Little Pink Starfish

‘…They’ve arrived.’

I sat absentmindedly on the bed, thinking.

‘They’re here, but…’

Why doesn’t any of this feel real?

I curled up, hugging my shins. The sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows stung my eyes.

Two days had passed since we left Geahrzimen’s guesthouse and returned to Seoul. The magically restored dorm building welcomed us. Since it was literally restored by magic, the sense of dissonance I felt was only natural. If an idol went missing for over a week during their activities, there would normally be a huge uproar, but apparently, we no longer fell under such conventional standards.

‘The world is running smoothly…’

I absentmindedly stroked my phone display.

‘…and starting tomorrow, we’re back on schedule.’

It was so absurd I couldn’t help but laugh.

Surely, I wasn’t the only one thinking like this. Han Iro, Jeong Noeul, Min Heejae, Madojin—we all wandered around the dorm as if dazed.

‘Han Iro looks like a housewife on strike…’

Normally bustling around tending the garden, Han Iro now lay on the sofa, absentmindedly stroking the TV remote like he used to stroke flowers. The TV flickered through channels so quickly its voices were indistinguishable.

‘…Jeong Noeul seems to have become his successor.’

Unlike before, when he showed no interest in the garden, Jeong Noeul now quietly sat on a bench, gazing at the fully restored yard. Having directly witnessed the dorm burn down, the sight of the garden so quickly returned to perfection must have been unsettling. The same went for Han Iro, no doubt.

‘Heejae-hyung seems to have put all his records up for sale in secondhand markets…’

Since his own collection was destroyed in the fire, he said everything here was now fake. I could understand. The rare records he once owned were likely acquired with great effort. Those memories were absent from these magically restored replicas.

‘And as for Madojin…’

Strangely, the fact that he didn’t seem dazed at all made him feel abnormal in another way. He still wandered around with that blank look of his, but sometimes he used to show the curiosity of a child…

‘…but now he’s just constantly out with Mika.’

He claimed it was part of his training as an apprentice angel.

Of course, Madojin isn’t human. He’s an angel, and his work as an angel is important. Once his apprenticeship is complete, he’ll become a being completely different from us. But I won’t live to see that. As a pure human, I’ll die at around a hundred if lucky—perhaps sooner. To angels, who live forever, that’s but a blink of an eye. I won’t even witness the end of his training.

‘…I don’t like it.’

Truly, I don’t like any of it.

I wasn’t even sure what made me feel so hollow. After all, hollow means empty; looking for a source itself seemed like a mistake.

<So you’re going to sit there like that all day?>

Starlight’s voice cut through, thrown like a casual remark.

It was unsettling, how easily this guy could see right through me. I felt like a teenager whose bedroom door had been ripped off by their parents.

“It’s just… how should I put it…”

I shrugged.

“The world’s too intact, and it feels weird. Like watching some fairytale unfold.”

<So what? You’d rather the world be ruined to feel a little satisfied?>

Starlight munched on his snacks as he spoke.

“No, of course not…”

I sighed.

“I just thought… if we did something, there should be some change. We’ve gone through a lot, haven’t we? We fought Enoch—well, I was just the hostage while you fought him…”

And we handled the whole Aiden situation, too…

<And so?>

“I know people shouldn’t be aware of everything that happened. But seeing absolutely no trace of it makes me wonder—if the Constellations will always produce the optimal outcome regardless of what I do, then what’s the point of me doing anything at all?”

Maybe that’s how everyone feels.

Han Iro, Jeong Noeul, Min Heejae, Madojin—all seemed tense for some reason.

Which made even Starlight’s laziness feel different. Watching him scatter cookie crumbs on the bed, indulging in cloying sweetness, I wondered if this boredom of his was something closer to resignation.

<No, I’m like this simply because I enjoy it.>

Starlight spoke, his head flopped loosely to one side.

<And because I’m powerful enough to afford it. Of course, resignation exists for both the weak and the strong. Resignation leads to laziness, and no matter how powerful you are, you’ll end up ridiculous like me.>

Even so…

Starlight sighed.

<You seem a bit mistaken. No one realized time had frozen under Enoch’s power. Nor did anyone know guardian angels had flooded Seoul at the hands of someone attempting to become a Constellation. Such outcomes aren’t easily achieved even by the Constellations’ powers.>

Had that been so simple, you wouldn’t have needed to act.

He murmured as he lay back, gazing at the ceiling.

<It was the same when the Gates opened. Compared to what you’ve been through recently, that disaster was much greater. So great that I regret sleeping through it. That’s why its remnants couldn’t be easily handled…>

Be grateful.

He looked at me.

<Enoch’s case, and what you recently went through—they could’ve become major disasters.>

“…But you could’ve handled all of it alone, couldn’t you?”

<That’s a grave misunderstanding. Don’t fool yourself into thinking I accompany you out of some benevolent service. You’re not that naïve about me, are you?>

“Of course I’m not, but…”

<Then what’s the problem? Gods don’t assist humans purely to give. Do you think I, stripped of my Constellation authority, follow you to bestow kindness? Absolutely not.>

I’ve always received help from you.

Starlight continued.

<I was able to manifest in the human world by using you. If you hadn’t been captured by Enoch, I would’ve fought lazier. Perhaps not even fought at all. I dislike getting involved with those princely angels to begin with. Debating Mikael alone tires me out. And as for what you recently experienced…>

The matter of Aiden…

<…was truly uncomfortable. I don’t favor such methods. More precisely, I cannot employ them.>

A god, a Constellation—too grand to use a human’s methods.

Like trying to squeeze through a mouse hole with a massive human body. But passing through that tiny hole isn’t so remarkable for humans; it holds little meaning for them.

Is that really true?

Perhaps squeezing through is remarkable in its own way. Dodging people’s gazes, slipping through tight spaces—it can feel miraculous.

<…Exactly so.>

Starlight spoke nonchalantly.

Surely, if it had been Starlight, he would’ve either idly observed or swiftly eliminated Aiden. Compared to him, second only to the Savior Who Is One and All in existence, everything I went through was trivial—barely worth an evening’s recollection.

<Indeed, most humans have forgotten him. The world was conveniently rewritten. But the Constellations never saw the process. That is a power you hold as a human.>

Therefore…

Starlight sat up.

<Since things will get busy again tomorrow, would you like to go see something interesting?>

“…Interesting?”

I tilted my head, prompting Starlight’s mischievous smile.

It was so playful, it felt ominous.

<Aiden’s ties aren’t limited to you or your friends. He surely had parents, even comrades.>

Ah… I exhaled.

Right. I’d been so frantic I forgot.

What happened to Rowen?

Unlike the other members of Codess, Rowen learned of Aiden’s secrets through me. Did the Constellations rewrite his memories as well? And if so, how?

“…Is it okay for me to go see him?”

I asked hesitantly.

I lacked the courage. Whether Rowen was living peacefully with his memories wiped, or holding faint traces of bitterness—it would feel uncomfortable either way.<Not necessarily.>

Starlight tossed me my coat.

<If discomfort was all you’d feel, why would Constellations take such interest in this world?>

Get up.

With that, Starlight opened the door and headed to the living room.

I grasped the coat in my hand and looked up at the ceiling.

The blank white ceiling stared back—so white it reminded me of that vast, pale heaven I glimpsed when facing the Savior Who Is One and All.

‘True.’

If discomfort were all I’d feel, why would the Constellations ever watch over creation from their omnipotent perch?

I threw on the coat carelessly.

As someone who’s seen everything and felt everything, I have a duty to meet Rowen.

Just as the Constellations watch over their creations.

I pulled up my hood.

‘If he remembers even a little…’

What should I say to Rowen?

I still had no clear answer. Much like how even omnipotent Constellations are often flustered by the many small and large events unfolding in this world.