Little Pink Starfish

“Perhaps because the weather is quite hot, I enjoyed playing in the water, Lord Amon.”

“Playing in the water?”

At those words, Amon’s gaze turned again to the bamboo water guns floating on the lake. Nyne became slightly confused. As the one closest to Amon in the Temple, he could sense changes in the other.

When he brought up past events that Nyne couldn’t understand, when he looked at Lan Gwen, or that night of the Hunting Festival, when Nyne curled up in bed and showed no reaction… In the way his hands carefully examined and touched Nyne’s body—

On that face that seemed to have escaped the flow of time alone, always unchangingly beautiful, faint emotions sometimes flickered.

Or perhaps that was merely a feeling. Nyne struggled to relax his body that instinctively stiffened in front of Amon and spoke.

“I didn’t want to go into the lake myself, so I was playing around with the priests. If it displeases you, Lord Amon, I won’t do it again.”

“It doesn’t matter how you play around.”

It was a careless voice, as if even if Nyne had commanded the combat priests to drown themselves, Amon wouldn’t care. Nyne inwardly let out a sigh of relief, thinking at least no one would be punished or killed. But then, Amon suddenly asked,

“Do you still hesitate to look at me?”

Even the faint breathing of the small priests fell completely silent. Nyne’s lips slowly parted, startled by a question he had never heard before. His lips quivered, then he immediately shook his head in denial.

“No, Lord Amon. I… how could I?”

“That mouth still lies well.”

Amon’s hand gently pressed against Nyne’s lips, a faint smile on his face. Nyne recalled the time he awoke from a nightmare in the dark forest during the Hunting Festival. When he insisted he hadn’t tried to escape from Amon, Amon had declared it a lie with the same tone of voice.

“This tongue too.”

A finger slipped between the parted lips and pressed down on the frozen tongue before pulling out again. Then Amon let out a deep, slow breath. For a moment, it felt like he was imitating a human sigh. After briefly cupping Nyne’s pale cheek, Amon turned away and left the spot.

Nyne remained standing still, even after Amon was out of sight. His gaze, following Amon, was tangled with complex emotions. He took one step forward without realizing, then stopped.

Only after a while did he permit the prostrated priests to rise. Gwen, who lifted his head, made no move to wipe away the drying blue dye on his face. He simply stared quietly at Nyne, who was lost in thought, his face turned toward the direction Amon had gone.

For years, the relationship between Amon and Nyne had followed a certain cycle. Nyne would be worn out and frightened by Amon’s cruel behavior and flee to the sanctuary. Then Ossen Iyad would come to conduct a ritual. After the ritual, once Nyne calmed down, he would walk to Amon’s sanctuary and enter his arms.

This was the first time that cycle had been broken. Even after Ossen Iyad’s ritual, Nyne remained mentally clear without losing any memories, and he did not return to Amon’s sanctuary of his own accord.

Nyne resented Amon for the shame he had given him. Every time Amon showed his cruel nature, his insides churned. Often he felt unbearable fear in front of him.

Even so, he couldn’t wholly hate him. Because, despite the blood-stained acts Amon committed without hesitation, Nyne could find no malice in the actions and words directed toward him. Nyne knew Amon’s coldness—and at the same time, the gentleness directed only at him.

Sometimes it felt like he was being treated like a treasured object. There was no warmth like one might feel between normal human beings, yet the blatant attention and affection could not be denied.

As if the love of a god were fundamentally different from that of humans.

When listening to the priests speak, it made him feel as if he were the one being excessive for expecting any other kind of love from a god. Nyne simply had never wanted a love this frightening and cold. His life felt like a small glass bead placed in the palm of a god.

Sitting on the terrace chair, looking down at the beautifully tended garden, Nyne’s eyelashes trembled. He sighed and called for Popo.

“Popo, send word to ask if I may visit Lord Amon now.”

“Yes, Lord Nyne. I’ll send word immediately.”

Popo’s face brightened at Nyne’s command. Even without Popo’s prompting, Nyne had already been thinking he should visit Amon soon. They say distance makes the heart grow faint, but in Nyne’s case, the less he saw of Amon, the more his thoughts clung to him. At night, the discomfort kept him tossing for about an hour.

Even during the day, it felt like a fishing hook was lodged in his heart, tugging him, making him often turn his head toward Amon’s sanctuary. It was probably because this was the first time he had ignored Amon for so long. Nyne sighed again and stood up. The priests hurried over, carrying clothes and accessories.

Perhaps inspired by Nyne’s recent water fight, the priests had adorned him with vivid pink topaz and blue faience ornaments all over. Nyne thought it looked chaotic, but the priests looked satisfied.

By the time he was fully dressed, a reply arrived from Amon’s sanctuary, saying he may come. Amon had never once refused a visit from Nyne, so the procedure was mostly just a formality.

“Sha Amon is in the forest.”

Nyne nodded quietly but felt puzzled. Amon rarely left his sanctuary.

The “forest” referred to was the artificially cultivated woods near the sacred lake. Rare herbs and trees were grown there, and entry was strictly restricted to the permitted. Of course, someone of Nyne’s status as Sha was exempt.

The forest was too densely wooded for a palanquin to pass through. Nyne disembarked at the lakeshore and walked along the well-tended forest path. A stream made from the lake flowed through the forest. On both sides of the stream, fruit trees and herbs gave off fragrant scents. Speaking was forbidden in the forest, so the priests who tended the flora greeted him silently and respectfully.

Amon was in the central clearing of the forest, which took another ten minutes to reach. Half the clearing was taken up by the stream forming a pond, close to a swamp—an unusual place.

He sat on a broad rock, basking in the sunlight. Though Amon rarely liked anything, he did, unusually, enjoy sunbathing. When he stayed in the sun long enough, his body would heat up like overheated metal.

Near him, flocks of white-winged birds flapped their wings or groomed themselves, preying on small wet creatures in the swamp.

Nyne didn’t immediately call out to Amon. A cool, damp forest breeze stirred his hair. Standing under the shade of a tree, his face showed signs of unease.

According to what he’d heard from the Lotus Hall, Amon had summoned Gwen again last night. Gwen had stayed in Amon’s sanctuary for about two hours before leaving. What had they talked about for those two hours? Why was Amon showing interest in Gwen? A wrinkle formed on Nyne’s brow.

His heart was more complicated than ever before. Resentment and confusion toward Amon, worry and unease about Gwen—and amid all that, there was one strange emotion. As he tried to name it, Nyne tilted his head slightly.

‘…Jealousy?’

But if it was jealousy, it was unclear exactly at whom or in what way that emotion was directed.

The reason he had treated Gwen so harshly at first was more due to Gwen’s insolent attitude and the wariness toward a stranger from an unknown place than jealousy. He had been startled and shocked by Amon showing interest in someone for the first time—but that feeling had passed quickly.

When Nyne tried to imagine Amon favoring Gwen, he couldn’t help but worry whether the end of it would be being offered as a live sacrifice. At times, he thought it would be less painful if Amon took someone else as Sha or kept a favorite consort, but imagining a life without Amon made his vision go black. His mind was so crowded that he wanted to separate Amon and Gwen’s lives entirely.

‘Sha Amon’s… consort…’

Nyne repeated the words in his mouth. Of course, this was only how he called it inwardly—priests never referred to the Resha as “consorts.” They were simply the most noble beings chosen to be used directly by the god. Nyne couldn’t really imagine Amon cherishing Gwen or lying in bed with him as he did with Nyne.

Or perhaps… he just didn’t want to imagine it.

Though Gwen said he had no interest in Amon, where was the guarantee that a person’s feelings wouldn’t change? Nyne suddenly imagined Gwen no longer caring for him. Since Nyne’s entire life was essentially tied to Amon, it was impossible to imagine the god not caring for him. But Gwen…