Little Pink Starfish

A reincarnated human who had forgotten everything—why was he still worth meeting? Sa-eon couldn’t understand it at all. The incomprehensible emotion came as another form of discomfort. Until now, Sa-eon had never held any particular feelings toward anyone he met. But now, for the first time, he had taken a liking to this peculiar goblin—and for the first time, he harbored a vague, dark feeling toward this so-called Seonbi.

“Seonbi-nim wasn’t just a human. That’s why I could wait so long.”

Ebi explained patiently, but Sa-eon still didn’t understand. Why wait 500 years to keep such a trivial promise? Above all, to his ears, “not just a human” sounded like “a monster.” Sa-eon’s lips twisted ever so slightly. And to Sa-eon, monsters were…

“Even if it was a thousand years, I would’ve waited. That person is very, very precious to me.”

The smile that rose on Ebi’s face caused the curve of Sa-eon’s lips to fade.

“I don’t remember his past name, but I know his name now. And anyway, we met again, so that’s enough.”

Even as he said it, he seemed slightly bothered by his inability to recall the name. He softly furrowed his brows, then shook his head as if to shake off the feeling. Then, suddenly, with a puzzled expression, he tilted his head.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

At that moment, Sa-eon realized all these feelings were unfamiliar. Something coiled like a snake inside his chest. And truly, “this” was unfamiliar. The desire that drove him to chase a goblin—who would likely be of no use even if captured—and the feelings toward Ebi as well.

“Sa-eon?”

When Ebi called his name, Sa-eon remembered why he had never hidden his real name. No one could curse him or cast spells on him using that name.

A shaman he had encountered by chance as a child once told him, “The name Yu Sa-eon cannot be bound to any fate.” The shaman had looked at him with eyes full of contempt and said this was a terrible divine punishment for a monstrous sin in his past life.

Because of this so-called punishment, Sa-eon had no parents or siblings, no friends or acquaintances. His name existed only as a rumor passed between hunters and monsters. Any monster that recognized him and marked him as an enemy was always dead within a month and erased from memory.

Sa-eon had never cared about any of it. In his dull, meaningless life, the only thing of value was killing something and looting useful things from the corpse, like a crow.

But now, the goblin in front of him called his name—and for the first time, it registered in his ears. Like a small pebble tossed into a still, quiet surface.

“Sa-eon, are you sick or something? Did you get hurt while hunting?”

The being named Ebi called Sa-eon’s name. From that small tossed pebble, ripples began to spread—growing, churning inside Sa-eon’s chest. The quiet waves swelled and suddenly flooded everything.

“Yu Sa-eon?”

When Ebi called him for the third time and Sa-eon finally answered, “Yeah,” it happened. A familiar voice called Ebiwon’s name.

“Biwon-ssi?”

He would never forget what he saw in that moment.

Ebi, who had been looking at Sa-eon with concern, whipped his head around. The moment he saw who had called his name, his pale face lit up with a full smile. His eyes curved long and soft, and his lips held a gentle smile.

Seeing that smile, Sa-eon painfully realized just how much Ebi liked the reincarnated Seonbi, this man called Kim Eun-jun. And again, an unfamiliar emotion carved a raw, reddish line in his heart. A heavy, unpleasant weight pressed down on his chest.

Every first emotion was extreme. Sa-eon had never felt this before, but he knew exactly what it was.

He felt overwhelming, vicious jealousy toward Kim Eun-jun.

A deadly poison—without inflicting a single wound—caused him deep pain. The venom Sa-eon had kept buried through countless killings and bloodshed flickered coldly in his eyes.

Three times the goblin called his name. One smile after that.

In that instant, hunter Yu Sa-eon harbored a clear, deep killing intent toward Kim Eun-jun.

🍬

“Sa-eon?”

Ebi looked around. After chatting briefly with Eun-jun, who was at the station for filming, Sa-eon was nowhere to be seen. Being the elusive hunter he was, Ebi thought nothing of it—figured he had vanished without a trace as usual.

“I hope he wasn’t hurt…”

Worry crept into Ebi’s brow as he recalled the wound on Sa-eon’s hand from a previous hunt. He hadn’t seen the blood, so he couldn’t check the injury, but he could’ve at least asked if he was okay. Fidgeting with his phone, Ebi sent a text to Sa-eon for the first time.

[You’re okay, right?]

No reply came immediately. Ebi hesitated nearby, wondering if Sa-eon might return. But no matter how much he looked around, Sa-eon was nowhere to be seen—not a single hair. Feeling disappointed, he thought, If I hang around the station, maybe I’ll bump into someone I know. We could have some fun. After a long internal debate, he decided to quietly do as Sowol had advised—go back, do the work he didn’t want to do, and comfort a puffed-up, sulking Dongjitdal.

By the time he arrived at the office, the sun had already set and darkness had fallen. On one of the upper floors, young goblins who had just woken up from naps were rolling around on the floor. Ebi picked them up and gently placed them on the sofa, patting them to help wake them.

“Ebi, want something to eat?”

The staff, who had been enjoying refreshments, welcomed him and waved him over. Ebi smiled and went to join them. Since this place was full of goblins, the snacks were mostly things like sweet bean jelly and traditional rice treats.

“I changed my hairstyle a little today—what do you think? Does it suit me?”

“It looks great!”

“You don’t need to ask. There’s nothing that doesn’t suit you, Ebi.”

Careful not to enchant anyone, Ebi smiled gently and soaked up the human affection. During the cheerful snack time, one staff member opened her mouth with a tired face.

“Um, this might sound crazy… but I think I saw a ghost recently.”

At the word ghost, everyone’s expression turned curious. Shivering, the staffer wore a distressed face as she recounted what she saw.

“Lately, I’ve been using the emergency stairs to walk up because of my diet… and there was a woman, upside-down on the ceiling, staring at me.”

“Oh no… That’s because this place is full of dark energy. Some people who are sensitive can see ghosts now and then.”

Ebi comforted the staffer. If it was a ghost in the emergency stairwell, Ebi knew that spirit well. She appeared shortly after the Mangnyang King took up residence in this building. Normally, humans can’t see ghosts, but the dark energy here at Dobi Entertainment was strong, so ghost sightings happened now and then.

“I figured ghosts must exist too, since we have goblins and all… but actually seeing one—it was terrifying. I nearly fainted.”

“That’s why our hiring criteria say you need a strong spirit and courage.”

“I started seeing ghosts too after joining here. Want me to refer you to a good talisman shop?”

While the group was comforting the terrified employee, the window darkened and Igok arrived, trailing blue flames. Staff who had been waiting without going home rushed over to present their documents.

Igok sighed openly, annoyed, and took out his seal from his sleeve. Watching him, Ebi remembered something and quietly approached.

“Um, Igok-nim. I want to ask something.”

“What is it?”

Ebi hesitated. His conversation with Sa-eon today had been quite a shock. Thinking about it, even though he’d always called him Seonbi-nim, no one had ever asked what the Seonbi’s name actually was.

Not even Ebi himself.

Ebi had tried hard to recall the Seonbi’s name. Humans lose memory with age, but goblins don’t—and yet, he couldn’t remember the name. It wasn’t even that the Seonbi had never told him.

“Ebi-ya, want to try writing it? This is my pen name, my family name, and my given name.”

In his memory, the Seonbi had gently stroked his hair, placed a brush in his hand, and praised his messy writing. That kind face, that voice, even the warmth—he remembered them clearly. But not the name.

“I was too young back then…”

Though he told himself it couldn’t be helped, he still felt anxious. He wanted to know the name, no matter what. But because the person he was asking was Igok, he became extra cautious with his words.