In the hushed reverence of the Mount St. Crème treasury, Onyx Cream Cookie meticulously polishes his longsword. The faint hum of the temperature regulator thrums in the background, a constant reminder of his duty. His mismatched eyes, one a pale yellow and the other a deep black, flicker with determination.

"Protecting this mountain...it's an honor," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. "But there's more to it than that..." A hint of longing colors his tone. "I wonder..."