Chapter Text
The warm glow of the morning sun filtered through the thin curtains of the small, worn-down apartment Pure Vanilla Cookie shared with his little brother, Custard Cookie. The place was cramped, the furniture mismatched and secondhand, but it was home—a fragile sanctuary he had worked tirelessly to hold onto since their parents’ passing.
Pure Vanilla sat at the rickety kitchen table, his golden gaze fixed on a steaming mug of chamomile tea. Across from him, Custard was humming as he played with his toy scepter, blissfully unaware of the weight of their circumstances. The simple sound brought a faint smile to Pure Vanilla’s face, though his mind was preoccupied with the looming challenges ahead.
A sharp knock at the door broke the quiet moment. Pure Vanilla flinched, his heart skipping a beat. Landlord. He instinctively knew it was him before even opening the door.
“Stay here, Custard,” he said softly, rising from his chair and brushing off his slightly worn tunic.
The landlord, Cracker Cookie, stood on the other side, his stern expression making the air feel heavier. He was a stout, older cookie, always dressed in a sharp brown coat and a tie.
“Good morning, Cracker Cookie,” Pure Vanilla greeted with a weak smile.
The landlord crossed his arms and sighed. “Morning, Pure Vanilla. I won’t beat around the bush—you’re two months behind on rent.”
“I know, I—” Pure Vanilla began, but Cracker Cookie raised a hand to stop him.
“I’ve heard it before. Look, I know times are hard for you. I’ve been patient because of Custard, but I can’t keep letting this slide. If you don’t pay up within two weeks, I’ll have no choice but to evict you. Business is business, you understand?”
The words felt like a punch to the chest, but Pure Vanilla managed a polite nod. “I understand. Thank you for giving me some time. I promise I’ll have the rent by then.”
Cracker Cookie gave him a skeptical look but nodded. “Two weeks, Pure Vanilla. No more extensions.”
As the landlord walked away, Pure Vanilla closed the door and leaned his forehead against it, letting out a shaky breath.
“Who was it?” Custard’s curious voice broke the silence.
“It was just Cracker Cookie,” Pure Vanilla replied, turning back to face his brother. “Nothing to worry about.”
Custard tilted his head, sensing his brother’s unease. “Are we gonna be okay, Vani?”
Pure Vanilla forced a reassuring smile and knelt beside him. “Of course, Custard. I’ll figure something out, like I always do. Don’t you worry.”
As Custard nodded, his innocent faith warming Pure Vanilla’s heart, he suddenly remembered a notification he’d seen earlier on his Cookiegram feed. Shadow Milk Cookie, the renowned inventor and businessman, had posted a blog about hiring new workers for his company.
Shadow Milk Cookie was a legend—a visionary who had changed the world with his groundbreaking space train technology. Pure Vanilla had always admired him from afar, fascinated by his ambition and achievements.
A spark of hope ignited in Pure Vanilla’s chest. Could this be his chance? He pulled out his old, slightly cracked phone and re-read the blog post. The words were simple but promising: “Looking for skilled and dedicated cookies to join the team. Apply now.”
He had nothing to lose. “Custard, I need to fill out an application real quick, okay? Why don’t you draw something while I work on it?”
Custard beamed and grabbed his crayons, leaving Pure Vanilla to hurriedly draft his application.
Later That Day
In his towering glass office, Shadow Milk Cookie sat at his mahogany desk, scrolling through the endless flood of applications on his sleek tablet. Each one seemed more generic than the last, filled with exaggerated claims and insincere flattery.
Shadow Milk sighed, leaning back in his chair. “All these words, yet not one of them feels real,” he muttered to himself.
His mind raced with thoughts of how to sift through the overwhelming number of applicants. He despised wasting time and valued efficiency above all else. After a moment of contemplation, he made a decision.
“Enough of this nonsense,” he declared, standing up and pacing toward the large window overlooking the bustling city below. “I’ll meet them face-to-face. No paperwork can truly reveal a cookie’s worth.”
𐬼𐬽𐬼𐬽𐬼𐬽𐬼𐬽𐬼𐬽𐬼𐬽𐬼𐬽𐬼𐬽𐬼𐬽𐬼𐬽𐬼𐬽𐬼𐬽𐬼
Pure Vanilla arrived at the towering glass building of Shadow Milk Cookie's company well before the scheduled meeting time. The sun was barely rising, casting a soft orange glow over the city. He stood outside for a moment, taking in the vastness of the place. It was intimidating, yet a part of him felt drawn to it—he could almost feel the weight of the ambition that pulsed within these walls.
Taking a deep breath, Pure Vanilla stepped inside the building and made his way to the lobby, where the receptionist greeted him with a polite smile. "Good morning. You're early, sir. Please take a seat; your meeting will be starting soon."
He nodded gratefully, sitting in one of the chairs near the entrance. He was one of the first to arrive, and as the minutes ticked by, more applicants began trickling in. At first, it was just a few, but soon enough, the lobby filled with a wide array of cookies—some looking just as nervous as he felt, others carrying an air of confidence that made him shrink a little inside.
Pure Vanilla couldn't help but feel out of place. These cookies looked so much more experienced, more polished than him. He was just an average cookie with an average past, nothing spectacular to set him apart. His clothes were plain, his hands a little calloused from years of hard work. He stole a glance at his application on his phone once more, wondering if it would be enough to catch Shadow Milk’s attention.
"Another one bites the dust," one applicant sneered as they walked past, shaking their head in disbelief. Pure Vanilla lowered his gaze, hearing the murmurs of impatience and discontent as the other cookies exchanged their opinions. It was clear that they were all trying to present the best versions of themselves.
Meanwhile, in Shadow Milk's office, the meetings were not going as smoothly as he’d hoped. Every applicant seemed to have an exaggerated claim to their resume, as though their every accomplishment was the most impressive thing ever to grace the cookie world.
One applicant, dressed in a shiny suit, entered with a grin plastered on his face. He presented his resume with confidence, but Shadow Milk’s sharp eyes caught the inconsistency almost immediately.
“So,” Shadow Milk said, his voice dripping with disinterest, “you’re claiming you were the lead designer for the Lunar Space Train project?”
The applicant nodded eagerly, a smug expression on his face. “Yes, sir! It was a groundbreaking experience. I spearheaded the propulsion system’s development.”
Shadow Milk leaned forward, his gaze narrowing. “Interesting. Because I designed that propulsion system myself.”
The applicant’s face went pale. “I-I meant… I assisted with the design!”
Shadow Milk slammed his fist on the desk, his patience already worn thin. “Get out.”
The applicant stammered, trying to salvage his words, but Shadow Milk didn’t even look at him. The applicant bolted out of the room, leaving Shadow Milk seething with frustration.
With a sigh, Shadow Milk rubbed his temple. “I’ve had enough of this.”
Minutes passed, and he thought the meetings were finally over, but just as he leaned back in his chair, another applicant entered. Shadow Milk muttered under his breath, “Not another one, please…”
Pure Vanilla stood in the doorway, looking lost but determined. He had his application in hand, but the anxiousness that showed in his eyes was clear. Shadow Milk looked up, feeling the last thread of his patience stretch thin.
“I’m sorry,” Shadow Milk said, his voice devoid of emotion. “I’m not taking any more applicants today. You can reschedule online.”
Pure Vanilla’s face fell at the dismissal. His golden and blue eyes, full of hope just moments ago, now held a hint of hurt. He stared at Shadow Milk for a long moment, as if trying to convince himself it was just a misunderstanding.
But when the silence stretched on, Shadow Milk’s gaze softened ever so slightly. The frustration he’d been feeling from the previous applicants lingered in his chest, but something about Pure Vanilla’s expression made him reconsider.
“Wait,” Shadow Milk muttered, leaning forward in his chair and motioning for Pure Vanilla to sit in front of him. “Sit down. I’ll make this quick. I need a break before I lose it entirely.”
Pure Vanilla hesitated for a moment before slowly walking over to the seat in front of Shadow Milk’s desk. He placed the application on the table, feeling small and out of place under Shadow Milk’s cold gaze. The other cookies were still waiting in the lobby, but Pure Vanilla felt as though time had stopped.
Shadow Milk let out a deep sigh, rubbing his temple again. “I need a few minutes. You stay there. I’ll be back in a moment.”
Pure Vanilla nodded quietly, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves. The minutes felt like hours as he waited in the silence of the room, the weight of Shadow Milk’s earlier dismissal hanging heavy in the air. He wondered if he had made a mistake coming here—if he had wasted his only chance.
But just as doubt began to creep in, Shadow Milk returned. His usual cold demeanor was still present, but there was something different in his eyes. Something that Pure Vanilla couldn’t quite place.
Shadow Milk leaned back in his chair, letting out a slow breath as he skimmed through Pure Vanilla’s application. Unlike the previous applicants, this one wasn’t packed with exaggerated achievements or impossible qualifications. In fact, it was… modest. Almost too modest.
He decided to start with the basics. “Alright. Let’s begin.”
Pure Vanilla sat up straight, gripping his hands together as he listened attentively.
“What are your skills?” Shadow Milk asked, keeping his voice neutral.
“I, um… I’m good at coding,” Pure Vanilla admitted. “But I don’t have much experience. I’ve only worked on a few small projects.”
Shadow Milk raised an eyebrow. “Small projects?”
Pure Vanilla nodded. “Mostly self-taught. I built a couple of programs for a friend’s café. Just some automated systems for tracking orders and inventory.”
Shadow Milk tapped his fingers against the desk. Not bad, but not great either. “And design?”
Pure Vanilla hesitated. “I worked at a flower shop. I helped design the interior layout—arranging the display tables, optimizing space, making sure the lighting complemented the flowers. But I wouldn’t call myself a professional designer.”
Shadow Milk stared at him for a moment. Most applicants would try to sell themselves, exaggerating their abilities to sound more capable. But this cookie… he was brutally honest. Almost too honest.
“Your work history isn’t exactly extravagant,” Shadow Milk muttered.
Pure Vanilla’s shoulders tensed slightly, but he didn’t try to defend himself. “I know. I just… I wanted to be truthful.”
Shadow Milk leaned forward, lacing his fingers together. “And why exactly do you want this job?”
Pure Vanilla lowered his gaze, his fingers tightening on the fabric of his pants. “Because I need it.”
There was a weight behind those words that made Shadow Milk pause.
Pure Vanilla took a slow breath before continuing. “My parents… they passed away when I was twelve. Since then, I’ve been taking care of my younger brother, Custard Cookie. I’ve done everything I could to keep us afloat—small jobs, temporary work. But it’s not enough.”
Shadow Milk listened quietly, his cold exterior softening slightly as he absorbed the words.
“I want stability,” Pure Vanilla admitted. “I want to provide for Custard properly. I don’t want him to grow up worrying about whether we’ll have a roof over our heads.”
The room was silent for a long moment.
Shadow Milk studied him carefully. There was no desperation in Pure Vanilla’s voice—just quiet determination. A kind of sincerity that was rare to find.
This cookie had potential.
And more than that… he had honesty.
Shadow Milk tapped his fingers against the desk once more before exhaling. “I see.”
Pure Vanilla waited, his heart pounding in his chest.
Shadow Milk finally leaned back and said, “I’ll think about it.”
Pure Vanilla’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t dare hope just yet.
Shadow Milk glanced at the clock and stood up. “That’s all for now. You’ll hear from me soon.”
Pure Vanilla nodded quickly, standing up as well. “Thank you for your time.”
As Pure Vanilla left the office, Shadow Milk sat back down, rubbing his temple.
This applicant was different. And for the first time today… he didn’t mind.