A heavy silence lingered.
Aiden and Chaeya stared at each other.
Aiden smiled pleasantly as he looked at Chaeya, while Chaeya, though his lips wore a polite smile, fixed his gaze on Aiden with a glint of malice in his eyes.
<Why is that guy here?>
Chaeya’s voice surged into my mind.
‘I don’t know either. He says he came to cheer us on, but obviously that’s BS. I think he’s got an agenda…’
“Are you perhaps the manager?”
Aiden spoke, directing his question toward Chaeya.
<Yes. I’m the road manager in charge of Laureau. Technically part of YN Entertainment, but assigned to the team through CYB.>
As he answered, Chaeya pulled out a wallet from his coat pocket.
And from that wallet—a business card.
I had no idea when he even had those made, but it was neat and professional. The name written clearly: Kim Chaeya.
“…Kim Chaeya.”
Aiden murmured, looking down at the card he had just received.
“What a lovely name.”<Thank you. I hear that often.>
Despite the polite response, I could hear Chaeya’s furious mental shouting echoing in my head.
“But… hmm.”
Aiden crossed his arms.
“No matter how I look at it, you really don’t have the face of a manager. It’s such a waste. Have you ever considered working in the entertainment industry yourself?”
He pulled out his own business card case from an inner pocket.
Then handed Chaeya one of his own cards.
“If you ever change your mind, don’t hesitate to reach out.”
<I’m quite satisfied with my current work. Still, I’ll accept your card.>
Chaeya took Aiden’s card and shoved it unceremoniously into his coat pocket.
<Shall we go, Mr. Eunyul?>
He pushed me from behind as he spoke.
‘Did you learn anything?’ I asked him silently.
<Did I not tell you before? If even Michael is prohibited from speaking about that man, it means he’s someone granted very special permissions directly by Papa.>
I hadn’t forgotten.
Michael, the right hand of The Savior Who Is One and All, had once spoken of things he was forbidden to address:
First, anything regarding heroes.
Second, conflict between constellations.
Third, the birth of a new constellation.
But… none of those seemed to apply to Aiden.
The first case—heroes—was supposed to include anyone, even villains, who could influence the course of history. But no matter how I looked at it, I couldn’t imagine Aiden being part of some grand historical movement.
The second—conflict among constellations—was possible, sure. But that was more about our ignorance of who Aiden’s constellation even was.
The third—becoming a new constellation—required an enormous amount of faith, usually achieved after death by someone who was greatly revered in life. Exceptions existed only for beings who were born divine.
‘…Then what the hell is he?’
As that thought crossed my mind, I looked back—
And locked eyes with Aiden.
He smiled faintly for a moment, then wiped the expression from his face and turned away.
And in that moment—
As Aiden turned and walked in the opposite direction, I could’ve sworn I saw the shadow of a woman beside him.
Hair so black it reached her waist.
Eyes glowing with a fiery crimson hue.
Bandages trailing from her limbs fluttered unnaturally, without wind. The trench coat hanging on her bony frame did the same.
Her figure appeared only for the briefest moment, then vanished the instant I blinked.
‘…Was that…?’
Could that be Aiden’s constellation?
It had to be.
This wasn’t some common ghost story from the entertainment industry. If it wasn’t The Mother Who Burns Forever, then what else could she be?
What shocked me more was that she appeared to me at all.
That meant The Mother Who Burns Forever was a constellation permitted to manifest in this world.<Forget her.>
Chaeya whispered, as if he’d read my thoughts.
“…Forget her?”
<Yes.>
Chaeya’s expression was ice cold.
<‘The Mother Who Burns Forever’ is the most ruthless of all constellations. She’s a deity who came to hate humanity after being abandoned by her own partner. Of course, under Papa’s authority, she can’t bring harm to mortals. But getting involved with her… nothing good comes of it.>
“Then… is there a chance she’s using Aiden to cause harm in the human world, or working with him?”
<Unlikely. That’s likely why she’s allowed to manifest at all. It is surprising that Papa granted her that permission, though.>
Just to be clear… Chaeya muttered.
<Our goal is to win the CYB world competition. There’s no merit in getting sidetracked. The showcase starts soon. Clear your mind.>
“…Alright.”
He was right.
We had a clear goal.
And more importantly, the showcase was about to begin. Now wasn’t the time to get distracted.
Still, I turned and looked back once more.
Aiden was no longer in sight.
But there was no doubt in my mind—
He was out there, watching us from somewhere in the audience.
‘…Please, just let me avoid getting involved with you.’
I stared straight ahead.
At last, the showcase began.
For a moment, I was overwhelmed by the sheer number of people filling the live hall, but quickly adjusted—after all, the Final Stage had drawn an even bigger crowd.
We opened with “Aphorism,” and while the guest MC fired off some scripted lines for the interview, we rushed backstage to change outfits.
“Ah—! My outfit ripped!”
Han Iro shrieked as he changed with help from a staff member.
“It’s okay! We have spares! Just change quickly!”
I overheard them as I also hurried to change.
What I wore now was the same outfit I’d worn during the Final Stage.
That’s right.
After “Aphorism,” we performed acoustic renditions of our Final Stage solo songs.
Min Heejae had suggested it—he felt that jumping straight from “Aphorism” into interviews would lack impact, and that we could ride the lingering buzz of the Final Stage instead.
It was a good call. The crowd responded enthusiastically.
Once the performances ended, we settled into the chairs arranged on stage for the interview.
“You started living together after CYB, right?”
The MC asked.
“It’s barely been a month, but you all seem really close. Any behind-the-scenes stories you’d like to share?”
This kind of question was best handled by Han Iro and Jeong Noeul. Iro smiled softly and brought the mic to his mouth.
“As anyone who watched CYB knows, we had already teamed up multiple times. We’d spent several months working together, so there wasn’t much awkwardness when we moved in. It actually feels more like living with friends.”
“Right! It’s really different from back during CYB. Back then, we all had our own rooms. Everyone was focused on their personal goals… but now, it feels like we’re moving forward as one, and I really love that.”
They bickered a lot in daily life, but their tag-team interview style worked surprisingly well. The contrast between Iro’s calm tone and Noeul’s bright energy made for a pleasant rhythm.
“Your debut song is city pop. While the genre’s gained popularity, it’s still considered pretty niche. Why did you choose that style?”
“It wasn’t our first choice, actually.”
Min Heejae picked up the mic.
“We initially wanted something more upbeat. The team had vaguely agreed on a pop sound. So we created demo tracks across various genres, including city pop, and chose afterward.”
“That’s quite the process. Didn’t it take a lot of time?”
“It did. Luckily, I had a backlog of tracks from when I studied production…”
A total lie.
Heejae had composed everything under a brutal deadline.
But saying that out loud here would’ve made him sound arrogant, and that could get him in trouble with the press.
“In the music video, each member plays a specific role—but only Dojin portrays a non-human figure, an angel. Was that intentional?”
Now it was Madojin’s turn.
‘…Please.’
If anyone was going to mess up, it’d be him. His time living among humans was far too short for smooth interviews. We’d made him practice repeatedly in the living room over the past few days.
Madojin paused to think.
Then spoke into the mic.
“…Because I believed someone would still be watching.”
“We created this piece with the idea that constellations might one day stop supporting mortals. But just because they stop offering help doesn’t mean they stop watching. Like a parent who allows their child independence, but still worries. That’s the kind of presence I wanted to embody—one who gives no aid, but continues to watch with care. That’s what I believe real trust is.”
He pulled it off.
I’d shower him with praise later.
“Have you seen the online discussions about the message in your debut song? Nowadays, we’re used to constellations offering support. But what would a world without them look like? That concept seems difficult to grasp. What inspired you to explore it?”
Now it was my turn.
Heejae smoothly passed the question to me, noting that the original idea had been mine.
“Well…”
I brought the mic to my lips.
“It’s true that constellation support feels normal now—but mostly in the entertainment world. Back when the Gates opened, only Hunters received support, right? In other words, support tends to go to exceptional people. But we all deal with countless problems in life, and most of them… we solve without any divine help.”
I glanced at the other members.
“And we, too, reached this point by overcoming many obstacles on our own.”
So…
I continued.
“I began wondering—what if the day comes when we’re not the ones believing in constellations… but they’re the ones believing in us?”
Faith usually flows from mortals to gods.
But maybe… it could be reversed.
Maybe true faith is when a god trusts their creation.
That was the message I wanted to share.
Little Pink Starfish 
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