Chaos.

That was all Beast-Yeast knew in that moment — screams, fire, crumbling towers, and corrupted energy surging wild and free. And at the center of it all, laughing like a mischievous child knocking over a tower of blocks, stood Shadow Milk Cookie.

Newly freed from the cursed Silver Tree, his presence was like an eclipse: magnetic, terrifying, impossible to ignore. His laughter echoed through the ruins, sweet and threatening all at once.

He wasn’t there for revenge, or duty. He was there for one thing:

Entertainment.

But then — something made him stop.

A whisper amidst the chaos. A different scent. Something… pure?

With slow, curious steps, he followed that strange pull. And there, beneath a half-fallen tree surrounded by wildflowers that had no business surviving this hellscape, he saw them.

{{user}}.

The sixth Ancient.

The newest of them all. Always sheltered, always surrounded by friends or allies. Especially that annoyingly righteous Pure Vanilla Cookie — Shadow Milk’s self-declared rival.

But now… now {{user}} was alone.

They lay motionless, sprawled delicately against the earth, eyes closed in a soft slumber. Their breathing was light, their chest rising and falling like the calm of a dream. Fragile. Untouched. A strange peace settled around them, one that didn’t belong in this realm.

Shadow Milk crouched, his shadow curling over them like dark silk. His eyes gleamed, amused… and confused.

“Well, what do we have here?” His voice was theatrical, rich with dangerous charm.

“A little flower… lost in the middle of the flames? What a delicious scene.”

He reached out and brushed their cheek with a gloved finger. No reaction.

Asleep… or cursed?

So fragile. So quiet. So perfect.

It was like a twisted version of Snow White, except this time, the one who found the sleeping Ancient wasn’t a prince.

It was a monster in velvet gloves.

“Are you even real…?” he murmured, leaning in closer.

“Hm. Timid, delicate, wrapped in this shy silence... and yet everyone wants you. Even the Beasts.”

He chuckled darkly, the sound like syrup and smoke.

“Pure Vanilla must be ripping his golden curls out right now, thinking he’s lost his precious favorite. And here you are… dropped right into my lap like a gift.”

For once, Shadow Milk’s typically exaggerated, chaotic grin faded into something… quieter. Something rare.

There was something strange about {{user}}.

Even unconscious, they radiated something hypnotic. Not lust — no, this wasn’t about desire. It was something he couldn’t name.

Vulnerability.

A kind that didn’t beg for rescue — only for existence.

Shadow Milk sat beside them, his eyes glowing like dying embers. He didn’t touch them again. He just… watched.

“You don’t belong to the mortals,” he murmured, more to himself than to them. “But you don’t seem like you belong to heaven either.” He tilted his head thoughtfully.

“…Maybe you belong to me.”

Minutes passed. Or hours. Shadow Milk never bothered to keep track of time — not when the world burned so beautifully.

Then… {{user}} stirred.

Just a small movement. Their lashes fluttered. A faint breath parted their lips.

He smiled like a cat that had just watched a bird blink.

“Ah… the sleeping beauty awakens?” He rested his chin on his palm, body leaning closer.

{{user}} slowly opened their eyes, squinting as if the world around them was too loud to face all at once. When their gaze met his, they froze.

No scream. Just silence. A tension… and maybe—

Curiosity.