Little Pink Starfish

Startled by Gwen’s reaction, Nyne instinctively took a step back. Though he had worn only a loincloth to flaunt Amon’s favor before the priests, he didn’t actually want to go around openly displaying such marks. The joy of seeing Gwen faded quickly, replaced by a wave of shame. He turned to leave at once, but Gwen gently caught his hand.

“Let go! If you have no business with me, why should I remain here with you any longer?”

“My apologies, Sha.”

Even as Nyne pulled his hand away and backed off, Gwen stepped closer. Nyne’s back soon met the wall, and as he tried to push Gwen away and call out for Iyu, Gwen calmly spoke.

“This servant dares confess—blasphemous as it is—I harbored jealousy toward Sha Amon. Please forgive me.”

Nyne’s lips parted involuntarily. Jealousy? He had been jealous of Amon? Jealousy never comes alone—it is always preceded by something deeper. Gwen had shown signs of affection before, but never had he expressed it so plainly.

Was he serious?

Nyne quietly met Gwen’s gaze. He had always thought those eyes were gentle and soft—but not now. This wasn’t the color of flowers. Something fierce and raw surged behind them. It wasn’t shame or anger, but something else entirely that changed Nyne’s mood unexpectedly. His irritation calmed, and he no longer pulled away.

“…I forgive your insolence.”

He lowered his eyes as he answered, unable to face those emotions directly. Yet even after being forgiven, Gwen’s face did not carry its usual bright smile. Nyne sighed and looked up again—only to meet a face devoid of any trace of a smile. Gwen whispered, as if afraid of being overheard:

“You seem unwell today. If you’ll allow it, may this servant offer you comfort?”

Nyne had planned to use this Flood Festival to display Amon’s affection—and through that, his own power. That meant staying close to Amon. He had no time, no energy to spare for Gwen.

And yet…

Just as one seeks shade under a cruel sun or water when parched, Nyne found himself drawn to Gwen. Letting out a long sigh, he placed a hand on Gwen’s shoulder—intending to push him away, but instead, he pulled him close. Though no one was watching, his chest tightened with nervous tension.

Receiving this silent permission, Gwen kissed him without hesitation. They weren’t in the sorcerer’s secret lair, nor was it a quiet, hidden night. It was broad daylight—in a corner of the temple, where Amon was close by. That reality shook Nyne.

Gwen’s tongue slowly met his between parted lips. When it slipped deeper, licking the inside of his mouth, Nyne’s lashes trembled. His body shuddered—but was it pleasure, or the guilt and unease that mimicked it?

“Nyne…”

Calling his name in a blissful voice, Gwen embraced him. Soft, wet kisses trailed down his lips with audible sounds, and Gwen laughed quietly. His half-lidded eyes held raw, burning desire.

Gwen’s lips moved down Nyne’s neck. His fingers gently traced his skin, reacting to every twitch. Nyne leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. His head felt foggy; every sense was heightened. The rustle of clothes, the warmth left behind by lips…

Where Amon had marked him, Gwen now kissed and licked. Shame, betrayal—and oddly, pleasure—raised goosebumps along Nyne’s skin.

“I never thought I’d come to like you this much…”

Whispering those words, Gwen sucked at Nyne’s neck. That one act pulled Nyne abruptly back to reality. Shocked, he shoved Gwen away and instinctively touched the spot where Gwen had left his mark.

After a pause, Gwen looked up and gently reassured him:

“Don’t worry. I didn’t leave a mark. No one will know.”

Nyne, still shaken, clenched his teeth. When Gwen saw him scratching the spot with his nails, his own lips tightened. Disappointment visibly fell across his face, yet Nyne turned away. He was angry—not just at Gwen, but at himself. Why had he let this happen?

“Never again. Don’t you dare do something like this again.”

Nyne glared coldly, consumed with regret. But Gwen only smiled—his eyes twinkled.

“…So there will be a next time?”

“Lan Gwen!”

Nyne shouted his name. Only then did Gwen finally fall silent. Nyne genuinely wanted to strike him, just to shake off the frustration. Gwen sighed, still smiling.

“I hope that one day, Nyne, you can do what you truly want—without worrying about anyone’s eyes.”

“You’re saying I’m not doing what I want now?”

Nyne snapped, incredulous. Gwen widened his eyes with mock innocence and shook his head as if that couldn’t possibly be the case. His soft pink hair fluttered prettily with the motion.

“Is that how it sounded? I only meant… I hope you’ll be able to accept comfort like this more freely in the future.”

Isn’t that exactly what you meant? Nyne grew more flustered, unsure how to respond. He only calmed once Gwen reassured him several times that no trace remained. Gwen then knelt before Nyne like a repentant sinner and gently took his fingertips, kissing the back of his hand.

“I don’t know how it was for you… but for this servant, it was wonderful. I realized I’ve been waiting for a moment like that.”

His eyes shone with genuine joy, and Nyne abruptly turned away. He couldn’t stay there any longer. And yet, unable to stop the turmoil in his chest, he lashed out:

“Stop saying such sweet nonsense!”

“It’s not nonsense, Sha. I’ll simply wait until I see you again.”

Leaving those syrupy words behind, Nyne stormed away. Iyu, waiting outside, looked visibly concerned at Nyne’s stiff, furious stride. Nyne kept biting his lip, and at one point, let out a soft, involuntary laugh. Then he suddenly stopped and lifted a hand to cover his face. A deep, heavy sigh escaped him.

That moment with Gwen—the kiss, the rush…

He couldn’t deny how it had felt. One second, he was light as air; the next, heavy as stone. His heart flipped back and forth wildly. And then he remembered—he had to see Amon soon.

He ordered the priests to bring a mirror before meeting Amon. Examining the spot Gwen had sucked on, he saw only a faint red scratch left by his own nails—nothing more than what had already been there in the morning. Relieved, he rubbed his eyes and lips several times, practicing a smile. He mustn’t show any anxiety or gloom before Amon.

Once ready, he headed toward the pond. By daylight, the path to the pond felt entirely different from the night before. As Amon came into view by the water, Nyne smiled and called out:

“Lord Amon.”

He was about to offer a pleasantry about how beautiful the pond looked even in the daytime—but his words caught in his throat.

“Ah…!”

It struck like a blade to the chest. Not pure awe, but a storm of emotion—like a dagger flung by the emotions themselves. Nyne blankly stepped toward the pond.

The once-tranquil area was now overwhelmed by blooms. It was as if every flower in the temple had been gathered here, flooding the air with an intense fragrance. Amid them, the god with golden eyes stood under the brilliant sun.

So many vibrant, blooming flowers surrounded him—yet in his hand, Amon quietly stared at a single, familiar yellow flower.

It was wilted.

As though it had been plucked last night, just to be placed in someone’s hair.