<A world where the Constellations have ceased their support…>
Reciting the finalized concept I had proposed, Saetbyeol rested his chin in one hand and looked at me.
<I must admit, it’s interesting. I had only expected you to pull inspiration from the past—when Constellations didn’t yet support the world.>
“We’ll present it that way for now… but I think it’ll be good to add a twist when we release the song.”
<Still, there’s something you should be aware of, Eunyul.>
Mika spoke, sipping from a straw.
<It’s true that Constellations began overtly supporting mortals after the Demon God’s invasion. But covert support? That’s been happening for far, far longer.>
“Hmm… yeah, that makes sense.”
I nodded.
As Mika said, the era of covert support by Constellations likely stretched beyond any measurable length of time. Judging by mythology and religious texts, it would be more accurate to assume they’ve been involved since well before those stories were even conceived. After all, the birth of all creation is tied to the Constellations.
“You and Saetbyeol…”
Chewing a bite of my bagel, I asked,
“If the Constellations ever do stop supporting humanity—what do you think would be the reason?”
At my question, Saetbyeol and Mika exchanged a long, sharp look.
We were seated in a meeting room at YN Entertainment headquarters.
The other members were gathered around Min Heejae, brainstorming ideas for the song’s production, while I had slipped out with Mika and Saetbyeol to get their thoughts on lyrics.
The problem was…
<Your expression is rather romantic, Mikael. Don’t tell me you’re imagining a future where mortals become self-sufficient and build their own beautiful world. You sound just like a proud little schoolchild, announcing their dreams at the front of the class.>
Saetbyeol was mocking Mika even more than usual.
<…Silence. I merely meant that until that day comes, Constellations should continue observing humanity. And what’s so wrong with a child declaring their future dreams?>
Mika’s retort was sharp, a little too invested.
“Haah…”
I sighed.
“Can we focus, please? Stop bickering like children.”
I narrowed my eyes and urged them both to get serious.
<We’re not fighting, you know.>
Saetbyeol chuckled.
<We didn’t even destroy a galaxy. That said… I did give your question some thought.>
He crossed his arms.
<Constellations don’t want mortals to reach completion—at least not to the point where support is no longer needed.>
With a rare serious expression, he continued,
<If Constellations stopped watching over the world of mortals, what else would they do? Create another universe? Craft new life? That’s all they can do. They can’t function without creation. Just look at how invested they are in mortals’ little game of idols. They need faith. They’ll get it by any means necessary.>
“They need faith…”
I repeated Saetbyeol’s words under my breath.
Yeah. In order to elevate their divine rank, they need faith. That had been proven ever since Constellations began openly supporting humanity.
But it wasn’t that faith itself had some magical property. Even if humans didn’t believe in them, the Constellations still held immense power. They had been performing miracles long before they revealed themselves.
To humans, faith is like a fragment of a miracle—an accumulation of belief that makes the impossible possible. But to Constellations…
“Faith is…”
I tried to express it more intuitively.
“…kind of like a public opinion poll?”<Or perhaps a performance review.>
Mika added.
<A Constellation’s divine rank determines their ability to influence the human world. Even a lower-ranked Constellation could destroy a planet if their divine rank allowed it. But without enough divine rank, they can’t. And the one who defines that divine rank is…>
“‘The Savior Who Is One and All.’”
<Correct. My father.>
So if you consider the Savior to be the CEO…
“…Then faith really is a performance evaluation.”
It was a fitting analogy. A Constellation’s “job” was to earn faith, and their “promotion” came through gaining more of it.
“But… why was faith chosen as the standard for evaluation in the first place?”
<That’s…>
Mika hesitated, lips pursed in an uncomfortable expression.
<Isn’t it obvious?>
Saetbyeol interjected, golden eyes gleaming.<Because Constellations do not trust mortals.>
That’s right.
The Constellations…
<No matter how powerful a Constellation may be, there’s one thing they can never attain.>
And that is faith.
<I do not trust you, mortal. You once even considered ending your own life. Granted, that was an extreme example. Your body is far too fragile. You could be killed by a flower vase someone accidentally knocks over.>
Saetbyeol sighed.
<How can I trust you? One missed meal weakens you. One bad mood shifts your emotions. One little germ renders you useless. How can I trust such a being?>
Then, nudging Mika’s shoulder, he added,
<What about you? Do you trust your contractor?>
<I…>
Mika bit his lip.
<Dojin is still just an apprentice angel…>
<That’s not the reason, is it? It’s not his status—it’s because he’s human.>
<…I admit it.>
Mika let out a reluctant sigh.
<Eunyul.>
Then he looked at me.<Humans have a certain misunderstanding.>
I thought I knew what he meant.
<If the Constellations ever cease to support humanity…>
It wouldn’t be because they were disappointed in humans.
They had never believed in them in the first place. The idea of a god believing in a mortal? Nonsense.
And if that impossible thing were to happen—
<…They will stop supporting you the day they finally believe in you.>
Fragile.
Cruel.
Hopelessly imperfect.
The moment the Constellations finally come to believe in their creation—humanity—that’s when they’ll let go.
Late at night.
Thump, thump.
“Heejae hyung, are you awake?”
After returning to the dorm and showering, I knocked on the door to Min Heejae and Madojin’s room.
There was a bit of movement before the door opened—and Madojin peeked out.
“What is it, Eunyul?”
“Ah, I just needed to talk to Heejae hyung for a bit.”
“Come in, instrument boy.”
Heejae called out from his chair.
I stepped inside their room.
“Whoa… this place is really…”
Split. Cleanly and drastically.
On one side, the spartan setup of Madojin—just a bed, desk, wardrobe, and a butterfly enclosure. On the other, Heejae’s world of music: posters, vinyls, CDs stacked neatly in shelves.
‘And that butterfly enclosure…’
That butterfly was Mika.
“…Nice room.”
I said, trying not to stare, and walked toward Heejae.
“Heejae hyung, could we talk for a sec?”
“Of course…”
Heejae smiled lightly.
“…but you seem a bit tense.”
“I just showered…”
I sighed.
“It’s kind of personal. Would it be okay if—”
I glanced at Madojin.
“Is it something that’s a problem if Dojin’s here?”
Heejae casually draped an arm around Madojin’s shoulder.
“Ugh…”
Madojin flinched visibly at the contact, groaning softly and shooting me a pleading look.
“You two seem really close.”
But I decided not to save him. I figured it’d be better if he got used to it. After all, we’d be living together for a while.
“Of course. We’re going shopping together this Sunday, right Dojin?”
“First… I’m hearing of this…”
“Hey, we agreed to speak casually. Why the formal speech?”
“Ah… First I’m hearing of this… I guess…”
Madojin gave a ridiculously forced smile.
“It’s fine. I’ve already planned everything. First, we buy clothes. Then coffee. Then we catch an orchestra concert—gotta play hard before the schedule gets insane, right?”
“Y-yeah…”
Despite trying to talk casually, Madojin had ultimately stuck to calling everyone—including younger members like Iro and Noeul—“-ssi.”
‘…He’s got a long road ahead of him.’
I chuckled at the thought.
“If it’s okay with you, I don’t mind if Dojin hears too.”
“What’s this about?”
Heejae asked, and I decided to just lay it all out.
I explained everything I’d learned through conversations with Saetbyeol and Mika—though I didn’t mention their involvement. Officially, my Constellation was still listed as the unnamed one, and Madojin was believed to be contracted with his “ancestor.”
So I presented it all as if it were my own conclusion.
“…The Constellations would stop supporting humanity only if they came to believe in them.”
“That’s a fascinating idea.”
Heejae smiled.
“Think we can reflect that in the lyrics?”
“Hm… Maybe not directly, but storytelling isn’t limited to lyrics. We could use narration in teasers or the music video.”
“Right, like a kind of worldbuilding.”
“Exactly.”
I nodded.
“So I’ve been collecting ideas, and… I think I’ll need your help to finish this story.”
“My help?”
“Yes. Because…”
Unlike Madojin or me, Min Heejae’s contract wasn’t with a typical Constellation. If we were both linked with impossibly powerful entities, he was supported by one of the weakest—
‘The Ten Kings of the Underworld.’
—Or more specifically, the childhood friend who had borrowed that title.
“So I wanted to hear it from you.”
What was it like for that friend, becoming a Constellation and returning to where they belonged?
And afterward… what happened to Min Heejae?
Little Pink Starfish 
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