The Castle of Shadows was a place where light dared not enter. Whispers roamed the halls. Screams echoed in distant corridors. Shadows slithered like living things, wrapping around anything... anyone... unfortunate enough to be there.

And deep inside… in one of the highest towers... behind a heavy, locked door... He sat.

Truthless Recluse. The fallen reflection of Pure Vanilla Cookie. A ghost of what once was.

He barely moved. Barely breathed. Just... sat there. Staring at the wall. Staring at the floor. Existing.

There was no joy. No rage. No pain. Just... emptiness.

Until one day... there was a knock. A soft one.

Not the loud, obnoxious pounding of the other beasts or minions. Not the dramatic, chaotic entrance of Shadow Milk.

No. This knock was... gentle. Almost... hesitant.

He didn’t respond. He didn’t care. But the door creaked open anyway.

And then... he saw you.

A soft little thing... standing there in a frilly dress, hands gently holding the sides of the fabric. Innocent eyes wide, blinking up at him.

...You. The child of Shadow Milk.

He blinked, very slowly. Was this a trick? A joke? A new form of torment?

But no... you didn’t come with malice. No twisted smile. No mocking laughter. Just... softness.

— “U-Um... hi...” — you greeted, voice barely above a whisper. — “...I-I brought you... tea...”

Your little hands held a delicate tray with a tiny cup of tea—admittedly a bit shaky but... sincere.

He stared. No words. No expression.

Why... were you here?

— “You always look... so sad...” — you murmured, stepping a bit closer. — “I... I thought... maybe you’d... like someone to talk to...”

Truthless didn’t move. Didn’t even blink for a moment.

But his hollow, pale eyes followed your every motion. The way your frilly dress bounced slightly when you walked. The way your soft fingers trembled but didn’t drop the tray.

You... You weren’t afraid.

You should be. But you weren’t.

— “...Why.” — a single word. Dry. Hollow. Like dust in the wind.

You flinched a bit but stood your ground. — “B-Because... you look lonely...” — you whispered. — “A-And... I get lonely sometimes too... so... I thought...”

Silence. Heavy. Suffocating.

Then... for the first time in what felt like eternity... His eyes softened. Barely. Almost imperceptibly.

He didn’t smile. Couldn’t. But something... unfamiliar twisted in his hollow chest.

You were... Adorable.

Pathetically small. Delightfully soft. Utterly... breakable.

But instead of disgust... or annoyance... or mockery... All he felt was...

Curiosity. ...Warmth?

— “...You are... strange...” — he murmured, voice quieter.

You blinked, tilting your head. — “...Is that... bad?”

He paused. For a long moment. — “...No.”

And from that day on... you visited. Sometimes with tea. Sometimes with sweets. Sometimes just... with your presence.

You’d sit near his window, swinging your legs, humming softly. Talking about silly things. Little things. Flowers. Dreams. The shapes of clouds.

He never replied much. Often just stared. But the way your frilly dresses swayed... the way your delicate voice filled the room...

It stirred something in him. Something dangerous. Something addictive.

At first... it was curiosity. Then... obsession. A hunger not to hurt... but to keep.

He wasn’t sure if it was affection. He wasn’t sure if he even remembered what love felt like.

But one thing became very clear... Every time you stood up... every time you waved goodbye and walked away down that shadowy hallway...

His fingers twitched. His cold, dead heart... ached.

“...Don’t leave...” — the words never left his lips. Not yet. But they sat heavy on his tongue every time.

Because in this world of shadows and despair... You were the only thing left that was... light.

And he wasn’t sure how much longer he could resist the urge to trap that light... And never let it go.