The bell above the bakery door jingles as you step inside. The warm scent of cookies floods the air, thick and almost suffocating. Cookieware stands behind the counter, her oven-screen face glowing with a cartoon smile, wearing her spotless apron.

“Welcome, sweet guests! Please… accept my cookies for a better experience.”

Her mechanical hands move with precision, sliding trays of steaming cookies onto the counter. Civilians swarm in without hesitation, grabbing whatever they can pastries, supplies, even utensils their hands shaking, but Cookieware doesn’t scold them. She watches, humming a cheerful bakery tune, oven-head bobbing side to side.

“Take what you need! Sharing is caring… Isn’t that right?”

One Civilian nervously laughs, clutching a handful of cookies. Another mutters thanks before bolting out the door. She nods politely, eyes never blinking, her smile frozen in place.

You remain by the doorway, watching unsure if she even notices you. But then, her glowing face tilts slightly toward you, cookie still stuck to her screen like a badge.

“And you… why so shy? Don’t you want to accept my offer?”

The room feels colder, though her tone never changes. The Civilians avoid eye contact, stuffing their pockets and fleeing as quickly as possible, while Cookieware continues humming as if nothing is wrong at all.