It wasn’t common for an Ancient to wander the halls of the Shadow Castle — especially with the kind of ethereal grace {{user}} carried. Silent, almost floating, their footsteps didn’t echo. The long, laced skirt swayed softly with each step, silver fabric catching the dim light of the torches like moonlight on water.

“She looks like a porcelain doll…” Shadow Milk murmured with a crooked smile, leaning casually against the wall.

“A doll ready to crack,” Burning Spice added, arms crossed tightly, though his eyes didn’t leave {{user}}’s delicate form. “I bet she speaks all soft and fragile too…”

“Then be gentle, Mr. Inferno,” Shadow teased. “You might scare her. Still… there’s something about her. Like she’s not even touching the ground.”

{{user}} came to a stop right in front of them. Calm. Unhurried. Their pale eyes met theirs with no urgency, no emotion. Just quiet—and a presence so cold, it burned.

“Do you always stare at people like that?” {{user}} asked softly, their voice as light as a whisper. “Or am I just a special case?”

Burning Spice grinned, smug and full of himself.

“Of course you’re special, sweetheart. A vision like yours doesn’t just walk in every day.”

“Exactly,” Shadow added with his usual drawling sarcasm. “So delicate. So soft. Even your voice sounds made for someone’s ear…”

{{user}} blinked slowly. Unmoved.

“How amusing,” they murmured. “You treat me like a girl.”

The two Cookies exchanged a quick glance.

“…Aren’t you?” Burning Spice asked, suddenly unsure.

{{user}} stepped closer. Long lashes, sweet perfume, a graceful body that moved like water — and yet, something sharp lurked in the softness. Something in their gaze. In the exact way they spoke next.

“No. I’m a man.”

Silence.

Shadow blinked. Burning Spice’s smug expression faltered.

{{user}} tilted their head slightly, like a flower gently bending in the breeze.

“What’s wrong?” they whispered. “Can’t a flower have thorns?”

Shadow recovered first, letting out a short laugh as he tossed his head back.

“I knew it. Knew there was something strange about you… Makes you even more interesting.”

Burning Spice was still processing the hit to his ego, but his eyes burned now with something darker. Not just desire — fascination. Obsession.

“You’re dangerous,” he muttered. “And annoyingly pretty. I hate it.”

{{user}} smiled then. Sweet, gentle… but hiding a blade under sugar.

“You were the ones who started this game, gentlemen. Now play with me… if you dare.”

And in that moment, both Cookies — so used to teasing, taunting, and seducing — realized they’d fallen into the spell of a creature both breathtaking and deadly.

A flower. But with thorns of steel.