Little Pink Starfish

“Yes, Sha. I will follow your command.”

Osen Iyad bowed respectfully in response. Amon glanced at Nyne’s tent for a moment, then moved away. Soon, his figure disappeared into the dark forest. Once Amon had completely vanished, Osen Iyad straightened his back as if nothing had happened. Clicking his tongue lightly, he gestured to his loyal aides.

His loyal high priests moved swiftly. They brought incense and several other items stored in a special case. With the priests in tow, Osen Iyad entered Nyne’s tent.

Nyne was lying still, curled up on the bed. Under Osen Iyad’s watchful eye, the priests moved quietly with bowed heads. One carefully inserted incense into the censer, another tidied up the surroundings. A third priest knelt and waited for further instructions.

The gaze of the aged priest fixed on Nyne. The young, beautiful body lying limp and naked on the bed was slowly scanned with a greedy stare. Tousled hair, slender waist, long limbs—his blurred eyes, clouded with age, flickered with a desire that went beyond mere lust. Soon, the preparations were complete, and the priests bowed their heads.

“Preparations are complete.”

“Light the incense.”

A priest pulled a thick triangular cloth from his robes and wrapped it around his mouth. Osen Iyad and the others did the same, then lit the censer. As the incense began to slowly spread through the tent, Nyne turned his head, revealing one tear-streaked cheek from where his face had been buried. His tear-drenched eyes carried a sorrowful, pitiful beauty. Even the priests, accustomed to such rituals, were momentarily captivated.

Golden eyes slowly moved across flushed cheeks, staring at the priests. Even with clear hostility in that gaze, Osen Iyad smiled kindly.

“You’ll be comfortable soon, Shah Nyne. Forget your pain and sleep deeply.”

As the thick incense filled the air, Nyne’s eyelids blinked slowly, and his sharp golden gaze faded into slumber. Once his quiet breathing became steady, the priests moved quickly. A large battle priest carefully wrapped Nyne’s body in a long, thick cloth and lifted him gently. His half-unconscious head drooped over the priest’s shoulder, black hair cascading like a waterfall. A fragrant scent wafted up, causing the priest holding Nyne to stiffen slightly.

Even with their mouths and noses thoroughly covered by treated cloth, the incense had harmful effects. This made the priests move even faster. They changed the bedding, laid Nyne neatly upon it, wiped his body clean, combed his tangled hair, and draped it neatly over the blanket. Finally, they placed a properly thin cover over his naked body—neither too hot nor too cold. All of this took only a few minutes, but during that time, some of the priests’ movements grew sluggish. Noticing this, Osen Iyad barked an order.

“Enough! You’re too slow. Finish up and move.”

“Yes, Hanet.”

The priests answered respectfully and hurried out of the tent thick with incense. The aroma flowed out heavily like mist in a forest at dawn. Knowing it would linger for hours, the priests quickly threw their face cloths into the brazier and burned them. Though they felt dizzy, they didn’t show it. Osen Iyad gave them further orders.

“Tomorrow morning, extinguish the incense and read scripture to Shah Nyne when he awakens. Call me when you’re done, and above all, do nothing to provoke Shah Amon’s mood.”

“We will bear it in mind.”

Listening to the conversation outside, Nyne began to stir faintly from sleep. Instinctively, he felt repulsed by the incense that filled his tent. But his whole body was as heavy as stone, too much to resist. As he breathed in, the memories that had made him feel so miserable and sorrowful began to blur.

Though each breath eased his pain, Nyne disliked the incense. It was the kind that wears down the damaged parts of the soul. He could feel his sense of self slowly eroding each time he smelled it.

He tried to force his eyes open, but the effects of the drug blurred his vision again. Just as he was drifting back into sleep, something pink entered the tent. Nyne blinked slowly. Am I dreaming already?

It was a small forest fox with pink fur. Wagging its tail, it entered the tent seemingly unaffected by the strong incense. Sniffing briefly, it jumped onto the bed. With light steps, it approached and lay close to Nyne’s face. Tilting its head adorably, it rubbed its wet black nose against Nyne’s, as if trying to comfort him.

It rubbed its small head gently against his cheek, licked his lips and cheek a couple of times, and then crawled into his arms. The soft fur and warm body were a comfort. A single tear rolled slowly from Nyne’s blinking eye, dampening the tip of the fox’s ear.

With a long sigh, Nyne fell into a deep sleep. The pink fox stayed in his arms, sharing warmth long after he had dozed off. Occasionally wagging its tail, the fox’s gaze sharply watched the incense burner.

When Nyne opened his eyes again, the pink fox was gone. Was it a dream? But the sensation of that warm ball of fur had felt far too real to dismiss as just a dream.

The tent no longer smelled of incense, and strangely, his mind felt clearer than usual. A flood of bitter, humiliating memories of the night with Amon returned. Surely, everyone outside knew exactly what had happened last night—what Amon had done to him…

Though mentally clear, Nyne’s body was so heavy he couldn’t even move a finger. He didn’t feel like moving either. Then, he heard someone enter the tent. He looked, thinking it was Lu—but it wasn’t. Nor was it one of his usual attendants.

Even though their eyes met, the priest didn’t greet him. Instead, the priest examined his face closely and reported outside.

“Shah Nyne has already awakened.”

“What? He’s already conscious? Shouldn’t we burn more incense then?”

Something felt off in their tone and reaction. If he’d awakened, shouldn’t they have greeted him and begun their duties? And with the daylight streaming in, it was clearly midday—making it even more strange. A higher-ranking priest approached and asked politely:

“Shah Nyne, are you awake? Are you feeling unwell anywhere?”

Suspicious about the earlier exchange and this entire situation, Nyne gave no reaction. He lay still, blinking languidly. The priest cautiously asked again:

“If we have disturbed Your Grace, we will withdraw.”

“…”

“Shah?”

After careful observation, the priest straightened his back. Turning to another, he said:

“It seems the drug is taking effect earlier than usual today.”

“Yes, understood. Then we will proceed with the day’s schedule.”

Why is my head so clear today? Why are these priests acting this way? Normally, after Osen Iyad’s rituals, Lu and Popo were always there when he awoke. But not this time.

Is today different? Or has it always been this way, and I just didn’t know? Nyne decided to be cautious.

Soon, unfamiliar priests entered the tent. Did they do something while I was unconscious? Calming his tense nerves, Nyne kept his body limp.

Fortunately, the priests behaved respectfully, even before a supposedly insensible Shah. Even without a reply, they bowed their heads and addressed him:

“Shah, this servant begs forgiveness for the offense.”

Their actions didn’t differ much from his usual attendants. They wiped his face and body with warm cloths, combed his hair, supported his limp body to dress him, then replaced and arranged the bedding.

But unlike before, they brought scripture afterward. Three priests knelt by Nyne’s bed, each placing a scripture on their lap. One spoke:

“Shah Nyne, we shall now recite the scripture for Your Grace.”

After the announcement, one rang a small bell three times. The chime sounded oddly familiar. Then the priests opened their books, lifted their eyes slightly, and began reciting with closed eyes.

“What the Exalted Amon Ensar desires is clear, so His servants must always obey and carry themselves righteously.”

“With fear and awe, you shall serve Amon Ensar.”

“Do not doubt the words of Amon Ensar, and dare not question them.”

“His servants must utterly obey Amon Ensar, the true master and ruler of this land. Offer your blood and flesh to bring glory to Him.”

The core message, repeated endlessly: fear and serve Amon Ensar, god of Trastasa. Never question or disobey. Consider it an honor to offer your blood and flesh for His glory.

Even without incense, hearing their monotone chanting was enough to make Nyne’s head feel strange. After repeating the same lines dozens of times, they rang the bell again, and Nyne flinched instinctively. Nausea welled up. Out of their sight, he clenched his hand tightly.