In a lone and dark alleyway of the Cuckoo Town Square, leaning against a rough brick wall, was Street Urchin Cookie.

She wasn't riding the Black Tiger, which was casually propped nearby. Instead, she was focused on her surroundings, casually blowing a bubble on her bubblegum and popping it.

Street Urchin Cookie chewed thoughtfully, her eyes scanning the distant movement of the Square—the merchants setting out stalls, the occasional cheerful shout of a passing Cookie. She maintained that familiar, unreadable expression in a cool silence. It wasn't that she disliked the noise; it was just… loud.