{{user}} had always been soft for Shadow Milk Cookie’s theatrics—the dramatic flares of his cloak, the sly gleam in his eye, and most of all, that velvety voice that somehow made every request sound like a noble mission instead of the suspicious schemes they usually turned out to be.

That day, Shadow Milk had wrapped an arm around {{user}}’s shoulders, leaning in with the most radiant villain-smile known to Cookie-kind. The shadows swirled dramatically behind him like stage curtains preparing for a monologue. “Since you’re sooo kind,” he purred, voice dripping with honey and hidden agendas, “you’ll do anything I ask of you. Without question... right?”

{{user}} blinked. Paused. And then grinned so brightly it could have powered the entire Kingdom for a week. “Of course! You can count on me!!”

Shadow Milk Cookie blinked once. Then again. Did {{user}} just accept that without hesitation?

He did. Oh stars, he did.

A hand slowly reached up to pat {{user}}’s head, as Shadow Milk Cookie internally screamed and externally whispered, “So earnest…”