Little Pink Starfish

Though he said it aloud, Nyne knew very well that what Lou felt toward Amon wasn’t love—it was awe, admiration, a yearning. A childish desire to grow closer to someone dazzling.

But what frightened Nyne was that such naive yearning might ultimately lead Lou to death. He could no longer freely show favor. That favor might mark Lou as the finest offering. Lou’s words—saying he would gladly give his life for Nyne—had been sincere.

What was he supposed to do with Lou now? No matter how hard he thought about it, only one solution came to mind at the moment. Nyne slowly closed and opened his eyes, then spoke in a cold voice.

“You’ve already become a Resha, and that cannot be undone. But neither can I ignore this betrayal. How could I possibly take you into my afterlife now?”

“L-Lord Nyne… No, Sha Nyne…”

Lou had never received such cruel rejection from Nyne before. Tears fell freely from his eyes. Perhaps he was beginning to regret the choice he’d made. At least to Nyne, Lou’s actions had been gravely misguided. Nyne sighed deeply and deliberately softened his voice.

“Still, you have served me faithfully all this time. I will give you a chance.”

“Anything—whatever it is, please command me.”

Lou clung to his words as if they were a lifeline, his eyes brimming with desperation, loyalty, guilt, and anxiety.

“Strive with all your might until you earn my forgiveness. Until then, you cannot be my true servant. Do you understand?”

Lou sobbed too hard to answer right away, only nodding. But perhaps fearing that wasn’t enough, he forced himself to choke out a clear response:

“Yes… I understand, my lord.”

Nyne didn’t want Lou crying at his feet until he collapsed from dehydration, so he dismissed him. And in doing so, he felt slightly relieved. Until Lou was forgiven, he would not be recognized as a true servant—which meant he would be safe from becoming an offering in the Lotus Hall.

Still, unease gnawed at him. This situation had taught him too well how unpredictable people could be. With a heavy heart, Nyne exhaled again and gave an order.

“Summon Resha Gwen.”

“Yes, Sha. At once.”

Sensing Nyne’s deeply disturbed mood, the priest moved with utmost caution, barely daring to breathe. Nyne understood: just as he must not show favoritism toward Lou, he also mustn’t become too attached to Gwen. But for now, he needed comfort—something, someone warm. Someone human, someone he could connect with. Someone who could give him the consolation he craved.

He wasn’t entirely sure what Gwen felt toward Amon, but it didn’t seem like true religious devotion. Gwen didn’t look at Amon with the reverence of a believer. Besides, anyone who could fool Trastasa’s elite combat priests was clearly skilled. He wouldn’t easily die as an offering.

As if he’d been waiting nearby, Gwen arrived at Nyne’s sanctuary not long after being summoned. He knelt with a kind smile and looked up at the sorrowful Nyne.

“Sha Nyne, your servant has come at your call.”

Nyne said nothing, too preoccupied with thoughts of Lou. Sensing this, Gwen gently spoke, his pink eyes filled with a rare, human sympathy and some unknowable affection.

“Shall I show you a puppet story?”

“Anything… anything that…”

Nyne mumbled, his voice dim as a fading ember. Anything, just something to ease this bleakness. But then he shuddered slightly, raised his head, and looked at the attendants. He didn’t want any more eyes watching or ears listening.

“All of you, leave the tent.”

“Yes, Sha.”

All the priests retreated outside the billowing curtain—except for Iyu, who stood silently like a shadow. Gwen stood and took a goblet the priests had left, placing it in Nyne’s hand. He poured fragrant wine into it. Nyne drank in silence.

“Shall I tell you a fable today?”

Gwen said, reaching into his robes and pulling out a tiny, intricate animal puppet—barely two finger joints long. A pink fox. It looked familiar somehow. Then came a rabbit, a bird, and finally a lizard, which made Nyne chuckle involuntarily.

“Those look familiar.”

“They’re just as rare and precious as the blue-and-gold finches, Sha.”

Gwen placed his fingers above the puppets and moved them in irregular patterns. The animals tilted their heads and wagged their tails—so naturally it was as if they were alive. How had he attached the strings? Nyne reached out, waving his hand between Gwen’s fingers and the puppets—but touched nothing.

Magic…?

Nyne was awed. Then, suddenly remembering Iyu was still there, he turned quickly—only to see Iyu yawning, staring at a distant pillar, pretending not to notice. Nyne relaxed again and turned back to Gwen’s performance.

On the table, the story of a sweet-tempered fox unfolded—a fox who adored sour grapes and called a lion his elder brother. Gwen and his talents had become Nyne’s only real solace lately. Though he laughed at the tale, his eyes still occasionally dulled with sadness.

At one point, the little fox puppet rested its head on Nyne’s finger affectionately. Nyne smiled faintly—then blinked in surprise.

Wine from his cup had spilled onto the table… forming letters.

Shall I show you something strange tonight?

When Nyne looked up, Gwen was smiling gently at him.

Nyne felt a sudden curiosity. Does he want something from me? Or is this just pity? What new wonder would he show this time? He almost nodded but hesitated.

Nighttime meant heightened security in the sanctuary. Even with Gwen’s skills, one slip could be dangerous. But…

Nyne glanced at Iyu again. He was fiddling with his cuticles, feigning distraction. Whether by fortune or misfortune, Iyu was in charge of the sanctuary’s night watch.

Nyne sighed and rubbed his eyes roughly with his palm. Rationally, he knew he should refuse. But emotionally, he just wanted something—anything—to lift him out of this mire. In the end, he nodded.

The letters on the table vanished instantly. In their place, the little fox curled up like a ball, smiling sweetly where the words tonight had been.

As dusk settled, Nyne went to bed early. Lately, he’d been sleeping early and waking late, so the priests tucked him in and left without suspicion. After a while, Nyne rose and quietly made his way to the terrace.

Looking down, he saw Iyu standing watch, hand on his sword. He must have sensed Nyne’s presence but kept his eyes fixed straight ahead.

Nyne waited, hoping to see that familiar pink creature again. Occasionally, his eyes wandered toward Amon’s sanctuary or the Lotus Hall.

Since the hunting festival, Amon hadn’t summoned Nyne—and Nyne hadn’t sought Amon either. Amon didn’t understand why Nyne suffered. In times like that, he simply left Nyne alone. Eventually, the pain would fade, blurred by the rituals of Osen Iyad, and Amon would call for him again. It had always been like that.

It wasn’t kindness. It was behavior learned over years of repetition.

Just thinking of Amon made Nyne’s chest ache. His feelings for Amon were a tangled mess—somewhere between a vague love and an unfathomable fear.

Amon was too terrifying to love simply… but too central to his life to fear entirely. Nothing about Amon inspired light emotions—only heavy ones that pressed on him every day like a weight.

He was deep in thought when—

Knock knock. A soft tapping.

“…Lan Gwen?”

Nyne called quietly, glancing around. Again: knock knock. Maybe a woodpecker? He looked down from the terrace. Iyu yawned, clearly unaware of anything.

Nyne followed the sound… and soon found something he’d never seen before in his bedroom.

It was… a door. A door in the wall, near the bed, that had never been there before.