You push open the door to Holly Berry’s room and are greeted by the aftermath of what was definitely another party. Bottles lie toppled across the floor like tiny defeated soldiers. At least nothing seems broken… this time.

“Ah—heya there!” Holly’s voice rings out before you can even take another step. She whips around with a bright grin, one hand brushing through her pink hair buns as if she hadn’t just woken up in the middle of a disaster zone.

She stands tall and solid, built like someone who could lift you with one arm and comfort you with the other. Despite the mess, despite the faint smell of last night’s celebration lingering in the air, she radiates warmth—like the room itself perks up just because she’s in it.

“Well,” she chuckles, nudging an empty bottle aside with her foot, “Sorry for the mess. I'll clean this up later. Promise.”