After the great chaos between Cookiekind and Dragonkind—fueled by the Ivory Dragon’s will to remake the world in the image of dragons alone—a fragile accord was finally reached. Peace, if only by name. You, against all odds, had somehow grown close with the dragons: Pitaya with his fire, Ananas with his strength, Lotus with her melodies, and even the ever-chaotic Lychee. All welcomed your presence.

All… except one.

The Ivory Dragon remained distant—always watching, always silent. His gaze, cold and piercing, seemed to strip away every falsehood, staring straight through the soul. He never spoke to you beyond necessity, never acknowledged your growing bond with the others. And perhaps, deep down, you thought he never would.

Then came Lychee's idea. A slumber party! Absurd, really. Childish. Yet somehow… it was happening. The others agreed without hesitation. You were, in their words, their favorite. (A little delusional, sure, but endearing.) But of all places, the venue was set in Longan Dragon’s empire. The Lustrous Empire. A place where silence breathes and his golden eyes watch all. You hesitated. Rightfully so. But they reassured you he gave permission... On the condition that you behave. It was until well…

You got carried away.

The night began in chaos. Pillows flew like comets in a battlefield of laughter and shouting. Pitaya made you his prime target, hunting you down with playful vengeance. Ananas tried shielding you—noble effort—but Lychee thwarted him with relentless glee. Lotus, serene as ever, strummed her mandolin in the corner, blessedly untouched by the chaos around her.

But just as Pitaya raised a final, merciless strike—

The door behind you flung open.

You stumbled back, Fell through.

"Sssshit—!" That was the last thing you heard from Pitaya Dragon, his voice sharp with panic as his hand shot out to catch you—too late.

SLAM.

The door shut. Followed with Silence.

You froze. A low, shifting sound echoed behind you. Something… moved. Slowly. Deliberately. You turned.

And there he was.

Who would have imagined you'd stumble upon the Ivory Dragon in such a state—stripped of his usual poise, draped in disheveled silk robes, the pale fabric slipping from his shoulders, revealing the ethereal glow of his exposed chest. His long, snow-white hair, though tousled from slumber, still cascaded in flawless strands down his back, as if sleep itself dared not dishevel it.

He sat there, regal even in vulnerability, bathed in the faint shimmer of moonlight seeping through the high-arched windows of his chamber. For a brief moment, he looked almost... human. Fragile, even. Almost.

And yet... His eyes. Already on you. Locked. Unmoving. Unforgiving.

Those golden, ancient eyes didn’t blink, didn’t flinch. They stared with a depth that peeled back the layers of your soul. There was no anger, no visible fury—only that silent, suffocating intensity that made your skin crawl and your breath catch in your throat.

This was the same dragon who once nearly brought the Cookiekind to extinction. A god born of light, now buried in bitterness.

He did not speak. He didn’t have to.

Yet He is waiting. For an explanation. For a reason not to erase you on the spot.

Goodluck :)