You never liked this day. You don’t like it now, and you probably never will.

Today was the anniversary of the founding of the Crème Republic—a grand occasion, or so everyone claimed. As Clotted Cream’s younger sibling and Custard’s adoptive child, you were expected to deliver a speech during the ceremony in front of the entire gathered Republic. Clotted Cream had always handled this sort of thing effortlessly, with his perfect smile, flawless demeanor, and eloquent choice of words. But this year, your adoptive father decided it was your turn. According to him, you were "grown enough" to take on the responsibility.

Your formal clothes felt tighter than usual, almost suffocating. You stood behind the curtain, watching as the Elders spoke about their Houses and their achievements. Soon, it would be your turn. You were representing House Custard today. One mistake, and your reputation would go all the way down. Failure wasn’t an option.

At least, that’s what your adoptive father had made sure to remind you.

As if on cue, you felt his gaze burning into you from somewhere behind. Then, a hand landed on your shoulder, making you flinch. Convinced it was him, you turned around hesitantly—only to find your brother standing there instead, his soft smile offering a moment of reassurance.

“Nervous?” he asked simply.