Little Pink Starfish

The many tails the giant fox had been waving suddenly merged into one. At the same time, large and small foxes appeared, flipping through the air, and fiercely attacked the hunters. Kaeng! Kyaeng! The sharp cries of foxes mixed with the screams of humans. Ebi curled up tightly inside the thick fur, eyes shut.

“Damn it! So the shaman of this area was just a fox yokai?!”

The woman shouted, having lost her companions in an instant. Her voice was so loud it didn’t sound human, and Ebi peeked out in surprise. The hunters were either convulsing and foaming at the mouth or half-crazed, laughing while throwing away their weapons and clothes.

The woman was the only one who seemed to remain sane. She glared at the white foxes tumbling near her with glowing blue eyes, as if mocking her.

“Since you’ve discovered the secret, you must now die.”

The giant fox said gently, but the blue-eyed hunter twisted her face into a demon’s. The foxes, mid-flip, all opened their red mouths wide and leapt at her. Their sharp teeth gleamed like awls.

“Even if I die, I won’t die alone!”

Ebi never thought Arang would be defeated. Arang was the gumiho all foxes looked up to. Not just foxes—other yokai too would bow their heads before the white fox with nine tails. That’s how powerful this ancient yokai was.

But the woman showed unbelievable strength. Her body swelled into a giant form and threw foxes aside after ripping them apart. With a sharp Kyaeng! the foxes vanished in blue fox fire. Ebi’s eyes widened.

Just when he thought a familiar white hand had grabbed him, he realized he was now in a fox’s mouth. Carefully holding the small mouse-shaped Ebi without hurting him, the fox ran across a quiet street. Once they had reached a far enough distance, the tail fox gently put Ebi down. Ebi immediately tried to run back to Arang, but the tail fox pressed him down with one paw, flattening him.

“Arang!”

Struggling to escape the fox’s paw, Ebi anxiously tapped the ground with his tiny feet. At that moment, a blue flame shot up in the distance. The giant fox and a mysterious figure were tangled in a fight of blue fire. The field mouse’s black eyes widened.

Then the color of the fire Arang was fighting began to shift—from blue to red, then to a dark, ominous crimson. The blue fox fire opened its jaws wide and devoured the cursed flame, growing larger. Then the fire shrank with a sudden whoosh.

As if struck, the tail fox leapt back and vanished like smoke. Ebi shot up and transformed back into a fox, dashing toward where the fire had raged.

“What is that human?”

Was it even human? Or just someone with enormous shamanic power? Ebi couldn’t tell. He lacked experience in matters like this. When he arrived, there was only thick fog where the fire had been. Within the fog, the giant fox stirred and slowly rose.

One, two, three… the tails fanned out.

Four, five, six, seven.

Eight.

Then, the massive form shrank and became human again. Ebi’s eyes wavered as he counted. Why wasn’t there a ninth tail? Did I count wrong? Or was Arang that seriously hurt…?

Soon, Arang, now neatly dressed again, waved a pale hand.

“Little fox, come here.”

Ebi slowly stepped into the fading fog. As he approached Arang’s feet and lifted one front paw, Arang’s soft robes wrapped gently around him, picking him up. Ebi sniffed all over with his black nose, worried something was injured—but he couldn’t smell blood.

“Originally, I should’ve let them take you.”

With a strangely twisted smile, Arang stroked the small fox fur in his arms.

“I…”

He started to say something, then stopped. A fleeting trace of pain passed over his face, like he almost said something forbidden. To comfort him, Ebi rubbed his damp nose gently against Arang’s cheek.

“I couldn’t completely avoid it. But I wanted to choose the path that hurt you the least, my little fox.”

Your pain now feels like mine. With a voice like from the depths of a cave, the giant fox embraced the little one tightly, full of affection. Buried in the fur, Ebi raised his head and nuzzled it into Arang’s neck. From inside the white fur, a small kaeng sound came, and Ebi’s red tail slowly swayed.

“Poor thing. May the pain you’ll face be only fleeting…”

The fox shaman’s face was terribly pale as he made this ominous prophecy. Arang gently gripped Ebi’s scruff, and in his white face, golden beast eyes shimmered. Ebi shivered without meaning to, and was about to ask what pain awaited him—when a powerful force entered his body, and suddenly, his fox disguise broke.

Ebi, now a blue goblin flame, was sucked into someone’s grasp. A strong hand caught him. Ebi immediately recognized the hand’s owner—Mangryang King, Igok.

“Igok-nim…!”

Startled, Ebi curled up. A heavy, chilling energy was flowing from Igok’s body.

But Igok wasn’t alone. Soil stood beside him, checking the still-burning blue fox fire or listening to the far-off sirens. On the wall, Sowol fanned herself with a smile, and heavenly soldiers arrived, wrapped in thin, silvery cloth that looked like it was made of mist.

Igok didn’t care who was watching. In a cold voice, he warned:

“You do not recklessly ask or answer a shaman.”

“Yes, sir,” Ebi replied, still casting worried looks toward Arang. He had heard it from Arang—shamans interpret celestial secrets and only reveal vague hints. Handling such secrets could be dangerous.

Tonight, Arang’s pale face suggested it was either due to the fight with that strange person, or because he had broken a taboo. Or perhaps both. Ebi couldn’t stop thinking about the ninth tail that wouldn’t appear.

Soil slowly waved his fan. Golden petals fluttered down. Many landed on Arang; others gathered at scorched marks—the remains of the woman who had died in the black-red flames. Not even a bone fragment remained.

Clack. Soil closed the fan and sighed.

“You are guilty. Quite a mess you made.”

“It was an unavoidable situation,” Arang replied.

“It didn’t look that way to me.”

A heavenly soldier grumbled, likely annoyed about overtime. But Arang just wore his usual pale, gentle expression. Soil asked with a tired face:

“The dead will pay their price in the afterlife. But Lord Nohojeong must pay for the living.”

That meant paying in gold. Thankfully, Arang smiled and said, “Luckily, I’ve saved quite a lot.” He pulled out gold lumps from his sleeve and handed them to the heavenly soldiers. Ebi, thinking some of that gold was probably his, tried to feel less guilty.

As the heavenly soldiers opened their fans to clean up the scene, one golden petal floated down and stuck to Ebi. Sowol, who had come down from the wall, chuckled, swiping the petal with her fingertip. Then she narrowed her eyes and sent him a teasing smile. The goblin fire flickered as Ebi awkwardly asked:

“Am I guilty too?”

“I’ll let it slide, for old time’s sake.”

“I knew it. Only you understand me, Sowol…”

He murmured sweetly, and suddenly Igok, cold-faced, took a small gold earring from his sleeve and tossed it to Sowol. She caught it with a flick of her hand—“Got it!” Immediately, Ebi switched gears.

“There was never anyone but Igok-nim for me from the start.”

Igok sighed lightly and turned around, as if his only goal from the beginning was to take care of Ebi. In his sleeve, Ebi curled up. Arang’s injuries still weighed on him—but what bothered him more was that woman with the blue eyes.

Why had those hunters come after him? Were they descendants of the cursed human Igok once spoke of? What was the pain Arang had spoken of? Could the scholar be involved somehow? Who was the ancient enemy who had harmed something precious to him?

Ebi looked up from inside the sleeve toward Igok, but couldn’t bring himself to speak.

It was strange.

Despite having Arang, Sowol, Igok, and even Dongjitdal—those he’d known for so long—right by his side, the person he wanted to tell everything to, after all his worrying, was Saeon.

Even now, the goblin’s heart was naturally leaning toward the hunter.

He had, without realizing it, fallen too deeply for Saeon.