Little Pink Starfish

Amon glanced once at the flower Nyne had been looking at.

“If you like the flower, I’ll have it planted in your garden as well.”

“Thank you, Amon-nim. I’ll take good care of it.”

Nyne smiled sweetly and gave thanks as if he had truly been interested in the flower. Then he moved his paused hand again. As his hand moved, a complex pattern bloomed on the wooden board. Since he had been coming to Amon’s sanctuary almost daily, he had run out of things to talk about, so he had brought something to pass the time.

Amon watched Nyne drawing with a face that said he didn’t understand why anyone would do something so meaningless. After Nyne finished the pattern, he admired it for a moment, then asked Amon:

“Amon-nim, would you like to try drawing one too?”

He didn’t particularly want to, but since Nyne asked, Amon took the brush respectfully offered by the priest with a willingness to try. Then, contrary to his indifferent attitude, the moment the brush touched the board, he drew straight lines without hesitation. On close look, it was the exact same pattern Nyne had drawn. What had taken Nyne an hour to complete, Amon replicated in just a few minutes. Nyne asked in amazement:

“Was this what you wanted to draw?”

“It’s not that I particularly wanted to draw it.”

As Amon pushed the board with the finished pattern away, the priests reverently took his first drawing with trembling hands. From their cautious handling, it seemed likely they’d declare it a sacred painting. Nyne smiled, recalling how last time Amon couldn’t even distinguish between a master’s work and a student’s.

“Then is there nothing in particular you wish to draw? I wanted to see a picture of your own choosing, Amon-nim. It’s a little disappointing.”

Amon paused after putting down the brush. He stared quietly at Nyne’s smiling face, then took a freshly cleaned brush from a priest. Though his expression didn’t change much as he looked down at the blank board, a rare, faint crease formed between his brows.

“Amon-nim, it’s not difficult. Just draw whatever you’d like to draw.”

Could it be that Amon had never drawn before? Or maybe he didn’t have any hobbies at all? Nyne imagined Amon sitting in the sanctuary all day like a statue, basking in sunlight. Strangely, it suited him perfectly.

“There is nothing I particularly want to draw.”

Amon spoke calmly and pressed the tip of the brush on the board, leaving a faint, wet mark. Soon, even the moisture would dry up and disappear, leaving no trace—but the priests would likely still treat it as sacred.

“How about drawing something you like? Amon-nim, don’t you enjoy sunlight? Then perhaps draw the sun, or maybe…”

Nyne’s words trailed off. He had remembered something else Amon liked. Didn’t he enjoy watching humans struggle between life and death more than anything? Would he be able to smile naturally if Amon ended up drawing dying people on the board?

Nyne noticed Amon staring at his face instead of the board and quickly smiled. Amon lowered his eyes silently, fell into thought, and then began to move the brush.

It was something Nyne should be grateful for—Amon drawing something for him. Even if it turned out to be messy like a student’s work, he resolved to offer praise without holding back. Wondering what he might be drawing, Nyne stared at the brush tip and drifted into thought again.

Lately, Nyne had been quite busy. Going back and forth between Amon’s sanctuary and the Lotus Pavilion, he publicly flaunted Amon’s favor and selected Reshas one by one to serve during Amon’s presence. Even now, one Resha was serving with a flushed face, watching Amon and Nyne like she was bewitched.

Word of Nyne’s promise to personally guide someone to the afterlife had spread like wildfire in the Lotus Pavilion, and no one volunteered themselves anymore. It was considered far better to have one’s life taken by Sha’s hand than to simply die and pass on. After receiving a token—a necklace, bracelet, or ring made of gold and jewels—from Nyne as a promise of eternal afterlife, the Reshas would meet with their families for a meal and then speak about Amon and Nyne.

Even though Osen Iyad held a high position, Sha Nyne’s title far surpassed that of a high priest. Through the Reshas, Nyne stoked the ambition of devout families—those willing to send their children to the Lotus Pavilion. As a result, he heard that families like Usur Mayri, Jehuz Idua, and others were steadily gathering and expanding their influence.

But… could a cunning high priest like Osen Iyad really be unaware of these developments? Nyne found it not just curious but unsettling that there had been no reaction at all. Could it be that Osen Iyad was simply a devout old man without ambition, contrary to what Nyne believed?

Would this plan Nyne had crafted succeed? When conflict with Osen Iyad eventually came, would Amon take his side? If what Amon truly wanted was cruel human sacrifice, then wouldn’t all of Nyne’s efforts be meaningless?

As he fell deeper into thought, a hand raised his chin, and Nyne flinched in surprise. Amon had paused his brush strokes and was staring at the absent-minded Nyne with an intense gaze. When their eyes met—gold meeting black—his scattered mind suddenly snapped awake.

“You’re lost in thought again.”

“Forgive me, Amon-nim. Perhaps because of the weather, I haven’t been sleeping well lately…”

Since it was still raining, Nyne used the weather as an excuse. It wasn’t a complete lie—during this peak rainy season, it felt like he was swimming through the air. Amon released him and resumed drawing, then spoke.

“I heard you haven’t been receiving Iyad’s rituals lately.”

“I haven’t felt the need to receive the High Priest’s ritual. Lately, my mood has been quite good, so if I received it, I might just fall asleep. However…”

Nyne glanced at Amon’s drawing and carefully chose his words. He deliberately curved his lips into a natural-looking smile and took a submissive posture.

“If Amon-nim wishes it, I will undergo the ritual.”

Of course, Nyne had no intention of obediently accepting a ritual that made him lose his memories. So tonight, he planned to meet Gwen and ask for help. Just thinking about the person he had tried so hard to ignore lately made his heart race. Afraid that the topic might return to Iyad’s ritual, Nyne quickly changed the subject.

“Amon-nim, may I make a request?”

“What do you wish for?”

“If you would kindly permit it, may I take a few accessories from your treasure vault?”

“Take whatever you wish.”

As expected, Amon seemed to have no interest at all in the treasure vault. The priests attending them, on the other hand, flinched noticeably.

Nyne himself had little personal desire for Amon’s accessories. But accessories belonging to Sha Amon held deep meaning for the devout. Even to the less devout, they would be priceless treasures with names that drew high bids. Nyne intended to distribute these items based on usefulness and necessity.

Still, he didn’t feel entirely at ease. What he was doing now was the height of sacrilege, deceiving and using his benefactor.

‘Amon treats me so well, and yet I… such betrayal.’

But he steeled his heart, reminding himself that such betrayal might one day save many people.

Suppressing the tightening guilt in his chest, Nyne focused on Amon’s painting—and his eyes widened. At last, he understood what Amon had drawn. The rough, sharp lines overlapped and connected to form… himself. It wasn’t an extremely skilled piece, but it captured his likeness well. Amon, having set down the brush, asked again:

“Is this how I should draw it?”

Without answering, Nyne gently touched the completed drawing. Though unintentional, the tips of his brows lowered naturally. Gratitude mixed with guilt churned in his stomach. No praise could dare rise to his tongue, and what came out of his mouth was a question:

“Amon-nim, am I truly the most valuable thing to you?”

“That is so.”

After answering, Amon leaned toward Nyne without even glancing at the drawing. He seemed puzzled by how Nyne, instead of rejoicing, was touching the picture with a somewhat sorrowful look.

“I’ve told you again and again that you’re the one I cherish most, the one I value most, yet you still seem unsure. Why is that?”

The golden eyes questioned him silently. I’ve given you everything you want—wealth, nobility, mountains of gold and silver, fine food and sharp-witted servants who move like the tongue in your mouth. So why aren’t you satisfied?

Nyne almost replied with a smiling, empty platitude—but when he saw his own face in the picture, he changed his mind. After swallowing dryly several times, he finally answered with a sigh.

“…Because Amon-nim does not possess a human heart.”