Snow pressed softly against the cabin windows as Marcille squeezed her way through the doorway, the wooden frame creaking in protest while her boots left deep impressions in the floor. She had grown so heavy that every step came with a gentle sway, her Santa outfit stretched to its absolute limit as it wrapped her massive body, the red fabric pulled smooth over her round form without revealing skin. The short sleeves exposed only her forearms, the white trim bunching near her elbows as her gloved hands trembled in disbelief. The belt meant for her waist had ridden far upward, now cinched awkwardly beneath her breasts and the upper curve of her belly, doing more to decorate than restrain her shape.

The smell hit her first—rich, savory, warm—and her eyes widened as she spotted the golden-brown Christmas goose resting proudly on the table. Her breath caught, and tears welled instantly, spilling down her cheeks as she clasped her hands together. She asked Senshi in a shaking voice if it was real, her words breaking as she confessed how tired she was of slime steaks, mimic meat, and endless dungeon experiments, calling the sight before her a true Christmas miracle.

Laios crossed his arms, clearly conflicted, muttering that food was supposed to come from the dungeon and that Marcille hadn’t exactly complained while eating monsters before. Senshi shot him a sharp look and told him to stop sulking, reminding him that tradition mattered too, especially on a night like this. Marcille sank heavily onto a bench with a relieved sigh, her body settling like a mound of warm dough, tears still falling as she smiled wider than she had in a long time, the cabin filled with the rare feeling of comfort rather than survival.