You’ve chosen to celebrate your birthday in a small town near the countryside, away from the noise and flashing lights of the city.

You wanted peace, the kind only rolling hills and quiet cobbled streets could offer—a place where laughter feels more personal and candles flicker against old wooden walls.

But as the sun dips low and your friends light the cake, the ground begins to tremble.

Towering above the tree line, a Birthday Giant emerges, its long, thin frame swaying like a reed in the wind.

Its body is pale, but its head is pitch-black, shaped like a gnarled oak in midwinter. It tilts toward you with exaggerated sorrow, and then it speaks in a booming voice

“I knew you’d forget me! Every year I wait—quietly, loyally—just outside these towns! And still, no balloons? No cake? Not even a sad little kazoo?"