Little Pink Starfish

His gaze turned toward the gathered priests. At the far end of the high priests’ seating area, he spotted a familiar face—Priest Fayra Sero. She had recently been promoted, granted even a lowly seat at this assembly in recognition of her excellent work beautifying the sanctum garden, much to Sha Nyne’s satisfaction.

It was her first time attending an event of this scale, and though she looked a little overwhelmed, her eyes sparkled. When she’d first received the promotion, she had been stunned—but now, in her black eyes, Nyne could see a budding desire for power and the revival of her household. Just the kind of reaction he had been hoping for.

Finally, Nyne turned back to Amon—who was propping up his chin, staring in silence at Nyne as he idly sipped wine. Nyne smiled despite wanting to avoid that unblinking gaze. Perhaps it was the flickering torchlight, but something glimmered in Amon’s eyes when he saw that smile. Nyne set down his cup and reached for Amon’s arm. It was cool as stone in the shade, unlike during the day.

“Amon, I would like to walk with you alone.”

Surprise flickered across the faces of those nearby. Nyne wasn’t known for being so forward during large-scale ceremonies. But being in front of the Sha, no one dared say anything; they only smiled and made light conversation. Still, many carefully watched how readily Amon responded to Nyne’s request.

The topmost tier of the temple—reserved only for the Sha—was arranged like a hanging garden, beautifully adorned. Up and down the winding steps, along angular walkways, lush flowers and trees bloomed in profusion. Every column had a glowing magical fixture, and sheer white veils billowed gently between them.

In truth, Nyne hadn’t really wanted a walk. What he wanted was for everyone to see how Amon prioritized him above all. To show that he was no longer the same as before. To show both the priests—and Amon himself—that things had changed.

As he walked, Nyne struggled to find something to say. He eventually stopped by an artificial pond in the garden. It was astonishing how clean and clear the water remained, or even how they had managed to draw water up to this height.

Nyne approached and sat at the edge, dipping his feet into the water. The chill helped ease the oppressive heat. Splashing his feet playfully, he turned to Amon with a smile.

“I would like it if you sat beside me, Amon.”

And Amon did, without protest. Lately, Nyne had been making more small requests, and each time Amon complied with surprising ease. He showed no sign of annoyance or reluctance. As they both sat with their feet in the pond, Amon remarked:

“You really do enjoy playing in the water.”

Nyne had never thought of himself that way. Still, instead of denying it, he smiled and replied:

“There are many things I enjoy.”

“Like what?”

Again, Nyne was caught off guard. Amon would usually respond with a simple “Is that so?” and let the conversation drop. But now, there was continuity—real dialogue. Nyne stared at the flower petals floating on the water, thinking. Despite his earlier claim, nothing immediately came to mind. Then he recalled the combat priests playing with water like children.

“…I suppose I like childish things.”

“What exactly do you mean by childish?”

Amon’s expression showed genuine confusion. In the moonlight, he looked almost impossibly beautiful—and just as alien. For all his years among humans, he still didn’t seem to understand them. Nyne hesitated, then tried something bold.

“Something like this, maybe.”

He scooped up water in his hand and flicked it gently. A few droplets landed on Amon’s robe—barely enough to notice. Even so, Nyne’s heart pounded like he’d committed blasphemy. Mustering more courage, he splashed again with an audible splash. Amon glanced down and frowned slightly.

“…I don’t quite understand what you just did.”

“My apologies…”

Water play only worked if the other person responded. But Amon didn’t even seem to grasp the concept. Under that unwavering, perfect gaze, Nyne felt almost ashamed.

“It’s a kind of play where you splash each other for fun…”

“Why is that enjoyable?”

“Well, because people usually dislike getting wet… or, maybe not ‘dislike,’ but it’s about the joy in doing something silly together…”

Was explaining water fights always this hard? The more he spoke, the more foolish he felt. This was something most people understood without explanation. Giving up, Nyne fell silent—until he spotted a flower floating nearby.

“…Or things like this.”

Driven by impulse, Nyne plucked a yellow blossom from the water and reached out, gently placing it in Amon’s hair. The moment brought back the memory of Gwen slipping a flower into his own. Nyne blinked in disbelief at what he had just done. He laughed nervously—until his eyes met Amon’s and he ducked his head.

“…Forgive me, Amon.”

A Sha Amon with a bright yellow flower in his hair—blasphemy in its purest form. And yet, he was the only one who could get away with it. Nyne realized he wanted others to see this, not to boast, but to make it easier to assert his will. At the same time, guilt rose in him—it was the same gesture Gwen had made toward him.

He stared at the ripples caused by his feet. Never had things been so peaceful, and yet, only he had changed. Had he been the cause of everything before?

If I had smiled like this sooner—acted as if everything was delightful—would everything have turned out better?

Just then, cool fingers brushed his cheek and ear. Nyne looked up, startled. Amon was gently touching his hair. Nyne reached up and felt the soft flower tucked behind his ear.

“You smile over something so small…”

Amon’s voice was soft, his eyes luminous with moonlight. That faint smile, so uncharacteristic and human, made Nyne’s heart pound.

“Is this why humans wear ornaments? It suits you.”

His fingers brushed Nyne’s lips. The tenderness in his face, the warmth in his tone—so unlike his usual self—made Nyne’s breath catch.

“…I like seeing you smile.”

Nyne smiled in return, radiant. But inside, he felt anything but pure joy.

If you liked my smile, why did you leave me in so much pain? Couldn’t you have loved me differently?

“Why have you changed so much recently?”

Amon studied Nyne’s face, trying to read the emotions beneath his smile.

“You used to avoid facing me for long…”

He… noticed?

Nyne’s smile faltered slightly. It was true. He had only visited Amon once or twice a week, at most. Being with him brought visions of dreadful things, and it became too much to bear. He would flee back to his sanctum. But even then, thoughts of Amon would flood his mind until he returned of his own accord.

Amon had never commented on that pattern—perhaps had accepted it as natural. So it was only now that the shift seemed strange to him.

But Nyne couldn’t tell him the truth: that he was trying to use Amon’s favor to bring down Osen Iyad. So instead, he whispered softly:

“I love you very much, Amon. Just as you enjoy seeing me smile, it’s natural for someone in love to want to be near the one they love.”

Amon’s expression didn’t change, but his golden eyes—usually as cold and hard as metal—stirred with something warmer. Nyne leaned in, his black hair cascading over his shoulder.

“Now, my love for you is greater than my fear.”

In that moment, Nyne realized he was behaving exactly like Gwen—trying to seduce someone into affection. He turned and stepped into the pond. It was shallow, just high enough to lap at his waist. Spreading his arms invitingly, he said:

“As I said… I enjoy childish things. So tonight, please—soak me completely.”