Less Than You Are

DISCLAIMER:

This story is NOT canon to the lore of Cookie Run: Kingdom, nor do the characters involved are accurately represented as they are in the game. They are otherwise different, more dumbed-down impersonations. CRK lore enthusiasts do not slam me in the comments section. Never buy something with from a name that is an instant red flag.

It started, as most catastrophes do, with a harmless idea.

Shadow Milk Cookie, in an uncharacteristic display of sentimentality (or boredom, no one could tell), suggested they celebrate Eternal Sugar Cookie’s "existence." Despite her long-standing status as missing, her cardboard cutout had, against all odds, remained a steadfast member of their team. Thus, a cake was deemed appropriate.

"We should order the biggest, most extravagant cake possible," Mystic Flour Cookie declared, dramatically throwing a pinch of glitter into the air. It immediately turned into bats.

"Fire," Burning Spice Cookie added sagely.

"No fire," Silent Salt Cookie signed, their lack of enthusiasm palpable.

"Fine," Burning Spice Cookie pouted. "But if something goes wrong, I am setting it on fire."

With all the grace of a government-mandated friendship event, they collectively marched toward the nearest bakery. The establishment in question was called "Deceptively Delicious." The name should have been a red flag, but no one in this team was particularly wise.

Upon entering, they were immediately greeted by an unsettlingly cheerful cashier, whose smile was suspiciously wide. The menu board behind them seemed to shimmer oddly, as if the letters were shifting when no one was looking.

"Welcome to Deceptively Delicious! Where nothing is what it seems, and everything is what it isn't! How may I help you?" the cashier chirped.

"We need a cake," Mystic Flour Cookie declared. "A massive one. Extravagant. Fit for a—" she hesitated, then cleared her throat. "A very important cardboard cutout."

"Ah, an existential order! Excellent choice," the cashier nodded. "Would you like it to be real, or would you like the illusion of cake?"

"...Real?" Shadow Milk Cookie said slowly, narrowing his eyes.

"A bold decision! Very well, your cake will be prepared and delivered promptly. That will be $50"

"Fifty?!" Mystic Flour Cookie gasped. "What a steal!"

"Oh no, robbery is extra. That would be another $20," the cashier corrected.

Silent Salt Cookie wordlessly dropped the cash onto the counter. The cashier gave them a knowing wink. "Oh, this will be fun."

The cake arrived in a box larger than Shadow Milk Cookie’s ego. It was pristine, grand, and undeniably real. Or was it?

"It's beautiful," Mystic Flour Cookie gasped, nearly fainting from sheer excitement. "A marvel of confectionery!"

"A necessary tribute," Shadow Milk Cookie said, crossing his arms dramatically. "Even if life is but a void, this cake stands as proof that deceit can be sweet."

Silent Salt Cookie poked it. Hard. It wobbled but didn’t collapse. That should have been another red flag.

"Something is off," they signed, their expression unreadable.

Burning Spice Cookie, naturally, set a corner of it on fire just to check. It burned like paper.

"This isn't a cake!" Mystic Flour Cookie shrieked, scandalized.

"It's a—" Shadow Milk Cookie paused. "A lie?"

"No, it's a cake!" Mystic Flour Cookie argued, desperately breaking off a piece and shoving it into her mouth. "Tastes like... existential dread and artificial vanilla."

"So... a lie?" Shadow Milk Cookie reiterated, glaring at the cake as if it had personally betrayed him.

"We’ve been deceived," Silent Salt Cookie signed gravely. "Unless—"

"UNLESS THE CAKE NEVER EXISTED IN THE FIRST PLACE!" Mystic Flour Cookie howled.

The room went silent. Then chaos erupted.

Burning Spice Cookie set the rest of it ablaze. Mystic Flour Cookie screamed. Shadow Milk Cookie brooded harder than he ever had before. Silent Salt Cookie stood completely still, unblinking.

When the fire finally died down, only a single note remained, charred at the edges:

"The cake was a cake that was a lie that was a cake that wasn’t a cake that was a lie that was a cake that wasn’t a lie. Refunds are unavailable. Thank you for choosing Deceptively Delicious."

No one spoke for a while.

"...So what do we do now?" Shadow Milk Cookie finally asked.

Silent Salt Cookie held up a match. "Bake. Our. Own."

Burning Spice Cookie grinned wildly. "Fire?"

Mystic Flour Cookie cracked her knuckles. "Magic."

Shadow Milk Cookie dramatically turned away. "Deceit."

And thus, in a fitting conclusion to their self-inflicted misfortune, the crew embarked on the most cursed baking journey known to cookie-kind.

(They burned down the kitchen within the hour.)

But then, as the smoke cleared, something emerged from the ashes.

"Wait... is that?" Mystic Flour Cookie gasped, pointing at a perfectly intact cake sitting on the charred remains of the table.

"Impossible! The cake was destroyed!" Shadow Milk Cookie narrowed his eyes. "Yet here it is... unscathed."

Silent Salt Cookie carefully touched the cake. It was soft. It smelled like vanilla. It was, by all accounts, real.

"It was never a lie," Mystic Flour Cookie whispered in awe.

"Unless..." Shadow Milk Cookie hesitated. "This is the true deception."

"Only one way to find out." Burning Spice Cookie grabbed a fork and stabbed the cake. The fork passed through with ease. He took a bite. He chewed. He swallowed. "It's real."

"Wait." Silent Salt Cookie signed, frowning. "What if the real cake was the lie, and the fake cake was the truth?"

"That makes no sense," Mystic Flour Cookie said. "And yet, somehow, it makes too much sense."

Shadow Milk Cookie picked up the note again. It now read: "The cake that was a lie that wasn't a cake that was a cake that was a lie has become a cake that is and isn't. Have a nice day."

They all stared at the cake. It stared back. Or maybe it didn't. They couldn't be sure anymore.

Burning Spice Cookie set it on fire again.

When the flames died down, the cake was still there.

"...So the cake wasn’t a lie?" Mystic Flour Cookie asked weakly.

"Or was it?" Shadow Milk Cookie countered.

"Or wasn’t it?" Silent Salt Cookie added.

"Fire." Burning Spice Cookie grinned.

And thus, the cycle continued, long into the night, as they debated, burned, re-discovered, burned again, doubted, re-confirmed, and re-burned the cake that was a lie that wasn't a cake that was a lie that was a cake that wasn't a lie...

DISCLAIMER:

This story is NOT canon to the lore of Cookie Run: Kingdom, nor do the characters involved are accurately represented as they are in the game. They are otherwise different, more dumbed-down impersonations. CRK lore enthusiasts do not slam me in the comments section. If you're talented enough to provide me illustrations on this story and other episodes of this series, please do it, I'll appreciate it. Credit guaranteed.

The Beast Cookies sat around their usual hideout, boredom thick in the air. They had pulled off every scheme they could think of—arson, deception, chaos—it was all starting to feel too easy.

That’s when Mystic Flour Cookie leaned forward with a smirk. “I bet none of you could survive a normal life.”

Burning Spice Cookie scoffed. “Please. I could be normal in my sleep.”

Shadow Milk Cookie narrowed his eyes. “Deceit.”

Mystic Flour waggled her eyebrows. “Alright, then. I dare you. One month. We all get the most normal jobs possible, live regular lives, and see who makes the most money. Winner gets all the monthly salary bonuses.”

Silent Salt Cookie nodded in silent agreement, already planning their next move.

And just like that, the most absurd challenge in their history began.

Burning Spice Cookie: The IT Guy

Burning Spice Cookie adjusted his tie (which was already singed at the edges) and stared at the computer screen. “Have you tried turning it off and setting it on fire?”

The office worker blinked. “...Turning it off and on again?”

“Sure, that too.”

By day one, he had already spilled coffee on the main server. By day two, he accidentally caused a blackout trying to ‘fix’ a faulty cable with a blowtorch. By day three, he was escorted out of the building after attempting to ‘optimize’ the Wi-Fi by setting the router on fire and claiming, “It needed a fresh start.”

He was, of course, immediately fired for causing ‘unprecedented system combustion.’ But, technically, he had attempted to be normal, so he still received a partial payout.

Mystic Flour Cookie: Yoga Instructor

“Now, everyone, just take a deep breath and be one with the universe.”

The class sighed in relaxation.

“And with just a pinch of magic…” Mystic Flour muttered, flicking her fingers.

Suddenly, half the participants were levitating, a few had been turned into pigeons, and one unlucky soul was vibrating between dimensions.

“...Oops.”

By day two, her classes had a long waiting list. By day five, her students had started experiencing visions. By day seven, the city council issued a formal warning after someone ascended into the sky during a downward dog pose and never returned.

Her ‘instant enlightenment’ method got her fired, but the kingdom still considered her attempt valid. Another paycheck in the bag.

Shadow Milk Cookie: Barista

Shadow Milk Cookie loomed behind the counter, his expression unreadable as he poured coffee with an air of brooding intensity.

Customer: “Uh… can I get a caramel macchiato?”

Shadow Milk: “Life is bitter. So is your coffee.” Hands them a plain black coffee.

Customer: “...That’s not what I ordered.”

Shadow Milk: “Deceit.”

By day two, he had already renamed every drink on the menu. ‘Eternal Suffering’ was just an espresso. ‘Abyssal Torment’ was a cold brew. ‘Void’s Embrace’ was a matcha latte.

By day four, regulars stopped coming, replaced by philosophy majors and people going through breakups.

By day six, the manager finally snapped after Shadow Milk handed a child a ‘Cup of Unrelenting Despair’—a hot chocolate, but with a single drop of espresso for ‘corruption.’

Thrown out onto the street, he stood under a flickering streetlamp as a choir of angels inexplicably appeared, once again singing the theme song "Ecce homo qui est micam"...

Another failed job. Another check cashed.

Silent Salt Cookie: Cashier

Silent Salt Cookie scanned items at the local grocery store, completely expressionless.

Customer: “Uh… how much is this?”

Salt simply stared.

Customer: “...Okay, I’ll just check the tag myself.”

By day three, the store received complaints that Salt’s presence alone made people uneasy.

By day five, no one wanted to be in their checkout lane, except one customer who claimed to have had a life-changing existential revelation after making eye contact with them.

By day seven, the store hired a security guard specifically to observe them.

The kingdom couldn’t fault them for simply being ‘too unsettling to work with.’ It counted as trying. Money secured.

Final Evaluation

After a month of ‘honest work,’ the crew sat around a pile of gold coins, basking in their legally earned, totally undeserved riches.

“This is the most money we’ve ever made,” Mystic Flour admitted.

“By doing absolutely nothing,” Shadow Milk added, sipping his paycheck-funded expired milk.

Silent Salt nodded approvingly.

“Alright,” Burning Spice declared, kicking back. “What’s next?”

Mystic Flour grinned. “I hear there’s a kingdom program that pays reformed villains to give motivational speeches…”

The room fell silent. Then they all grinned.

One scam ends. Another begins.

DISCLAIMER:

This story is NOT canon to the lore of Cookie Run: Kingdom, nor do the characters involved are accurately represented as they are in the game. They are otherwise different, more dumbed-down impersonations. CRK lore enthusiasts do not slam me in the comments section. Never drink expired milk, regardless if you're tolerant with lactose or not.

The Beast Cookies headquarters—an abandoned strip mall with bad WiFi—was in full disarray. Mystic Flour had turned the break room into a vortex of swirling batter (again), Burning Spice was setting fire to unpaid invoices, and Silent Salt was... doing whatever Silent Salt did, which no one really knew but always ended in disaster. But none of that mattered right now.

Shadow Milk Cookie was dying.

Or at least, that's what it felt like.

"Deceit!" he groaned, clutching his stomach and rolling onto the floor dramatically. "Lies and treachery! I have been betrayed by my own body!"

Burning Spice leaned against the table, unimpressed. "You chugged an entire carton of expired milk. Again."

"It was aged to perfection!" Shadow Milk wheezed. "A true warrior does not fear the passage of time!"

Mystic Flour poked him with a wooden spoon. "Uh-huh. So what’s going on? You’ve done this, like, a hundred times and never whined this much."

Shadow Milk glared at her, dark circles under his eyes deepening as he hissed, "My strength wanes. My vision blurs. My stomach—" He gagged. "—rebels against me."

Silent Salt scribbled something on a notepad and held it up. Have you considered that you're lactose intolerant?

There was silence. A tense, unsettling silence.

Shadow Milk sat up, eyes wide with horror. "You lie."

Silent Salt flipped to a new page. You drink milk. You suffer. This is not deception, only pain.

Shadow Milk turned as pale as a sugar-glazed ghost. The revelation hit him like a stale baguette to the face. All these years, all these gallons of expired milk, all this suffering—and it wasn’t because he was “transcending mortality” or “ascending past the constraints of mere ingredients.” It was because his body simply refused to digest it.

Mystic Flour shrugged. "Wow, that explains why you spent last Tuesday curled up in the villainy conference room whispering ‘betrayal’ to the floor."

Burning Spice smirked. "And why the bathroom has been mysteriously ‘Out of Order’ every other day."

Shadow Milk clutched his chest. "No… no! I refuse! This must be falsehood!"

Silent Salt scribbled again. Denial is the first stage of grief.

Shadow Milk scrambled to his feet. "Then I shall defy fate itself! I shall conquer the very essence of my weakness! I shall—"

His stomach made a noise that could only be described as "an eldritch horror rising from the depths."

Mystic Flour sighed. "Yeah, okay, you’re going to explode. I'm out."

Burning Spice raised an eyebrow. "So... do we take him to the infirmary, or just let natural selection do its thing?"

Shadow Milk stumbled dramatically toward the door, panting. "I shall—return—to my chambers—to meditate upon this treachery—"

He didn't make it.

With a final, pitiful groan, he collapsed onto the floor, defeated not by an epic battle, nor by the forces of good, but by his own digestive system.

Silent Salt flipped their notebook around one last time. Tragic.

Shadow Milk eventually awoke in the infirmary—or, more accurately, the janitor’s closet with a paper towel draped over him. His stomach still felt like it was waging war against him, and the distant, mocking echoes of his teammates rang in his ears.

“Do you think he learned his lesson?” Mystic Flour mused, leaning against a shelf of ominously unlabeled potions.

“Not a chance,” Burning Spice said, waving a match around. "I give him three days before he does it again."

Shadow Milk groaned and sat up. “Never… shall I bow to this fate…”

Silent Salt handed him another notebook page. There is lactose-free milk, you know.

Shadow Milk read the words, eyes darkening. Then, with the most haunted, pained expression, he whispered, "Blasphemy."

Unrelated but I started reading jambound and I’m on chapter two it’s SO good I’m so excited to read the rest :Di see that lady shadow milk makes an appearance so?? Really excited for that