Little Pink Starfish

‘Ryu Eunyul? What kind of person is he?’

The Star Hated by All rested his chin on his hand. He felt like bursting into laughter. But time and place mattered.

Across from him sat the PD, a creature in comfortable clothing, gazing at him with curious eyes. Behind the PD, the camera remained fixed, silently recording the image of the Star Hated by All. He thought once again how this entire setup resembled a playground made for the constellations.

A playground. Was there any word more fitting for this world? The countless playgrounds created by the Savior Who Is One and All were being watched by the stars—constellations who multiplied like countless stars in the sky. They watched the lives of mortals with delight, sorrow, or moments of realization. Yet, all of it was ultimately futile.

Just as mortals repeat the same mistakes through generations, so too do the constellations repeat their misjudgments over eternal time. Every world repeatedly faces crises, and the constellations watching over them remain careless time and again.

Thus, a constellation deciding to support the entertainment industry was a rather lazy decision—one fitting for them.

The Star Hated by All thought so.

<Truthfully, I had little interest in the entertainment industry.>

He spoke with a gentle smile.

<I even held some distaste toward it.>

At those words, curiosity flashed in the PD’s eyes.

<The entertainment industry is deeply intertwined with capitalism. It’s entrenched in modern society’s discourse of discrimination and labor issues, while also adept at concealing them. That, I thought, made it especially vile.>

“Uh….”

The PD opened his mouth, flustered.

“I think we might have to edit that part out….”

<Edit it if you wish. Or not. Wouldn’t it make for good buzz to have a simple road manager say something this provocative?>

The Star Hated by All shrugged.

<Let’s continue. The entertainment industry is indeed tightly bound to capitalism. The idols exposed to the public go through training without ever learning capitalism itself. The fans consuming their content don’t consider the capital behind it either. Meanwhile, the capitalists behind the scenes quietly smile. That’s why the entertainment industry can never escape controversy.>

Even after constellations began sponsoring the entertainment world, the issue remained unsolved. Capital had long permeated human civilization, its pros and cons undeniable, but capital was now so deeply embedded that even discussing its merits had become meaningless.

Humans bind themselves through capital. The constellations seemed to believe such restraints needed to exist in the mortal world.

<…And so, I held a bit of distaste for the entertainment world.>

In some ways, this current age might be even more sinister than the era of the Gates.

The Star Hated by All thought so.

Clear battles of good and evil were easy to record. History had always been written that way. The Demon God was a perfect adversary for humanity to unite against. Hunters who once clashed over interests held hands when faced with a common enemy.

But what about now?

Though disguised as peaceful, war continued in smaller, almost invisible ways. People remained locked in competition, yet too ignorant to even recognize it as war.

<And then I met Ryu Eunyul…>

The Star Hated by All laughed aloud.

<He was… an utterly ordinary person.>

That was the only conclusion he could reach.

Ordinary human.

Never once did the Star Hated by All consider Ryu Eunyul exceptional.

Among humans, talent is often the measure of exceptionalism. But to him, all humans—no matter how brilliant—looked like little more than lumps of flesh. Even so-called geniuses felt no different.

Thus, he was certain: exceptionalism was not rooted in talent.

Humans often see superiority in what is inhuman—those who feel no joy, who know no sorrow. Lacking humanity itself gives the illusion of greatness.

Ryu Eunyul had none of that.

<Which is why I liked him.>

The Star Hated by All brushed back his hair.

<The talent to be angry when appropriate, to grieve when appropriate—this is rare. Especially in times like now, when people are told to suppress anger and hide sadness. That’s why I’ve watched Eunyul with admiration.>

“Do you mean as his manager? Or as his close hyung?”

How foolish, this creature.

Of course I mean as a god.

The Star Hated by All paused.

<As a manager, I observe idol Ryu Eunyul up close. He’s talented at singing and writing lyrics. Otherwise, his abilities are average, but he works hard and overcomes obstacles. He often gets flustered and worries, which is amusing.>

And as for human Ryu Eunyul…

He paused again.

<I hope he can simply be happy.>

That was his sincere truth.

The life of mortals was wretched.

To one who had lived as an immortal for ages, mortal life seemed so fleeting, so empty.

They collapse before misfortune, some ending their own lives.

The Star Hated by All still couldn’t fully understand mortal existence.

Back when he sat on Hell’s throne, he often spoke with souls who had ended their lives, still burdened by the weight even after death.

‘Do you resent god?’

he would ask.

They shook their heads.

They resented themselves.

‘You have no right to resent yourself. Blame god instead.’

He tried to comfort them so.

But they found even blaming god difficult—they had never truly believed in god to begin with.

To resent oneself was sin. Their bodies had been created by god’s power; to curse oneself was to insult god.

Absurd, thought the Star Hated by All.

Yet even he, though called King of Hell, was a creation of the Savior Who Is One and All. Having opposed that supreme god, he was himself a blasphemer.

‘I do not resent myself.’

He often told the souls.

‘So tell me your story—what made you resent yourself?’

And so, he listened.

He couldn’t understand why they would direct sin at themselves.

Many believed suicide itself was a sin.

‘Is that really so?’

He doubted.

‘You left the world for your own peace. You chose death as a way to ease your suffering. I wish you could feel at least a bit of pride in that choice. Your suffering was never something you were meant to bear alone.’

Of course, those were words meant to comfort.

But if anyone left this flawed world, suffering through pain caused by a god-made system, then the responsibility for that grief rested with the gods. This world was a mess—not because mortals lacked ability, but because the gods were lacking.

The Star Hated by All believed himself lacking.

<I simply wish him happiness…>

That was all he could hope for.

If Ryu Eunyul had succeeded in taking his own life, it would’ve been his own failing.

‘Had I met him in Hell…’

He imagined Eunyul’s face, twisted in grief, and bitterly smiled.

That’s what it means to be King of Hell.

The Savior Who Is One and All had cast him into hell because it was the seat where all contradiction and sin must gather.

Gods never suffer for their lack. Sitting on Hell’s throne made him realize his insufficiency. The Savior Who Is One and All thought that knowledge would bring him pain—but instead, he was glad.

‘I know something no god knows.’

That became his driving force.

“Then… one last question.”

The PD spoke.

“Is there anything you want to say to Eunyul? Maybe something you’ve never been able to say?”

<…Something I’ve never been able to say?>

The Star Hated by All tilted his head.

Was there such a thing?

He considered himself shameless.

<Ah. There is one thing.>

He smiled.

And thought of all the absurd times spent with Ryu Eunyul.

It was sheer chaos. He never expected to contract with a creature sprawled after a car crash. A pitiful mortal who nagged constantly. He had to grant him the power of hell’s relics just to make him sing. The entire process was nothing but a clown’s farce.

But a clown is the only one who can joke in the king’s presence.

<…It was fun.>

He said.

To his supreme clown.

The contractor who could make even him smile.