Little Pink Starfish

As he was receiving Lou’s devoted fanning, Nyne suddenly realized how quiet it was outside. Throughout the entire hunting festival, the air had been filled with applause for the priests who had gone hunting, and with sounds of cheerful laughter and chatter. But now, it was so silent it felt as if not a single person remained. Occasionally, only the cries of livestock could be heard.

“Is the hunting festival over now?”

Without taking his eyes off the fluttering tip of the fan’s feather, he asked. Lou, watching Nyne’s mood carefully, answered cautiously.

“Yes, Lord Nyne. It’s all wrapped up now; we just need to return.”

“Well, after the fuss I made… I suppose it would’ve been difficult to keep enjoying it properly.”

“N-no, not at all, Lord Nyne! Everyone already had more than enough fun. Knowing our place, how could we indulge in idle pleasures any further?”

Lou desperately explained how well everyone had eaten, drunk, and played. Nyne let out a self-deprecating laugh. It felt like he had ruined what would otherwise have ended as a joyful festival.

Suddenly, he felt a gaze on him. Turning his head, he saw Iyu looking at him with eyes full of complicated emotion. Iyu stepped closer and knelt down. But he didn’t offer an apology or ask for forgiveness. Instead, he asked something else.

“Sha Nyne, is your hand all right?”

Only upon hearing those words did Nyne remember he had hurt his hand while digging at the ground. He lifted it to check—still tightly wrapped in bandages. He flexed and straightened his fingers; they didn’t particularly hurt.

“I will summon a healing priest.”

“It’s fine.”

Since there wasn’t even any pain, Nyne thought it must be healing well and answered nonchalantly. What he really wanted now was to do nothing, meet no one, and rest quietly. He just wanted to return to the sanctuary and lie down on his familiar bed. He was glad the carriage had a bed, but then he suddenly shook his head. He didn’t want to be in the same space as Amon during the whole ride.

“…Lou.”

“Yes, Lord Nyne!”

Lou brightened and answered quickly upon hearing his name, but Nyne gave a different order than expected.

“I’ll be riding a different carriage back. Make sure it’s prepared.”

“Pardon? You won’t be riding with Lord Amon…?”

Lou tried to persuade him, saying the other carriage was cramped, had no bed, and wasn’t comfortable. But when Nyne silently stared at him, Lou reluctantly agreed. He was ordered to have a priest deliver the instruction, and a short while later, Popo returned from outside.

“Lord Nyne, I came as soon as I heard you were awake.”

She must have been in the middle of packing Nyne’s belongings—her robe, unlike usual, had wrinkles betraying haste. Popo glanced at Nyne’s expression and cautiously spoke. She tried to be delicate, but she was clearly recommending he ride with Amon.

“You are unwell, my lord. A comfortable journey would aid your recovery.”

“Well, mental stability is important for healing, too, isn’t it?”

Nyne replied in a cold voice. It was a clear statement that being in the same carriage as Amon would disrupt that peace of mind. Popo’s face darkened, but she didn’t press further and simply bowed.

“Is there anything you require?”

“No. I wish to depart as soon as possible.”

“Yes, we’ll prepare everything immediately.”

Popo politely replied, then looked around the tent. As she surveyed the priests organizing clothing and accessories with hawk-like eyes, her gaze paused at one spot. Unlike clothes and ornaments, a living burden hung there—a pair of blue-and-gold finches that Gwen had gifted were nestled together, occasionally fluttering their wings. Upon seeing the cage, a thought suddenly flashed through Nyne’s mind.

Popo gave a signal, and a priest quickly approached with a linen cloth—likely intending to drape it over the cage to reduce the birds’ stimulation during the ride. Watching this, he asked:

“Where did those birds come from?”

At Nyne’s question, a moment of silence filled the tent. It was brief, but Nyne immediately sensed the strangeness of that pause. Instead of Lou, who was still fanning hard, Popo bowed her head and answered politely.

“They are blue-and-gold finches captured by one of the clans during this hunting festival—offered as tribute for the Sha.”

Nyne’s fingers slowly curled. His gaze changed, though his expression remained blank, as he asked lazily as if still intoxicated by the incense:

“Blue-and-gold finches? Aren’t those… very rare birds?”

“Yes, that’s right. They were lucky finds. Surely even the birds recognize that resting in the arms of the Sha is their true happiness.”

Lou, fanning eagerly, flattered him. Nyne blinked slowly, then smirked and closed his eyes. His dry mouth, having not sipped a drop of water, tasted bitter. From the reactions of Popo, Lou, and the other priests, he gleaned two truths: that Osen Iyad’s ritual had caused blank spots in his memory, and that all his close attendants were fully aware of this and deliberately hiding it from him.

Weren’t those the very finches Gwen had offered him? What Lou and Popo had just done wasn’t a simple lie—it was a clear betrayal. The trust he had placed in his attendant priests had cracked.

Since Osen Iyad’s ritual was done under Amon’s command, then hiding the lost memories must also be Amon’s intention. If that’s the case, how could he hold them accountable for it? A long sigh escaped slowly through his parted lips.

The quick-witted attendants sensed the bitter chill in Nyne’s mood. Their packing movements grew quieter, more careful. Nyne kept his eyes closed the entire time they worked. Countless thoughts boiled furiously in his head.

“Sha, preparations for departure are complete.”

As he stood, attendants removed the kalasiris he had been wearing. The long linen cloth coiled at his feet like a snake shedding its skin. As the attendants gently folded its edges, Lou, being careful not to touch his injured hand, dressed him in new clothes—soft and light, as if made of clouds and feathers—with relatively simple ornaments compared to usual. Their every action showed their effort to avoid upsetting the Sha’s mood.

Exiting the tent, Nyne slowly looked around. Amon was nowhere to be seen—he must have already boarded a carriage. That was a relief. Guided by a priest, Nyne walked forward—only to find himself standing before the same carriage he had ridden with Amon.

‘Was this Lord Amon’s order?’

As the carriage door opened, Nyne tensed and bit his lip. But to his surprise, the inside was completely empty. The soft bed and cushioned bench bore no trace of Amon. Nyne asked,

“Has Lord Amon not boarded this carriage yet?”

“He wished for Sha Nyne to use it.”

Amon’s attendant answered with a deep bow, as though even saying his master’s name was a great honor. But instead of feeling grateful, Nyne would’ve preferred if Amon had ordered him to walk under the blazing sun. It was clear that Amon knew Nyne didn’t want to be in the same space, and yet still made this gesture. The more considerate he was, the more Nyne resented him. Dealing with Amon made even resenting him properly a complicated task.

With a shadowed face, Nyne looked around once more before climbing into the carriage. Lou looked delighted, as if it were an honor to ride in such a grand carriage. But he soon quieted down and knelt on the floor after glancing at Nyne’s expression. Iyu also boarded, smiling broadly.

“Thank you, Sha Nyne. It is your grace that allows me such luxury.”

It seemed that with Amon absent, Iyu and Lou had been assigned to serve Nyne. Iyu knelt beside Lou, who flinched. As the carriage began to move, Nyne gestured.

“If you stay like that all day, you won’t be able to walk by afternoon. Sit.”

At Nyne’s suggestion, Lou hesitated but gave thanks and quietly sat on the bench. Cushions padded both the seat and the backrest, and he seemed pleased by the comfort. Iyu scratched his cheek, then plopped himself down on the floor instead of the bench.

Though there were two talkative people aboard, the carriage remained silent. Nyne sat blankly, staring out the window. Iyu gazed down at the carpeted floor, and Lou fiddled with his fingers nervously before speaking up.

“Lord Nyne…”

He didn’t answer, but gave him a look. Lou then raised his voice, as if he wanted Iyu to hear clearly:

“I too will devote my life to you, Lord Nyne, just like Priest Iyu. I truly will.”

The voice was immature, like a child’s, but there was no lie in it. Nyne could sense that Lou was genuinely willing to give his life for him. And that sincerity hurt even more.