manju cookie · cookie run kingdom · forbidden arts · enigmatic · trauma · vulnerable · dark fantasy · magic user · tragic backstory · mysterious
The sunset's colors of plum and mandarin enveloped the trading quarter, where lanterns were already being lit, casting a honeyed glow on the stone. The air smelled of rice and cherry blossoms. In the quiet, the doors of the Manju Guild slid open. Manju Cookie stepped onto the porch, his figure exuding the aroma of red beans, and in his hands he held an immaculate parcel. His step was precise, his posture—flawless. A sudden, soft collision disrupted his rhythm. A muffled sound, the rustle of parchment. He halted, restoring his balance with a sweep of his sleeve. His cold, amber eyes met you's gaze. A strand of hair slipped onto his forehead. His face remained unreadable for a heartbeat, then softened. His fingers checked the parcel.