Little Pink Starfish

“Hoo…”

Rowen rested his chin on his hand and sighed.

Empty coffee cans rolled around him. How long had it been since he last slept? He couldn’t remember. Blackened handprints marked the keys of his keyboard.

“Is this… a slump?”

He picked up a can of coffee and muttered. Lately, his work wasn’t going well. Every track he created got scrapped, and it felt like part of his brain was paralyzed—new ideas just wouldn’t come.

[The Constellation ‘Lightning That Whirls Like the Wind’ looks at you with concern.]

[You haven’t slept in two days. It nags you that it’s time to lie down.]

‘I know that too…’

Rowen gave a bitter smile.

If even the unruly ‘Lightning That Whirls Like the Wind’ was worried, that meant he’d really been overdoing it.

He stood from his seat and left the recording room.

While sipping the canned coffee and walking down the hallway, he suddenly turned his head.

The cityscape stretched out beyond the window. The rain that had started in the morning soaked the skyscrapers. Raindrops clinging to and sliding down the glass, or perhaps his tired eyes, made it look like cracks were spreading in all directions across the window.

Lately, he had been having the same dream.

‘It was definitely weather like this.’

In the pouring rain, Rowen stood on a rooftop.

There, on the railing, stood a man with his back turned to him.

‘Who is that?’

He didn’t know. It was just a dream, so it wasn’t strange for an unfamiliar figure to appear. But Rowen couldn’t shake the feeling that he had to know who that man was.

Yes. He didn’t know who he was, but just not knowing felt sinful.

So he moved forward.

Pushing through the stinging rain, he approached.

And then, the man turned to look at him.

Rowen didn’t see his face.

More accurately, he didn’t even have time to take it in.

Because in that fleeting moment, the man vanished beyond the railing.

He might’ve been smiling, or he might’ve been crying. Only a faint emotional trace lingered where he had stood.

‘What kind of dream is this?’

Rowen tilted his head.

Weird dreams weren’t unusual, but to be haunted by the same one for days? That was something else.

[The Constellation ‘Lightning That Whirls Like the Wind’ laughs heartily.]

[That’s a clear sign if I’ve ever seen one.]

[Something’s definitely brewing!]

“Oh, is that so?”

Rowen chuckled.

True, whether due to physical or emotional stress, such dreams were surely signs of something happening.

And ‘Lightning That Whirls Like the Wind’ probably knew Rowen’s condition better than he did himself. That’s what Constellations were like—beings more familiar with their contractors’ lives than the contractors themselves. If his Constellation was speaking like this, then it was best to take it seriously.

‘Lightning That Whirls Like the Wind’ was a finicky Constellation. He seemed arrogant and chaotic, but he had sharp insight into every phenomenon. Yet he never directly shared that knowledge with Rowen.

‘Are all Greek gods like this?’

Probably not. Among the gods enshrined in the Greek pantheon, ‘Lightning That Whirls Like the Wind’ was the strongest and most self-indulgent. That explained his behavior.

“If something’s going to happen, wouldn’t it be nice if you just told me?”

Rowen asked with a faint smile.

[The Constellation ‘Lightning That Whirls Like the Wind’ flatly refuses.]

Such a crisp reply.

[Some things are better left unknown for mere creations.]

[Not because it would ruin the fun. Definitely not. So don’t press.]

“Of course…”

Rowen sat on the sofa and picked up his phone from the coffee table.

He tended to turn off his phone when working. Even though it had only been off for about six hours, there were already a flood of missed messages. He scrolled through them.

‘Persistent.’

He frowned.

His gaze stopped on a particular number.

Last month, his manager had passed on a message.

His family had tried to contact him.

His father was on his deathbed.

Rowen had cut ties with his family the moment he came to Seoul. In fact, he’d come to Seoul to cut ties.

He had never been close with them. Especially not with his father, who had been an anti-Hunter.

During the Gate era, anti-Hunters were those supported by demons. It was called “support,” but in truth, they were puppets.

Unlike Hunters, they didn’t fight on the front lines. They had no actual combat ability.

Most anti-Hunters were capitalists or politicians.

They were the kind of people obsessed with wealth and power, even when they already had more than enough. Or those who, amid the societal chaos caused by the Gates, did anything to protect their own.

They leaked human world information to demons, disrupted society, and incited the public.

In return, demons fulfilled their desires. They were kept alive, funded, or promised high positions in a future where demons ruled.

Rowen’s father was a wealthy investor.

He used his assets to sow chaos in human society for the demons’ benefit.

“It couldn’t be helped. Back then, no one thought humanity would win. I simply made a smart investment.”

That’s what his father used to say.

To him, the fate of humanity was just another stock to bet on. Between betting on humanity or demons, he had chosen the latter.

“Sora, your father regrets it.”

Of course he does. He lost almost everything and was now hiding out in the countryside.

After the Gates closed, he had plastic surgery, changed his identity, and buried his past.

Even with what little wealth he had left, he built a mansion in the countryside. Became a landowner. Had six children. Became a revered figure in his rural community.

And yet…

“…If only I hadn’t sided with the demons, I’d be living like a king right now.”

Still wrapped in greed, wasting time with delusional regrets.

‘Trash of a man.’

Rowen dismissed him outright.

If his father had spent his life in shame, maybe Rowen could have spared him some pity. But no—he had helped the demons kill people.

He had helped desecrate the survival of humanity, then retreated to a small pond to reign like a lord. His desires were pathetically transparent.

‘If a man like that dies… good riddance.’

Rowen despised his father. And everyone who shared his father’s ideology.

Becoming a celebrity had just been a side effect.

He moved to Seoul to escape his family. That was all.

Why had he made a contract with ‘Lightning That Whirls Like the Wind’?

There was a time Rowen had wondered.

Constellations usually chose contractors similar to themselves. But their personalities seemed so different.

Now, he understood.

‘Zeus fought his own father to claim the throne of the gods, didn’t he?’

He put his phone down and thought.

‘To hate a wicked father…’

That very sentiment was what bound him to ‘Lightning That Whirls Like the Wind.’ Rowen believed it without a doubt.

‘Hope you die quietly, old man.’

Muttering that, Rowen leaned back on the sofa.

---

January.

I became an adult.

But nothing really changed.

‘If anything, I guess it just means I can legally buy alcohol now.’

On New Year’s Day, Han Iro and I went to the convenience store and bought a can of beer each.

“…This tastes awful.”

“Yeah…”

We stood side by side, took a sip, and laughed bitterly.

I’d seen Min Heejae sip beer while working, so I’d gotten curious. But Iro and I both cringed at the bitter, funky taste of beer.

I received lots of congratulatory messages and gifts from fans, which was truly nice—but honestly, becoming an adult didn’t feel like a huge deal to me. I felt thankful… and a little guilty.

‘They must’ve spent a fortune on all this…’

Looking at the shelves where we stored fan gifts in our dorm, I couldn’t help but think that.

Still, January did bring some changes—regardless of my age.

The biggest change was that I started exchanging emails with Sugarbomb.

Or rather, Choi Sooyeon.

She said she had been investigating the history of Codess for a long time while running a YouTube channel focused on entertainment industry leaks.

She had uncovered some oddities in Codess’s activity and their eventual disbandment.

An idol group at the peak of its success suddenly disbanding was nothing new in the industry, but there was one detail she couldn’t overlook.

Jung Han-gyeol.

When I saw that name in Sooyeon’s letter, I tilted my head.

I had no idea who he was.

But then something strange happened.

After repeating the name a few times, a thought popped into my mind—completely unprompted.

‘Jung Han-gyeol… Wasn’t he a member of Codess?’

The answer, of course, was no.

Jung Han-gyeol had nothing to do with Codess.

So why did that thought occur to me?

[Many people feel the same way, Eunyul. Me too. For some reason, when you link that name to Codess, it just… feels like he was a member.]

[It’s strange.]

[But when you think of Jung Han-gyeol, it just feels like he was in Codess.]

Sooyeon wrote that in her email. Learning I wasn’t the only one experiencing this weird effect made me realize something was seriously off.

“Jung Han-gyeol? Who’s that? What’s he got to do with Codess?”

When I asked Han Iro, his response was similar.

“Jung Han-gyeol…”

He scratched his temple.

“…Kind of sounds like someone related to Codess, now that you mention it.”

We kept circling the idea without ever reaching the conclusion.

Who was Jung Han-gyeol?

To find out, I began secretly communicating with Sooyeon.

She had good industry connections, so I was able to get information quickly—not just about trends, but…

[Rowen’s father passed away today.]

Even things like that.

‘Wait a sec.’

I stared at the monitor.

‘…What?’

Rowen’s father… had died?