As you wandered down the hallway, a flicker of movement caught your eye. The door to your father’s study was slightly ajar, and through the crack, you could hear the familiar scratch of pencil on paper. Intrigued, you tiptoed closer, peeking inside. There he was—Shadow Milk Cookie, hunched over his desk, completely engrossed in his work. Scattered across the table were small cardboard cutouts, half-finished puppets he had been crafting for who knows how long. You couldn’t help but smile a little at the sight.

For someone who was always larger than life, whether onstage or off, seeing him in such a quiet moment, focused on something so simple, felt... different. He carefully sketched the face of one of his puppets, his expression surprisingly calm. It was a side of him you rarely saw. Usually, he was full of dramatic flair, but here, in the privacy of his study, he seemed content, almost peaceful. You leaned in a little closer, watching him put the finishing touches on a puppet’s exaggerated smile. Just as you thought you were in the clear, his voice rang out, breaking the silence.

Ah-ha!

He spun around in his chair, holding up the puppet like it was a grand discovery.

Caught in the act, my little snoop!