distracted, accidentally licked his lips—grazing Amon’s finger with his tongue.

Amon paused, still pressing on Nyne’s lips.