Little Pink Starfish

“…What do you mean by that?”

Madojin frowned.

‘…Is he offended?’

I tilted my head.

If it were someone else, I would’ve apologized right away. But the fact that Madojin might be offended made me uncertain.

Because Madojin rarely expressed emotion at all.

Although… he had shown some surprising sides these past few days.

“You kept holding your phone right up to your face. I thought your eyesight might be poor.”

“…I see.”

He handed me back the phone.

“There’s no need to worry. There’s nothing wrong with my body.”

“That’s good to hear.”

I took the phone from him.

“But still, that was pretty amazing, Dojin. How do you know all those ciphers?”

“I was just lucky. They were all very old encryption methods.”

“How do you even know about those?”

I wondered if he’d deflect again. Say it’s just the few things he happens to know.

“Archaeology, ancient history… I just know those subjects well. I don’t know much else.”

Surprisingly, Madojin dropped a hint.

I recalled how he once told Jeong Noeul in passing that he used to live in Rome.

A young man who studied ancient history and archaeology… and lived in Rome?

It almost felt surreal.

“Guys…”

Suddenly, Han Iro spoke up.

“Should we go… bury Holy together?”

“Holy…”

Madojin started.

“Holy… isn’t coming back, is she?”

“Uh…”

I was caught off guard by the question.

He must’ve asked because he hoped she might.

Geez.

That’s the kind of question that’s hard to answer even when a kid asks.

“…Sorry, but no. She won’t come back.”

I answered honestly.

“Maybe back in the days when constellations still blessed the human world freely, things would’ve been different. But normally, when a living thing dies, that’s it. Hopefully, she’s gone to a better place. Maybe to… reincarnate.”

“Reincarnation…? Born just to die again?”

Madojin muttered with a sigh.

He walked over and looked down at Holy beside Han Iro.

“…That sounds tiring.”

He gently picked up the butterfly from the net.

“Let’s go, you two. I’d like to give her a proper burial.”

We buried the butterfly in the garden near the Vichang Guild’s headquarters.

Han Iro dug the hole with a small shovel. Madojin laid her in the ground.

I stood silently, just watching.

Madojin’s expression gave nothing away.

Maybe Han Iro could sense more, but to me, he seemed indifferent about Holy’s death.

“Holy… I hope you go to a peaceful place…”

Han Iro whispered with clasped hands.

“Yeah. Rest easy.”

I added quietly.

“It was such a fleeting life. She crawled for days as a larva just to fly for a few more, clinging to a branch as a cocoon… and that’s it.”

Madojin said flatly.

“That’s not true.”

Han Iro looked straight at him.

“Insects might live short lives compared to people, but I think that’s okay. If she didn’t want more, maybe she was content with her time as a caterpillar.”

“…I see.”

Madojin nodded slowly.

“…Maybe you’re right.”

The mood fell quiet again.

We’d only come to decode SugarBomb’s message—but we ended up burying a butterfly.

‘Still…’

I looked down at the twig we marked her grave with.

‘…I hope she was happy.’

I whispered under my breath.

---

Afternoon arrived.

The contestants gathered in the lobby, waiting for the final stage announcement.

‘So empty now…’

I looked around at the mere ten remaining participants.

“Eunyul-hyung… is something wrong?”

Jeong Noeul came over.

He looked worried.

“Not really?”

“Then why…”

His gaze drifted sideways.

“…Ah.”

That’s when I realized what he meant.

“Han Iro. Snap out of it.”

I nudged the boy who was staring blankly into space.

He had seemed fine earlier, but after we buried Holy, he’d gone quiet.

He grew up in the mountains—he must’ve seen plenty of dead bugs. How did he handle it back then?

“…I just need a little more time. I haven’t fully let Holy go yet…”

He murmured, still out of it.

I briefly explained to Noeul what happened this morning.

“Ah, that’s it?”

Noeul shrugged.

“I thought you two were fighting or something. You haven’t said a word but kept clinging to each other. That’s how my mom and dad act when they fight!”

“Hey… please don’t project your parents’ post-fight routine onto our dynamic?”

“Hehe, yeah, I guess that’s true! Anyway, Eunyul-hyung, could you spare a bit of time this evening?”

“Why?”

Another ghost hunt…?

“There’s someone who wants to see you!”

A ghost wants to see me?

Whenever I’m with Noeul, I somehow end up dealing with spirits. Is he planning something again?

“…Okay. But Noeul, we’re not exorcising anything again, right?”

“Pssh, of course not. C’mon, it’s not like we’re—”

“Hello, everyone.”

Aiden’s voice rang out.

“It’s quite chilly today. Maybe that’s why the lobby feels even more spacious.”

He walked in, stopping at the center podium.
The other mentors lined up behind him.

Everyone grew tense.

When all the other contestants had to pack and leave, it was a bit sad.

Some cried while sending off close friends.

But now, with the final stage ahead, no one could afford to dwell on that.

Everyone’s eyes were sharper now. Colder.

“First, we have an announcement.”

Aiden flipped through cue cards.

“Before the final stage, there will be interviews.”

Of course. It wouldn’t be CYB without those.

“They’ll happen on the morning of the final stage, on the 8th floor set. They won’t affect rankings, so just show up without stress.”

“…What are we even supposed to say?”

Min Heejae whispered beside me.

Right—his rank had dropped after the N–LIVE broadcast.

Even if the interviews didn’t affect ranks, the pressure of saying anything was understandable.

“What did you say during your livestream, hyung?”

I asked.

“Nothing that would cause trouble.”

He said proudly.

…Which made me more worried.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I just didn’t say anything. I played piano the whole time.”

‘…Is he out of his mind?’

I felt sorry for the fans who tuned in expecting a broadcast and got impromptu classical music.

“Did you at least check fan comments?”

“Of course. Someone asked me to perform shirtless, so I did.”

“…You what?”

“Yeah. Then a staff member came running in. The stream had to pause for ten minutes.”

“…Ha.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

I couldn’t even begin to describe how absurd that must’ve been.

“Now, everyone.”

Aiden resumed speaking.

“Let me introduce the songs for the final stage.”

Here it comes.

I swallowed.

The final stage takes place on a special set.

Tickets go on sale in a couple of days.

The ten finalists would be split into two teams for group performances, then perform solo pieces.

Group stage tests teamwork as an idol; solo stage evaluates artistry.

The final rank combines performance scores and public votes.

In other words—both parts matter.

“I’ll now reveal the group stage songs.”

Aiden turned to the giant screens on each side.

On the left: a pastel-toned image with the words “The Beginning.”

On the right: a dark-toned image with the words “The Ending.”

“These are the two group songs. Let’s listen.”

We listened intently.

‘The Beginning’ was bright, upbeat pop.
‘The Ending’ was heavier, band-driven.

They were total opposites—designed to force competition over song style.

“To ensure fairness, the CYB team has assigned the teams themselves.”

…What?

I blinked.

In the last male idol season, participants formed teams themselves.

CYB had randomly assigned teams in some older seasons, but still…

‘Did he rig this somehow…?’

I narrowed my eyes at Aiden.

He claimed the teams were divided to balance out top-ranking contestants.

Team A: 1st, 4th, 5th, 8th, 10th.
Team B: 2nd, 3rd, 6th, 7th, 9th.

So, as 3rd place, I was in Team B.

‘Wait a sec…’

I stared at the screen showing team profiles.

“Would the 1st and 2nd place contestants please step forward?”

I heard Aiden say, but it didn’t matter.

What mattered was—

There wasn’t a single person on my team I’d ever performed with.

Han Iro (1st), Min Heejae (4th), Madojin (5th), Jeong Noeul (8th)—all in Team A.

Whoever planned this had clearly stacked the board.

‘…Damn it.’

I glared at Aiden, who carried on with that cheerful host voice.

Then, our eyes met.

Grin!

He smiled like a Cheshire cat.

I felt like I’d been played.

But that didn’t mean I’d lost motivation.

If anything, I was more fired up.

‘Fine then…’

Clench.

I tightened my fist.

‘…Let’s see who wins this.’