Little Pink Starfish

When Nyne unconsciously bit his lip, the wind shifted direction. Amon, who had been quietly basking in the sunlight, turned his head. At that moment, the birds peacefully foraging near the swamp suddenly took flight with sharp cries, as if a predator had appeared.

The golden eyes staring silently at him seemed to command, “Come here.” Nyne could no longer just stand still—he slowly approached Amon. As he tried to sit on the rock next to him, he flinched from the heat. Seeing this reaction, Amon rose and moved toward the forest shade. This was fortunate for Nyne, who hadn’t wanted to stand under the blazing sun.

“Lord Amon…”

Calling out, Nyne’s gaze dropped to the ground. He swallowed dryly and barely managed to lift his head. He couldn’t just look miserable, so he forced a smile—then blinked in surprise. Amon moved the corners of his mouth, as if mimicking Nyne’s smile.

But Nyne’s forced smile quickly faded. He recalled the last time he saw Amon. Their relationship had always been shameful and harsh, but their usual interactions were nothing compared to that night. He peeled away one emotion coiled in his chest like a serpent. Fear. Lowering his eyes, Nyne asked,

“Are you… still angry with me?”

“I, angry at you?”

A voice of genuine puzzlement. Perhaps, for Amon, the incident during the Hunting Festival was so trivial it wasn’t worth remembering.

Strangely, that thought didn’t ease Nyne—it made him angry. Though he knew he shouldn’t be angry in front of Sha, he couldn’t hold it back. It dawned on him that this was the first time he had faced Amon with clear memory of the shame and sorrow. The scandalous emotions he thought he had calmed through time with Lan Gwen suddenly surged up again.

“Because I ran into the forest at night without your permission, and tried to stop you from cutting down the priests… Wasn’t that why you punished me?”

As Amon silently listened, Nyne’s voice rose further.

“Just because… just because I wandered unconsciously due to a nightmare… you gave me such disgrace?”

He had tried to speak calmly, but his voice broke. He had never questioned Amon like this before, and though he knew his words were disrespectful, he trembled with rage and fear. Amon, meeting Nyne’s resentful glare, furrowed his brow.

“I did not punish you. Was my mercy—my pleasure—punishment to you?”

“Mercy and pleasure…?”

The things Nyne had considered punishment were, to Amon, mercy and pleasure. That left him speechless. How could the same situation be seen so differently? Why couldn’t Amon understand? It was impossible for Amon to comprehend the emotions Nyne had to pretend to feel for the sake of lowly priests.

“Yes. Your mercy and pleasure… were painful punishment to me…”

Though Nyne thought he should stop before committing further disrespect, he couldn’t stop the words pouring from within.

“I can’t look down on humans the way you do. Showing intimacy before them is shameful. I resent it every time!”

As he stepped back and stumbled over something, Amon caught him. Nyne recoiled from the contact, unable to think at all as those cold, metallic golden eyes turned on him. He pushed Amon away, shouting,

“Don’t look at me like that! I’d rather you be angry!”

No matter how much Nyne pushed, Amon didn’t let go. He was like a rock, immovable and heavy. A dark emotion briefly flashed in Amon’s eyes as he looked down at Nyne struggling to push him away—something even Amon himself hadn’t fully recognized. When Nyne finally gave up resisting, Amon spoke in a heavy voice.

“Nyne. I do not understand strange, dramatic emotions like shame that humans cling to… But at least I know what anger is.”

As Nyne panted and looked up, Amon pulled him closer. The warmth—no, heat—of his body felt like it could leave burns on Nyne’s fragile human skin.

“I was not angry with you that day. Nor am I now.”

Even in the shade of the trees, Amon’s golden eyes shone. They seemed to say: if I had been angry, it would not have ended with just that. For some reason, Nyne had a sense of déjà vu, as if he had seen Amon’s anger before. But before he could explore the feeling, Amon asked,

“But you did undergo Ossen Iyad’s rite, didn’t you?”

At that question, Nyne’s chest sank. He tried to remain calm as he answered.

“Yes, I did. But why do you ask about the ritual…?”

“It’s nothing.”

Judging from this, it was clear Amon had intentionally led Nyne to not realize he had lost his memories.

The ritual of Ossen Iyad certainly brought peace of mind. Though now his memories and emotions were painfully vivid, Nyne didn’t want to forget them. Because of how unusually emotional he had been, Amon seemed to be questioning the efficacy of the rite. As Nyne worked to calm his angry and sorrowful feelings, Amon lifted him into his arms. He moved as if picking up a fallen leaf—effortlessly, without feeling the weight.

“You are too difficult. I truly don’t know how to handle you.”

Hearing Amon mutter that, Nyne lowered his head deeply. He bit his lip, then finally asked for forgiveness.

“I’m sorry. I’ve committed disrespect again… Please forgive me, Sha.”

“I forgive you.”

Amon answered without a moment’s hesitation, as if Nyne’s apology had never been necessary. As Nyne let out a heavy sigh, Amon began walking.

A cycle of fear—what if Amon resented him—intertwined with a strange hope—what if he did. But deep down, Nyne knew that would never happen. It was a kind of instinct, a truth he simply knew. Amon would never lose interest in him, and he would never live a life without Amon.

Leaning his head on Amon’s shoulder, Nyne sagged, then suddenly glanced around in confusion. He had assumed they were heading toward Amon’s sanctuary. But even though time had passed, they were still walking in the forest. Hesitating, Nyne carefully asked,

“Are you… taking a walk on purpose for my sake?”

“Yes. Don’t you like the forest?”

Did he? Now that he thought about it, perhaps the reason he had felt good throughout the Hunting Festival was partly because of the forest. He had liked the vivid blue plants and trees, and the animals wandering among them. Feeling something like guilt at being cared for, Nyne lowered his eyes.

“Thank you, Lord Amon.”

“There is no need to thank me. If you feel good, that is a good thing for me as well.”

Does something like my mood really affect you, Lord Amon? He wanted to ask but held back. Skeptical of Amon’s words, Nyne’s brows gradually lowered.

The nature of this brutal and absolute being’s affection was always a subject of doubt. But at least in this moment—being held and walked through the forest—he wanted to believe without doubt. The sun-warmed, then shade-cooled, body heat of Amon felt almost too human now. When Amon had cooled enough, Nyne asked:

“Lord Amon, may I ask… why you called Resha Gwen to your sanctuary?”

His heart thumped with uncertainty over what the answer might be. Amon removed a twig caught in Nyne’s hair and replied,

“There was something I was curious about.”

Nyne’s eyes trembled. Amon was rarely curious about anything—just as he had little interest in others. So he was curious about Gwen? As he slowly untangled Nyne’s hair, Amon continued,

“The scent when I first saw him. A smell I had never encountered before—I was curious.”

Nyne’s face twisted. A scent? Was it really that strange oil Gwen had mentioned, the one that smelled like blood? Was that really the reason?

“Isn’t that just… some new perfume made through blending scents?”

“Nyne, I have lived a very long time.”

Though caught off-guard by the sudden change in tone, Nyne nodded to listen.

“There is no place in this world I haven’t been. No scent I haven’t smelled. For me to smell something for the first time? And from a human, no less?”

Amon’s voice turned cold. Only then did Nyne realize that Amon’s feelings toward Gwen were not interest—but suspicion and wariness.

“B-but… maybe it was just something he picked up from an item brought from another continent. Resha Lan Gwen did return from a foreign land…”

“You think I haven’t been to those continents?”

Maybe it would have been better if Amon’s interest in Gwen had just been pure curiosity. As Nyne grew increasingly anxious, Amon narrowed his eyes and murmured:

“But now… I think I know what that scent really is…”