Little Pink Starfish

As the rainy season approached, humidity and temperature rose daily. Naturally, people worn out by the heat moved more slowly, but in contrast, the lively atmosphere grew steadily more intense. The Flooding Festival was just around the corner.

The Flooding Festival was a ceremony held before the rainy season to pray for a good harvest and the birth of new life. When the rainy season came, the massive river that flowed through the center of Trastasa would rise greatly and carry along nutrient-rich silt. After the rainy season ended, farmers would plant crops in the fertile land left behind by the river. The soil was so rich that it didn’t even need fertilizer, and it could feed all of Trastasa and then some.

Because of this, the flooding of the river was something to be welcomed. Everyone participated in the temple’s celebration before the rains came, spending several days eating, playing, and enjoying themselves. The Flooding Festival was so important that it was practically what everyone worked hard all year for.

It was also the only time when the gods, who always stayed within the sacred space of the First Tower Gate, resided for an extended time at the temple of the Seventh Tower Gate. For that reason, not only the entire priesthood of the Grand Temple but also every single resha from the Garden Pavilion was busy preparing for the festival. Only two beings remained idle in the entire Grand Temple.

“Your faithful servant greets Sha Nyne.”

As Nyne stepped down from the palanquin, the combat priests guarding the entrance of Amon’s sanctum bowed to him. Unlike the attendant priests, they always knelt with such a loud thud that it made one worry about their joints. Nyne passed the combat priests and entered the sanctum. Amon’s priests hurriedly greeted him.

“Your faithful servant greets Sha Nyne. Sha, what brings you here without notice?”

Though the words were polite, their tone suggested it was disrespectful to visit Amon without prior notice. Nyne quietly looked down at them. Their faces were familiar—likely priests Osen Iyad often kept close. His voice naturally turned cold.

“Lord Amon granted me permission to visit whenever I please without notice. Yet mere servants like you question my reasons?”

“N-not at all, Sha. How could we dare? Please forgive this servant’s thoughtless behavior.”

Startled, the priests lowered their heads even further at Nyne’s words. Before Amon’s name, everything was deemed natural, and as mere servants, they could not utter a single complaint. Instead of saying he forgave them, Nyne asked:

“Where is Lord Amon?”

“Lord Amon is in the garden, Sha. If you would permit it, this servant shall guide you.”

“I know the way well enough. There is no need.”

Leaving the kneeling priests behind, Nyne walked off. Amon’s garden was quite different from his own. While Nyne’s was decorated with free-roaming ornamental animals, birds, and colorful plants and flowers, Amon’s was solemnly still, with most of the shrubs kept low, leaving little shade. Nyne had never seen even a single bird dare to land here.

Amon stood still, basking in the sun without end. At times like this, he barely moved and seemed more like a statue shaped like a man. But if Nyne approached even slightly, he would always notice.

“Lord Amon.”

Nyne called out cheerfully and picked up his pace. Amon turned around and stood, smiling faintly. It had already been more than a week since Nyne began visiting Amon’s sanctum frequently, yet Amon still stared at his bright smiles as if they were unfamiliar.

“Are you sunbathing again today? Aren’t you hot?”

“I don’t feel heat.”

“Then perhaps you don’t feel cold either?”

Nyne looked up at the sun and squinted, as if it were too bright. Amon lifted his hand to shade Nyne’s eyes with his palm. Surprised, Nyne opened his eyes wide, then laughed. He took Amon’s hand—still burning hot to the touch—and pulled him along. Amon obediently followed.

“I don’t feel cold easily either.”

“But you seem to prefer warmth. Isn’t that right?”

Nyne continued speaking with a smile, and Amon stared at him again as though Nyne were someone unfamiliar—or perhaps someone he hadn’t seen in a long time. After blinking a couple of times, Amon nodded.

“Yes, I do prefer warmth over chill.”

“If you had liked the cold instead, maybe Trastasa would’ve been built in the north. Then we might have been able to see snow. I wonder what snow looks like.”

Amon made a small “hmm” sound and fell silent, as if this was the first time Nyne had ever spoken so much in front of him. Nyne, thinking he might have been too noisy, hesitated—but surprisingly, Amon soon explained. It seemed his silence had been spent thinking about how to describe it.

“Snow is like cold sand, like ice. But lighter than sand.”

“Cold and light white sand… like ice…”

Having lived his whole life in Trastasa, Nyne had no idea what snow might actually look like. Instead of continuing the topic, he made a suggestion.

“Come to think of it, it’s already lunchtime. If it’s all right with you, would you care to dine with me?”

“Let’s do that.”

The moment Amon agreed, the priests who had been waiting nearby sprang into action. Within minutes, steaming food was laid on the table. Nyne strongly suspected that they must’ve been preparing meals regularly just in case Amon asked. As he hesitated over what to eat first—

“You’ve been in a good mood lately.”

Nyne smiled and replied to Amon, who had been closely observing his expression.

“Yes, strangely, I have been in good spirits. Perhaps it’s because of the outing with the resha last time. And I’m looking forward to the Flooding Festival.”

“Ah, the Flooding Festival is near.”

Though everyone had been talking about it for weeks, Amon seemed to have had no idea—likely due to his extreme indifference toward everything around him.

“I didn’t know you liked the festival.”

“Well, it’s festive, isn’t it? A day when everyone’s happy. It’s boring to live the same day over and over. It might feel troublesome to you, Lord Amon, but I like it.”

With that, Nyne took a bite of a dish wrapped in thin pastry with sweet, preserved fruit inside. As he chewed slowly, Amon spoke.

“I like that festival too.”

“You do, Lord Amon?”

Surprised by the unexpected agreement, Nyne’s eyes widened, and his cheeks flushed a bit. He had a feeling he knew why Amon liked it. The Flooding Festival wasn’t only about praying for a bountiful harvest. Many people indulged in passionate affairs during the celebration, and ten months later, there was often a baby boom.

As Nyne blinked in surprise, Amon leaned forward. After swallowing what he was chewing, his flawless face—eyes, nose, and mouth—moved with elegant precision.

“If I say I’m looking forward to that festival, will that make you happy?”

Amon’s still-warm fingers gently cupped Nyne’s chin. His golden eyes gleamed with a strange emotion. Nyne was suddenly struck anew by the fact that Amon wasn’t just beautiful in face—but in body as well. Amon’s gaze darkened, flickering with predatory hunger. Meeting that glint of appetite in his golden eyes, Nyne shuddered. The way Amon bit his own lip and then slowly licked the juice from the corner of his mouth was overwhelmingly sensual.