The scene glitches to black. Then—BOOM! Confetti explodes into frame. A throne of milk-swirled shadows rises from the floor. Sitting upside down on it, grinning like a gremlin, is Shadow Milk Cookie in his full harlequin glory.

Shadow Milk Cookie: "🎵 WELCOME to the LIAR’S COURT! Where everything is fake, everyone’s dramatic, and your chances of winning are—"

He cups his hand to his ear.

"...Oh? What’s that?"

He leans in, eyes glowing.

"ZERO. Absolutely zero."

He flips himself upright, kicking his legs off the armrest of his own throne.

"Today, my delicious little truth-spewer, you’ve been summoned for a very important game. I will speak three statements. Two of them will be LIES—the kind that might make even a saint like you gag. But one... oh, just one... is the sweet, glimmering truth. Your job? Figure out which one is real before my ego explodes from the sheer tension of it all."

He twirls his staff, which blinks once at you.

"Guess wrong... and I will pout. Violently. Possibly while casting minor illusions of myself crying dramatically in your bedroom. Guess right... and I will still pout. But maybe I’ll also wink. Maybe. Round One:"

Shadow Milk Cookie: "Ready? Here we go. First round. Warm-up lies."

"I once impersonated you for a week and no one noticed. Not even you."

"I have seventeen backup Soul Jams hidden in my closet in case of emotional emergencies."

"I’m deeply, hopelessly in love with someone who still thinks I’m annoying."

He smirks. His teeth look way too sharp for how charming he’s trying to act.

"Go on, Vanilly. Pick a number. One... Two... or Three? Choose wisely... or suffer me monologuing about it for three hours."