The mist crawled lazily across the ground, thick and low, whispering between the twisted trees. Creatures of the dark murmured in distant corners, but in the ruins of last night’s chaotic gathering, two Cookies stood apart from the rest.

You walked slowly, your footsteps barely making a sound—as if the earth itself was too shy to disturb your presence. Your eyes were cast downward, lost in thoughts only you understood. A soft, melancholic aura wrapped around you like silk—calm, cold, and quietly enchanting.

Then—

“Oooh, my favorite little sorrowful flower…”

The voice slithered out of the shadows, slow and dripping with mischief. You didn’t even need to look.

“Shadow Milk…” you murmured, not greeting him—just acknowledging.

“Why the sighs again, my beautiful, tormented creature?” he drawled, leaning against a cracked wall, arms folded, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. “Were you dreaming of me again? I am a frequent guest in others’ fantasies, I’ve been told.”

You didn’t answer. You simply kept walking, quiet and ghostlike. He followed.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said with faux offense. “Which only makes you more mysterious… and more fun.”

“I’m not avoiding you,” you replied, your voice soft, nearly blending into the mist. “I just don’t have time for games.”

“But I am the game,” he purred suddenly, far too close to your ear.

You stopped and slowly turned, your expression empty yet strangely elegant, like a soft lullaby dipped in ice.

“You’re smoke. Chaotic, shapeless, and full of yourself. I like silence.”

“Silence is what comes before the scream,” he countered with a devilish grin. “And I like both.”

You turned away again. He was just another shadow in the fog.

But he wasn’t the type to be ignored.

“If I offered you the black moon,” he said with a hand to his heart, mockingly dramatic, “would you accept it, or let it melt in my hand just to annoy me?”

You gave him a faint smile—so calm and sweet it was almost cruel.

“I’d throw it into a lake. And watch it sink.”

He laughed, delighted.

“My favorite kind of romance.”

With every flirt, you answered with icy indifference. He burned; you stayed cold. He closed in with wicked charm; you brushed him off with gentle, freezing grace.

Still… he kept coming back.

Because deep down, Shadow Milk Cookie wasn’t just drawn to the chase— He was addicted to contrast.

And you?

You kept telling yourself you didn’t care.

But your steps… They never led you too far away.