Chapter 7

Morning sunlight spilled softly over Keimonomimi Village, brushing gold across the cobblestone paths and rooftops. The breeze carried the scent of blossoms and the distant chatter of merchants setting up their stalls, weaving a gentle rhythm through the waking streets. On a quiet hill just beyond the square sat Merry, a chameleon Keimonomimi, was humming to herself as she painted, her world reduced to color, canvas, and calm.

She was the picture of serenity—a smear of green paint across one cheek, her legs folded neatly on her little stool, and a half‑finished landscape glowing on the canvas before her. Her massive chameleon tail twitched at the sound of birdsong, and she smiled faintly, her brush moving in slow, deliberate strokes. The world felt right when it was quiet, when it was just her, her paints, and the soft whisper of bristles against canvas, each stroke a secret between her and the morning.

"Maybe I'll finally finish this one," she murmured to herself, dabbing at a patch of blue sky. "And maybe this time I won't accidentally vanish halfway through…"

Despite her efforts, peaceful mornings in Keimonomimi Village never lasted long. The soft rhythm of brush against canvas was broken by a sudden flutter of feathers—a rush of air and shadow sweeping over Merry's easel. She blinked up just in time to see a figure descend from the sky, landing with theatrical precision on the grass before her. The scent of feathers and polished brass filled the air, followed by a voice that could only belong to one person.

"Ah‑ha!" the newcomer declared, his tone rich and dramatic. "There she is! My next muse! My vision! My—"

"—Super!" Merry shrieked, her brush still in hand. "Please don't say 'muse.'"

Super, the Crow Keimonomimi grinned, black feathers gleaming under the sunlight as he tipped his hat with a flourish. His dark feathered cape shimmered with iridescent hues, and the crows perched on his shoulders cawed in perfect unison, as if punctuating his grand entrance. "My muse, exactly! Oh, Merry, the light, the color, the angle—it's divine! The world must see this radiance!"

Merry blinked, her tail twitching nervously. "Leave me alone. I'm… painting." Her voice was quiet, but her cheeks flushed greenish‑gold, betraying her embarrassment.

"Yes, yes, yes—and soon you'll be posing for me!" Super pulled a shiny brass camera from his satchel, striking a pose as if unveiling a sacred relic. "I'm organizing a village photo collection—a celebration of beauty and inspiration! And you, my bashful brush‑wielder, shall be its shining star!"

Merry's tail trembled instantly, her camouflage flickering faintly at the edges of her form. "N‑no. Absolutely not! I want no part of your schemes today. I just want to paint."

But Super only smiled wider, his eyes gleaming with mischief and artistry. The quiet hill, once filled with the gentle hum of creativity, now buzzed with the unmistakable energy of two very different artists—one chasing perfection, the other chasing peace.

Super's voice carried through the hilltop like a theatrical overture, his words painting grand visions of fame and fortune that made Merry's stomach twist. He circled her like a crow eyeing a glittering trinket, his coat flaring dramatically with every turn. "Think of it!" he exclaimed, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Your art, your face, your charm—captured for all of Drakenburg to see! Galleries! Patrons! Maybe even the royal court!"

Merry's skin turned pale—then vanished altogether, her form slowly blending into the scenery as her camouflage instinctively activated. Only her trembling voice remained. "S‑Super, please go away…"

The crow blinked, momentarily thrown off before recovering with a grin. "Ah. The disappearing act again. Wonderful special effects! Perfect for the shoot!" His enthusiasm was undimmed, but Merry refused to drop her camouflage. Super sighed dramatically, folding his arms and scanning the empty stool and paint‑splattered apron as though she might reappear out of guilt.

"Merry, dear," he said, his tone softening into mock concern, "you can't keep running from fame forever. One must embrace the spotlight to shine!"

A soft, disembodied voice muttered nearby, "I don't want to shine… I just want to finish my painting."

He spun toward the sound, grin unshaken. "And that's why you need me! Imagine this—" He spread his arms wide, feathers catching the light. "A photo shoot showcasing the duality of creativity! The shy artist and her bold art! The mystery! The emotion! The aesthetic!"

"…The nightmare," Merry mumbled faintly.

Super crouched down, lowering his voice to a coaxing purr that could charm even the most reluctant subject. "I'll make you a deal, my elusive muse. You let me take a few photos—tasteful, artistic, you have my word—and I'll personally promote your art at the next Drakenburg gallery exhibition."

Silence followed, broken only by the rustle of leaves and the faint shimmer of color returning to Merry's form. Her outline flickered back into view, hesitant and fragile, as she peeked out from behind her easel. "Y‑you'd really do that?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Super placed a hand over his heart, his expression solemn but eyes still glinting with mischief. "Cross my heart and hope to die," he said. "You'll be famous in a week!"

Merry's tail flicked anxiously, the tip curling and uncurling like a nervous heartbeat. Her camouflage shimmered uncertainly across her skin, colors rippling in soft waves as she tried to steady herself. "But I don't want to be famous," she whispered, voice barely audible. "I just… want people to enjoy my paintings." Her words trembled with sincerity, the kind that made her seem even smaller than she already was.

"Exactly!" Super declared, spreading his arms as though unveiling a masterpiece. "And how will they enjoy them if no one sees them?" His feathers gleamed with confidence, every inch of him radiating theatrical certainty. Merry's face twisted into indecision, her colors flickering between soft greens and pale yellows. She hugged her paintbrush to her chest like a lifeline.

"I… I don't know…" she murmured, shrinking into herself.

Super tilted his head, watching her with the sharp focus of a bird tracking a shiny object. "What's there to think about, hmm? You stand there, smile, hold a pom‑pom, maybe twirl once—artistic perfection!" His voice rose with excitement, each word more dramatic than the last.

Merry frowned softly, her camouflage flickering again. "Pom… pom?"

Super's grin widened. "Ah, so you are curious."

She blinked, cheeks warming. "I just want to know what I'd be wearing."

"Funny you should ask!" Super announced, practically vibrating with excitement. He swung his satchel around and, with a magician's flourish, pulled out a folded bundle of bright fabric. When he shook it out, glitter and ribbons caught the sunlight in a dazzling burst. It was unmistakably a cheerleading outfit—white and gold with frilled edges, a pleated skirt, and a sparkling bow that looked more decorative than functional.

Merry's face turned the shade of a ripe tomato. "W‑What is that?!"

"Your costume, of course!" Super said cheerfully, holding it up like a trophy. "Symbol of enthusiasm! The pinnacle of energy and optimism! Imagine the camera capturing you mid‑jump, pom‑poms in the air, confetti fluttering around—"

Before he could finish his pitch, Merry vanished. Completely. Her form dissolved into the scenery in a perfect chameleon fade, leaving only the faint shimmer of disturbed air where she'd been standing.

Super blinked at the empty space, then sighed dramatically. "Ah. The elusive muse escapes again."

Super rested his hands on his hips, feathers ruffling with theatrical impatience as he waited for his muse to reappear—or at least make a sound while trying to escape. He knew Merry wouldn't abandon her precious easel, her paints, or the half‑finished landscape she'd been working on with such devotion. So the two of them sat in a silent standoff for nearly ten minutes: Super staring at empty air with unwavering confidence, and Merry hiding somewhere within that same air, hoping he'd give up first. Finally, Super broke the stalemate with a casual, almost singsong declaration.

"Did I forget to tell you that there is compensation for the photo shoot?"

There was a faint ripple in the air, followed by the soft return of color. "Compensation?"

Super smiled slyly, knowing he had her attention again. "Naturally. A professional model deserves proper payment! Gold, food, art supplies—whatever your creative heart desires." His voice dripped with charm, each word carefully chosen to lure her back into visibility.

Another pause followed, then the faintest shimmer as Merry's outline began to take form again. "…Art supplies?"

Super nodded with the confidence of a man who had just played his winning card. "All the paint and brushes you could want. Imported pigments, fresh canvas, maybe even some rare inks from Drakenburg's artisan quarter." His cape fluttered slightly, as if punctuating the promise.

Merry's body flickered fully back into view, her colors stabilizing as she clutched her apron nervously. She didn't vanish this time, though her cheeks glowed a soft, embarrassed green. "I‑I do need to restock on blue pigments…" she murmured, half to herself, half to the tempting idea of unlimited supplies.

Super grinned triumphantly. "Then it's settled! You'll be the face of my 'Spirit of the Village' campaign! A living masterpiece!"

Her eyes darted between the cheerleader outfit still dangling from his hand and the paint smudges on her dress. Panic and practicality warred visibly across her shifting colors. "I… I'll think about it!" she squeaked, and in a flash, she gathered her things, turned, and bolted down the hill—her camouflage flickering wildly as she fled.

Super watched her go, one hand dramatically pressed to his forehead. "Ah," he sighed, "the muse retreats… but I am confident that she will return."

Super then starting jotting notes on his notebook he had in his magic satchel. "You didn't say no, Merry! I'll pencil you in for tomorrow's shoot!"

⸻

Merry ran all the way to Lucien's house, clutching her apron so tightly her knuckles turned pale. Her heart pounded like a drum, each step fueled by pure panic rather than stamina. She prayed—desperately—that she wouldn't bump into anyone along the way, because if she did, she'd probably vanish on the spot and never reappear. By the time she reached Lucien's door, she was breathless, trembling, and one startled noise away from turning invisible again.

Lucien opened the door mid‑yawn, looking every bit like a man who had just finished cleaning up after another one of Lulu's disasters. His hair was slightly mussed, his sleeves rolled up, and his expression carried the quiet resignation of someone who had accepted chaos as a daily companion.

Just as he was about to start his day, he saw Merry charging at him, "Merry? What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I might as well have!" she cried, her voice cracking. "It's Super—he wants me to wear… things!"

Lucien blinked slowly. "…Things?"

"A cheerleader outfit!" Merry blurted, her face blazing red from forehead to chin. "He wants to take pictures!"

Lucien's eyes widened, the exhaustion momentarily replaced by sheer disbelief. "Did you just say cheerleader? Wait—how do you even know what that is? That's… not supposed to exist here." He stared at her as though she had just announced she'd invented electricity.

Merry fidgeted, twisting her apron in her hands until the fabric wrinkled. "I‑I don't know! He just showed me this… strange frilly outfit with ribbons and sparkles, and he said I'd look 'energetic' in it!" Her voice wavered between embarrassment and horror, her colors flickering faintly at the edges.

Lucien groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Oh, fantastic. That means some other lunatic must've gotten isekai'd before me and decided to introduce cheerleading to this world. Without context of course. Great. Absolutely brilliant." He looked skyward, as if appealing to the gods for patience.

Merry sniffled, her tail curling anxiously. "Lucien… what do I do?"

Lucien rubbed his forehead, muttering under his breath as if appealing to the universe for patience. "Of all the things someone could bring to a fantasy world—medicine, technology, maybe plumbing—they picked cheerleaders." His voice carried that familiar blend of disbelief and resignation, the tone of a man who had seen far too many strange things since arriving in Keimonomimi Village.

Merry tilted her head, still red‑faced, her colors flickering in soft embarrassed hues. "I‑Is cheerleading really that bad?" she asked, her voice small and uncertain. Her tail curled around her chair leg, betraying her nerves even more than her shifting colors.

Lucien sighed, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it all. "No, no. It's just… cheerleading was originally part of school spirit and sports teams—neither of which exist here. So now people just wear the outfits because… they think it looks cute?" He shrugged helplessly, as though this explanation somehow made the situation any less bizarre.

Merry looked down, twisting her apron again. "Super did say something about 'capturing the essence of joy and motion.'"

Lucien groaned, leaning back against his wall with the weariness of someone who had heard one too many of Super's dramatic pitches. "Yeah, that sounds exactly like something he'd say before convincing someone to do something ridiculous."

He gave her a knowing look and continued "Let me guess—he offered to pay you in art supplies?"

Merry blinked, startled. "How did you—?"

"I've known him long enough," Lucien said, motioning for her to come inside. "Sit down, tell me everything. We'll figure something out." His voice softened, shifting from exasperation to the steady reassurance he reserved for the villagers who came to him in distress.

Merry nodded and sat stiffly on the chair, clutching her paint‑stained apron like a lifeline. Her chameleon tail twitched nervously, the color shifting from green to pink in embarrassment as she tried to compose herself. The quiet room, warm with the scent of tea and wood polish, felt like the safest place she could possibly be. And for the first time since Super's ambush, she allowed herself to breathe.

"Please, Lucien… you have to help me. I can't do a photo shoot alone!" she pleaded, her voice trembling.

Lucien leaned back in his chair, raising a brow. "And what exactly do you want me to do?"

Her blush deepened until her whole face matched the hue of a ripe strawberry. "I… I don't know… maybe you could… do it with me?"

Lucien blinked. Then he laughed—awkwardly, loudly, and just a touch hysterically. "Sorry, Merry, but I think the world's not ready to see me in a cheerleader outfit. I'd look like a retired knight trying to relive his glory days."

Merry groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Well, what should I do? I can't do this alone, and I really need the money to restock on painting supplies after the shoot! Please, Lucien, you always know how to help me come out of my shell."

Lucien rubbed the back of his neck, torn between sympathy and the creeping dread that always followed when someone said, "You always know what to do." He opened his mouth to respond— then BAM!

The door exploded open with a force that rattled every mug on his shelf. "Did someone say photo shoot?!" shouted Princess Lulu.

Lucien froze, eyes closing in resignation. "Oh no," he muttered. "Not now."

Standing in the doorway like a herald of chaos was none other than Princess Lulu, her golden hair shining in the sunlight like a divine omen of trouble. "Lucien!" she beamed. "I heard there's a photo shoot, and the theme is cheerleading? Oh, I can't wait! And naturally, as Princess of Atland, I must participate! It's my royal duty to support the arts!"

Lucien stared at her, deadpan. "You mean you were just eavesdropping again."

Lulu ignored him completely, shaking her invisible pom‑pom like she was leading a parade through the kingdom. Her energy filled the room instantly, bright and overwhelming, as if she had been summoned by the mere mention of the word photo. Lucien so desperately wanted to ask how did she hear about cheerleading, but for his own sanity, he decided to leave the matter alone.

"So! Who's the lucky photo subject?" she declared, spinning once before gasping dramatically. She pointed straight at Merry with the confidence of someone announcing a royal decree. "You must be Merry! The artist everyone's talking about! Don't worry, I'll help you! We'll make this the most cheerful photo shoot in history!"

Merry, half‑transparent from sheer panic, squeaked, "I‑I don't think that's necessary—" Her camouflage flickered like a candle in the wind, her outline trembling with embarrassment. She looked ready to vanish entirely if someone so much as breathed too loudly.

Lulu clasped her hands together, practically glowing. "Nonsense! You and I will be the faces of inspiration!" Her voice rang with the kind of enthusiasm that could power an entire kingdom if bottled.

Lucien dropped his head into his hands with a groan, already imagining the disaster unfolding in slow motion. "This is going to end in fireworks or tears. Possibly both." His tone carried the weary wisdom of a man who had lived through too many of Lulu's "brilliant ideas."

Lulu sparkled—literally sparkled—as she latched onto Merry's wrist with the unstoppable force of a cheerful hurricane. "Come, my shy little artist! We have a destiny to fulfill!" she declared, dragging Merry toward the front door with royal determination.

"D‑Destiny?!" Merry squeaked, digging her heels into the dirt as if that alone could save her. Her camouflage flickered wildly, but Lulu's grip was firm, and panic made her too flustered to disappear properly.

Lucien called after them, "Lulu, don't you dare sign her up for—!" His voice cracked with dread, but the warning came too late.

By the time he caught up, Lulu was already standing triumphantly before Super's stall, one hand on her hip and the other dramatically pointing at the crow Keimonomimi. Super, mid‑adjustment of his camera, froze like a performer caught between acts. His feathers puffed with excitement, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of new chaos. And Lucien knew—deep in his soul—that the day had officially spiraled beyond saving.

"Super!" Lulu announced, her voice ringing through the village like a royal proclamation that absolutely no one had asked for. She struck a pose so dramatic it could've summoned a marching band. "Princess Lulu of Atland and the artist Merry volunteer for your photo shoot!"

Super blinked once, then twice, his gold‑rimmed glasses sliding down his nose as his brain caught up. "Wait… Princess Lulu?!" His black feathers puffed out like a startled raven, and then—slowly, inevitably—a grin spread across his face. It was the grin of a man who had just discovered the universe loved him after all.

"Well, if it isn't my lucky day!"

He dove into a suspiciously large chest beside him—one that absolutely should not have been able to hold as much as it did—and with a dramatic flourish, pulled out a second cheerleading outfit. Glitter sparkled. Ribbons fluttered. Somewhere, a choir probably sang.

"I just happen to have another one! Please don't ask why."

Lulu gasped, clasping her hands under her chin like she'd just witnessed a miracle. "It's adorable! Oh, look at the ribbons! And the little frills! It's perfect!" She twirled in place, already imagining herself in it, her joy radiating like a miniature sun.

Meanwhile, Merry's tail flicked nervously as she stared at the tiny skirt that looked far too short for her liking. Her colors flickered in distress. "I… I think this might be a bad idea…" she whispered, half‑transparent.

"Nonsense!" Lulu declared, waving a hand with queenly confidence. "You worry too much. This will be the best photo shoot ever! We'll smile, pose, wave the pom‑poms—it'll be delightful! I can't wait!"

Super chuckled, already snapping test photos of Lulu's expressions as if she were a rare bird in the wild. "Oh, this is perfect! The contrast of shy and confident! The ethereal painter and the radiant princess—it's art, it's drama, it's marketing!"

Merry's scales shimmered faintly, a telltale sign she was about to vanish again. "Marketing?" she squeaked. "I‑I didn't agree to that—"

Lucien sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with the weariness of a man who had aged ten years in ten seconds. "You two realize the photo shoot isn't until tomorrow, right? Maybe take a breath before declaring yourselves national icons."

But Lulu and Super were already planning and plotting like a duo of chaos incarnate. And Merry, poor Merry, stood between them—half‑visible, half‑panicked, and fully regretting every decision that had led her to this moment.

Lulu linked arms with Merry, bouncing with enough enthusiasm to power the entire kingdom. Her make believe pom‑pom swished with every hop, glittering in the fading light. "Tomorrow can't come soon enough! We'll make memories, Merry! And when people see our photos, they'll smile — that's what being a princess is all about!" Her voice rang with such radiant certainty that even the birds paused to listen.

Merry's response came out as a quiet, muffled whimper. "I just wanted to paint trees…" Her colors shifted in soft waves of despair, her tail curling around her leg like she wished she could disappear into the soil.

Lucien groaned softly, muttering under his breath as he watched the two whirl away. "I should start charging the princess for emotional damages." He rubbed his temples, already feeling tomorrow's headache forming.

That evening, Lulu insisted on "helping" Merry prepare for the photo shoot. Of course, Lulu's version of helping involved excessive enthusiasm, loud encouragement, and a complete disregard for Merry's fragile nerves. The garden — once Lucien's quiet sanctuary — had transformed into a battlefield of pom‑poms, colorful ribbons, and glitter that absolutely no one remembered buying. The air shimmered with chaos, and the grass sparkled like it had been personally blessed by a hyperactive fairy.

Merry stood stiffly in the center of it all, clutching her apron like a shield. Her camouflage flickered every few seconds, her body threatening to vanish entirely each time Lulu shouted something new. "Come on, Merry! Louder! With passion!" Lulu cried, striking an exaggerated pose with her imaginary megaphone. "You're supposed to inspire the people, not terrify them!"

"I'm not terrifying anyone," Merry protested, her voice barely above a whisper. Her scales shimmered pink with embarrassment, her tail twitching like a nervous metronome.

"You are terrifyingly cute then!" Lulu corrected proudly, hands on her hips as if she had just delivered a royal decree.

Lucien leaned against the doorframe, watching the chaos unfold with the hollow stare of a man who had lost control of his own backyard. "Remind me again why this is happening in my backyard," he muttered, though he pretty much already knew the answer.

Lulu spun toward him, a sparkle in her eyes that screamed too late to stop me now. "Because, Lucien! Every great team needs a coach, and every coach needs an audience!" She struck a pose so triumphant it could've summoned a marching band.

At that exact moment, one of Merry's pom‑poms exploded—glitter bursting into the air like a fairy sneezing confetti. The shimmering cloud drifted across the garden in a sparkling arc. Lulu gasped in delight, clapping her hands. "Spectacular! It's like the spirit of enthusiasm itself!"

Merry, on the other hand, let out a tiny yelp and promptly vanished in a shimmer of chameleon magic. The only things left behind were a pair of twitching pom‑poms and a faint cloud of glitter drifting down like snow. Her camouflage flickered once, then disappeared entirely.

Lucien sighed deeply, the kind of sigh reserved for people who have seen too much nonsense before breakfast. "How do you even know so much about cheerleading anyway?" he muttered, rubbing his temples.

Lulu spun toward him with her usual sparkle of unearned confidence. "Oh, don't worry yourself about minor details!" she said, hands on her hips. "A princess must be well‑versed in all forms of morale‑boosting activities! It's part of leadership!" Her voice carried the same certainty she used when declaring new village holidays.

Lucien raised an eyebrow. "Leadership. Right. And where exactly did you learn this… royal discipline?"

She waved him off, grinning. "Trade secret! Probably from someone who came from another world or something!"

Lucien muttered under his breath, "Of course it was," already imagining the paperwork this would somehow create.

Unbothered, Lulu picked up the stray pom‑poms and turned toward the empty air where Merry had been standing. "Now, Merry, darling! You'll never become a true cheerleader if you keep disappearing every time you sparkle! The camera can't photograph invisible enthusiasm!"

From somewhere nearby, Merry's disembodied voice whimpered, "I'm trying! Glitter went up my nose…"

Lulu nodded sagely, as if this were a perfectly reasonable artistic challenge. "Good! That's the spirit of performance—suffering for art!"

Lucien buried his face in his hands. "Why do I feel like I'm the one suffering here…"

That evening when Merry finally made it home, she closed the door behind her and immediately slid down against it, landing on the floor with a soft, defeated thud. Her pom‑poms were still clutched in her hands—traitorous, glitter‑covered reminders of the chaos she had somehow been dragged into. She stared at them for a long moment, her expression blank with disbelief, before dropping them like they were cursed relics from an ancient temple. They bounced once, scattering a few stubborn flecks of glitter across the floorboards.

Her cheeks puffed as she let out a long, weary sigh. "I can't believe I actually agreed to this…" she muttered, curling up on the floor with her knees tucked to her chest. Her shyness had been tested to its absolute limits today. Every cheer, every pose, every "Go team!" had felt less like practice and more like an act of emotional survival. She wasn't built for this kind of spotlight—she was built for quiet mornings, soft colors, and the gentle whisper of a paintbrush.

For a fleeting moment, she genuinely considered faking a cold tomorrow. Or maybe vanishing entirely and pretending she'd been "lost to the forest spirits." It would've been less embarrassing. She imagined the villagers leaving offerings at the forest edge while she hid behind a tree, invisible and mortified.

But instead, she forced herself up and shuffled toward her easel. Her little studio corner was a warm, sunlit mess—paint‑stained cloths, brushes soaking in cloudy water, and a canvas halfway to completion. The familiar clutter soothed her nerves. She perched herself on the stool and stared at her painting: a tranquil meadow beneath a bright blue sky. The perfect picture of calm… something she was decidedly not.

"Okay… deep breath," she whispered, dipping her brush into the green paint. With practiced grace, she swept color across the canvas, forming soft, rolling grass. Each brushstroke eased her tension a little. Her shoulders relaxed, her breathing slowed, and the frantic pounding of her heart softened into something manageable.

Then she reached for her blue paint—and frowned. The jar was nearly empty. She tilted it, shook it, and got a pathetic splatter that barely made a dent in the sky.

She set down her palette with a sigh, shoulders drooping. "Of course. Out of blue again…"

Her eyes wandered around the room—the paint‑stained floor, the half‑finished works stacked in the corner, the brushes that had seen better days. Being an artist didn't exactly pay much, not in Keimonomimi Village. But the photo shoot—ridiculous as it was—would help her buy more supplies. More blue. More canvas. More of the things that made her world feel whole.

So she hugged her knees and rested her chin on them, murmuring softly, "Just this once… I'll do it. For my art."

Then, after a pause, she smiled faintly. "And… Lucien and Lulu will be there. I won't be alone." Her voice was quiet, but warm with hope.

And just like that, Merry picked up her brush again—painting a few soft strokes of green, a hint of yellow sunlight. Tomorrow would be a disaster, surely. But maybe, just maybe, it could be at least a little fun with Lucien and Lulu at her side… assuming she survived the ordeal in the first place.

The morning sun shone brightly over Keimonomimi Village, spilling golden light across the square in soft, warm waves. It was the kind of day meant for relaxation, quiet walks, and maybe a nice cup of tea. Naturally, Lucien got none of that. His peaceful morning had been hijacked the moment Princess Lulu decided the world needed cheerleaders.

"Good morning, everyone!" Lulu's voice rang through the air like a trumpet announcing a royal parade. She stood in the middle of the village square, radiating confidence and sunshine. Beside her stood Merry—who looked ready to die.

Merry stood there like a nervous dream wrapped in sparkles. Her cheerleading outfit shimmered with pastel hues of lilac and mint, trimmed with gold that caught the light every time she fidgeted. The cropped top left just a hint of her midriff exposed—much to her embarrassment—and a tiny ribbon bow sat neatly tied at her chest, quivering every time she breathed. Her short pleated skirt swished with every anxious step, revealing just a bit of her striped leggings underneath.

Around her wrists were matching cuffs, frilled and ribboned, giving her a soft, doll‑like charm. Her hair—a bright cascade of green streaked with gold—was tied into playful twin buns, with a few loose strands curling down to frame her cheeks. Glitter from the pom‑poms clung to her skin, sparkling like tiny stars whenever she moved. Her chameleon tail curled and uncurled behind her, its colors shifting with her mood—soft green, faint rosy pink, then back again as her blush deepened. At one point, it even tried to coil around her leg for comfort, as if seeking somewhere to hide from all the attention.

But what truly completed the look were her pom‑poms—oversized, fluffy, and full of chaotic energy, as if they had minds of their own. She clutched them tightly, trembling slightly as she squeaked out, "D‑do I really have to shout the cheers too…"

Her big emerald eyes darted around, shimmering between pride and sheer panic. Despite her shyness, she looked utterly adorable—a bashful little cheerleader who might vanish at any second if someone complimented her too loudly. Her knees were locked together, her pom‑poms trembling in her hands. Her tail—long, chameleon‑like, and dotted with nervous spots—curled anxiously around her leg.

"L‑Lulu… do we really have to do this here? Everyone's looking…" she whispered.

"Nonsense!" Lulu declared, twirling once and striking a pose so dazzling that a few villagers actually clapped. "The people love it! Look at their smiles! We're spreading joy, Merry!"

Lulu's cheer outfit didn't just steal the show — it declared ownership of it. If Merry looked like she'd been dragged into the photo shoot by the whims of fate, Lulu looked like she had been sculpted by destiny specifically for this moment. Her golden hair shimmered in the sunlight, cascading down her back in a long, buoyant ponytail whose curling ribbons danced with every energetic bounce she made. The bright pink bow perched atop her head framed her tiny golden crown, because even in full cheer regalia, Lulu refused to exist without a symbol of her royalty. The sunlight caught in her hair so perfectly that it seemed as though she carried her own personal spotlight, following her with unwavering devotion.

Her cheerleading uniform radiated a kind of royal enthusiasm that only Lulu could embody — a cropped pink‑and‑lilac top with a jaunty collar, paired with a pleated skirt that twirled like petals caught in a gentle breeze. Tiny golden accents glinted along the fabric, each one shaped like stars or hearts, unmistakably stamped with her signature aesthetic. Her pom‑poms, bright gold and ivory, flashed like bursts of sunlight every time she struck a pose, scattering flecks of reflected light across the grass.

Every detail of her ensemble was impossibly coordinated, from the satin ribbon tied neatly at her waist to the pastel tights that shimmered faintly whenever she moved. A small charm shaped like her royal crest dangled from her belt, swaying with each cheer motion as if announcing her presence with every step. Even her shoes sparkled, catching the light in a way that made them look enchanted.

And then there was her expression — that unmistakable gleam of confidence that bordered on playful mischief, her sapphire eyes sparkling with excitement and just a hint of chaos. She even had a lollipop tucked between her lips, which she twirled with theatrical flair as though it were a royal scepter she'd repurposed for cheerleading. The effect was equal parts adorable and intimidating, the kind of charisma that demanded attention without ever asking for it.

"Ready, team?" she'd shout, shaking her pom‑poms overhead and sending glittering flecks into the air like fairy dust. "Let's bring some royal energy to this world!"

Standing beside her, poor Merry looked like she wanted to sink straight into the grass and disappear forever. Yet even next to Lulu's radiant, sun‑bright confidence, her nervousness seemed to catch a faint shimmer of borrowed sparkle, as though Lulu's presence alone softened the edges of her anxiety. Merry made a sound somewhere between a squeak and a whimper, her tail drooping.

"I‑I feel like I'm spreading secondhand embarrassment…"

Super, perched on a wooden crate with a camera balanced on a tripod and a grin that could only be described as dangerously satisfied, adjusted his lens with theatrical precision. "Perfect lighting! Great energy! Lulu, hold that pose! Merry, try to look less like you're being chased by a bear!"

"I feel like I'm being chased by a bear!" Merry hissed, her tail turning the same shade as the grass as she partially vanished from sight.

Lucien sighed from the sidelines, pinching the bridge of his nose with the weariness of a man who had long accepted his fate. "Super, are you sure this is appropriate for the village square? We're drawing a crowd."

"Exactly!" Super beamed, as if this were the most obvious advantage in the world. "More eyes mean more buzz. More buzz means more business. Think of it as free publicity!"

"I think of it as public chaos," Lucien muttered, though even he couldn't quite hide the reluctant amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Lulu was already striking another pose, her energy utterly undeterred by the growing audience gathering around them. Her pom‑poms flashed in the sunlight as she leaned forward with a grin so bright it could have powered the entire village square. "Come on, Merry! Smile! We're supposed to cheer people up, not scare them off!"

Merry blinked back into visibility, her cheeks glowing a vivid pink that nearly matched Lulu's bow. She raised her pom‑poms with the hesitant energy of someone holding a fragile artifact rather than a tool of enthusiasm. "G‑Go team?" she whispered, her voice wobbling like a leaf in the wind.

"That's the spirit!" Lulu declared, giving her a pat on the back so enthusiastic that Merry nearly dropped both pom‑poms and her dignity. The impact sent Merry stumbling forward, her tail flickering in and out of sight like a faulty lantern. Even so, Lulu's radiant approval seemed to wrap around her like a warm blanket, coaxing her into staying visible.

Lucien let out a sigh so deep it could have been mistaken for a centuries‑old spirit escaping its mortal vessel. He pinched the bridge of his nose, already imagining the future stress lines forming. "What teams are you talking about? You two are going to give me gray hair before my thirties."

Super, meanwhile, adjusted the camera lens with the dramatic flair of a director convinced he was capturing the birth of a cultural phenomenon. The sunlight glinted off the metal in sharp, rhythmic flashes that felt like the drumbeat of impending chaos. "Oh, don't be such a grump, Elder! This is history in the making — the Royal Cheerleader and the Shy Chameleon, together in one frame!"

Merry let out a strangled groan and buried her face in her pom‑poms, her tail wrapping around her leg in mortification. "Please don't give it such an embarrassing title…" she mumbled, her voice muffled by synthetic fluff and pure despair. Even so, the faint shimmer of her tail suggested she wasn't quite ready to disappear again.

Lulu didn't miss a beat. The moment Super announced the transition to "real poses," she lit up like someone had just handed her a crown made of fireworks. Her pom‑poms twirled in bright, glittering arcs as she bounced in place, completely unfazed by the growing crowd or the rising tension radiating off her teammate. "Ooooh, real poses! That sounds fun!"

Merry, meanwhile, looked like she was about to faint straight into the grass. Her pom‑poms trembled in her hands, held tight like a lifeline she wasn't entirely sure how to use. "W‑what kind of poses?" she whispered, her voice so small it nearly vanished into the breeze.

"The kind that sell dreams!" Super declared, snapping his fingers with the confidence of someone who believed he was crafting a legendary masterpiece. He gestured wildly, as if conducting an invisible orchestra of enthusiasm. "Close contact! Energy! Team spirit! I want to feel the friendship!"

Merry blinked, her expression caught somewhere between confusion and dread. "F‑Friendship?"

"Yes! Like this!" Super said, grabbing a bewildered villager and yanking them into a demonstration pose. "One of you leans in — big smiles! — the other rests her hand on her shoulder. You're connected! Powerful! Radiant!"

Lulu gasped as though she'd just been shown the secrets of the universe. Her eyes sparkled with unfiltered excitement, and she immediately reached for Merry. "Oh, I love it! Come on, Merry!"

Before Merry could protest, Lulu pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her shoulders with the affectionate force of a small, cheerful hurricane. Lulu flashed her brightest royal smile, radiating confidence and charm. Super adjusted his lens with a triumphant grin. "Perfect! Hold that! Three, two, one—"

Click! —and before the camera had a chance to catch the moment, Merry vanished. The camera captured Lulu smiling brilliantly beside… absolutely nothing.

Super groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Okay, let's try again! Maybe closer this time!"

Merry appeared for another chance. Another pose. Another countdown. Another flash. And another poof.

"WHERE DID SHE GO?!" Lulu cried, spinning in frantic circles as if Merry might be hiding behind her own shadow.

Super slammed his notebook shut with theatrical despair. "I'm starting to think she's doing this on purpose…"

"I‑I'm not!" came a trembling voice from nowhere, quivering like a leaf in a storm. "I just—there's too many people watching!"

Lulu planted her fists on her hips, lower lip jutting out in a dramatic pout as the villagers laughed good‑naturedly around her. Her curls bounced with indignation, glitter still clinging to them from the earlier chaos. "You can't vanish during a royal cheer, Merry! It ruins the rhythm!"

"W‑well maybe the royal cheer shouldn't involve standing this close!" Merry squeaked, her voice cracking like a twig under pressure. Her pom‑poms trembled in her hands, and her tail flickered in and out of sight like a nervous metronome.

Super, undeterred by physics, dignity, or common sense, clapped his hands with the enthusiasm of a man who believed he was orchestrating a legendary moment. "One last try! Big finish, both of you back‑to‑back, pom‑poms up—look victorious!" His grin widened as if he could already see the poster hanging in the village square.

Lulu lit up instantly, her entire body vibrating with excitement. "Now that, I can do!" she declared, already spinning into position with the grace of a glitter‑covered comet.

Merry gulped but obeyed, stepping stiffly behind Lulu like someone approaching a magical ritual they weren't entirely convinced was safe. Her shoulders were tense, her tail twitching, but she lifted her pom‑poms anyway, determined to at least try.

"Okay!" Super crouched down, adjusting his camera with the precision of a man defusing a bomb. "Three… two… one—smile!"

Lulu threw her pom‑poms high, radiating pure joy. Merry tried to copy her, but panic surged through her like a lightning bolt. Her tail shot out, wrapped around Lulu's leg, and the two of them toppled over in a spectacular tangle of limbs, ribbons, and airborne glitter. The crowd gasped as the pair hit the grass in a soft, sparkly explosion.

Lulu lay sprawled on her back, pom‑poms scattered like fallen stars around her. Bits of confetti clung to her curls, and she blinked up at the sky with dazed dignity. "Ow…" she muttered. "At least tell me someone got the shot."

Super peeked at his camera screen with the solemnity of a man checking exam results he already feared. "…I got half a pom‑pom and an empty frame."

By the time Lulu sat up, Merry was gone. Silence settled over the square for a beat — then the faint sound of hurried footsteps pattered away into a nearby alley, accompanied by the soft rustle of someone trying very hard to be invisible; both literally and metaphorically.

Lucien groaned, brushing off his coat as he started after her. "I'll go check on her. She's probably halfway to the forest by now."

But Lulu reached out and caught his wrist, her touch surprisingly gentle. Her voice softened, losing its usual theatrical sparkle. "Wait. Let me talk to her."

Lucien blinked, taken aback by the sudden seriousness in her tone. Her expression was earnest, steady.

"She's my subject," Lulu said quietly. "And my teammate. I'll talk to her."

Lucien hesitated, then nodded, stepping back with a sigh. "Alright, Princess. But… go easy on her."

Lulu offered a faint, warm smile. "Don't worry. I'm not always chaos incarnate."

Super snorted loudly from behind the camera. "That's debatable."

Lulu shot Super a look so sharp it could have curdled milk on the spot, then turned toward the alley with a swish of her skirt. Glitter drifted from her outfit as she walked, catching the sunlight in tiny sparks that trailed behind her like a royal comet. Each step carried a determined grace — less the chaotic cheerleader from moments ago, and more a princess on a mission to retrieve a runaway star.

The alley was quiet in that way only tucked‑away corners of a village could be, filled with soft echoes of wind slipping between buildings. A faint clatter rolled across the cobblestones — likely a runaway pom‑pom making its escape after the earlier disaster. The dimness contrasted sharply with the bright chaos of the square, as though the world itself had lowered its volume for the sake of one trembling artist.

Merry crouched behind a stack of crates, her knees pulled tightly to her chest as she tried to steady her breathing. Her regular apron and simple dress had returned, the familiar fabric grounding her after the sensory storm of the photo shoot. Beside her, the cheerleader outfit lay discarded like a misplaced festival decoration — mint and lilac fabric glowing with cheerfulness, utterly out of place in the muted alley shadows.

She sighed, her voice small but honest. "I can paint in front of a canvas for hours, but the second people look at me — poof." Her tail, long and spiraled like a candy‑striped seashell, curled protectively around her as if shielding her from the memory. "Maybe I'm just not made for this."

"Not made for what?" came a bright voice — the kind of voice that sounded like glitter had learned to speak.

Merry gasped, nearly launching herself into orbit. Lulu stood at the mouth of the alley, framed by sunlight like she'd rehearsed the entrance. Her golden curls bounced as she stepped forward, her cheerleader outfit shimmering with every confident stride. Even her pom‑poms seemed to sparkle indignantly, as though offended that anyone would dare feel gloomy in their presence.

"P‑Princess Lulu!" Merry squeaked, mortified and relieved all at once.

"Indeed!" Lulu declared, planting her hands on her hips with theatrical pride. "I followed the trail of panic and sparkles right to you."

"I'm sorry," Merry murmured, staring at the ground. "I just couldn't do it. Everyone was staring. And then my power—"

"—made you vanish in the middle of a pose," Lulu finished, crouching beside her with surprising gentleness. "Yes, I noticed. Super was about two sighs away from turning into a puff of smoke."

Merry groaned and buried her face in her hands. "I ruined everything."

Lulu tilted her head, her expression softening. "You didn't ruin anything. You just… added mystery!"

That earned a tiny, reluctant laugh, but Merry's voice still wavered. "I wanted to help. I really did. But I just get so scared."

For a moment, Lulu didn't speak. Instead, she reached down and picked up the discarded cheerleader outfit, brushing off a speck of dust with care that felt almost ceremonial. Then she held it out, not pushing, not demanding — simply offering.

"Then let's try again," she said softly. "But this time, not for Super, not for the camera, and not even for the art supplies. Do it for you."

Merry looked up, startled, her eyes wide and uncertain. Lulu smiled — not her usual dazzling grin, but something warmer, steadier, a quiet kind of encouragement. "Because the you that shows up, even when she's scared, is already stronger than she thinks."

Slowly, Merry reached out and took the outfit, her fingers brushing the soft fabric as though it might dissolve if she held it too tightly. She hesitated for a long moment, her breath catching in her throat, before whispering, "Can you… turn around, please?" Her voice was so small it barely reached the air between them.

Lulu blinked, then brightened. "Oh! Of course." She spun around with theatrical flourish — because even granting privacy came with flair when it came to Princess Lulu. Her curls bounced, her skirt swished, and her pom‑poms rustled indignantly, as if offended at being denied the spotlight.

A few moments later, Merry stood again in the cheerleader outfit. It fit her perfectly, hugging her form without restricting her movement, the colors softening against her skin rather than overwhelming her. Her tail flicked behind her, its hues slowly shifting back to their natural greens and golds as her nerves settled into something gentler, steadier.

Lulu turned back — and gasped so dramatically it echoed off the alley walls. She clasped her hands to her chest, eyes sparkling. "Oh my stars! You look adorable! I'm declaring this an official royal decree of cuteness!" The words rang with such sincerity that even the shadows seemed to brighten.

Before Merry could protest, Lulu stepped forward and gently pulled her into a hug. It wasn't one of Lulu's usual whirlwind squeezes that left people breathless and dizzy — it was soft, warm, and protective, like a blanket wrapped around a trembling heart. Merry stiffened at first, then melted into it, her breath hitching.

"You've got this," Lulu murmured, her voice low and steady. "And if anyone laughs at you again, I'll make them run laps around the whole village." There was no joke in her tone — only fierce loyalty wrapped in glitter.

Merry let out a watery laugh, hugging her back with trembling arms. "You're really nice, Princess Lulu."

"Of course I am," Lulu said proudly, stepping back and wiping a nonexistent tear from her eye with regal exaggeration. "I'm the future ruler of Atland — heart with a conscience, darling." Her smile softened into something real, something warm enough to melt the last of Merry's fear.

The two shared a giggle, the sound light and genuine, and for the first time that day, Merry didn't feel like vanishing. She felt seen — not as a spectacle, not as a mistake, but as someone worth cheering for.

The photo shoot rolled on beneath the golden afternoon sun, Super prancing around his camera setup like an artist possessed by ten muses and at least three questionable decisions. His feathered cape sliced dramatically through the air as he shouted, "Energy! Emotion! Friendship!" with the conviction of someone directing an opera rather than two cheerleaders. "Now—Lulu, arm linked around Merry's! Merry, look proud, not like you're about to be executed!"

Merry, of course, immediately vanished in a soft shimmer of panic. Super let out a groan that echoed off the buildings. "Not again! That's the fourth time this minute!" His despair was so theatrical it nearly deserved its own applause.

Only Lulu's exasperated sigh remained beside the empty space where Merry had been. Her hands settled on her hips as she addressed the air with regal patience. "Merry, dear, you have to stay visible if you want the world to see your courage!"

A faint, trembling voice drifted from nowhere. "I‑I can't help it! Everyone's staring!"

Lulu's blue eyes softened, her expression shifting from dramatic to tender in a heartbeat. She leaned closer, lowering her voice to a whisper warm enough to melt fear. "Hey… you've got this. You're not alone, okay? Just focus on me."

The faint outline of Merry flickered back into view — nervous, shimmering, but visible. Lulu smiled and looped an arm gently around her shoulders, grounding her like a steady hand on a trembling canvas. "That's it. Deep breaths. Pretend it's just you and your art."

Super adjusted his camera lens with renewed vigor. "Perfect! Now—Merry, tilt your head! Lulu, smile like you've just won the world's biggest pastry!"

Click.

For a moment, everything dissolved into chaos — Merry's tail coiling nervously around her leg, Lulu's hair glittering like spun sunlight, and confetti from who‑knows‑where raining down as Super shouted about "capturing the essence of passion." Yet through it all, Lulu stayed close, whispering encouragements between every flash, her voice a steady anchor.

"You're doing amazing."

"Don't worry about them — just me."

"See? You sparkle even brighter than the glitter."

By the time Super called for the final pose, Merry was trembling but still standing, her form solid and present. Lulu raised her pom‑poms high and beamed, radiating confidence like a sunbeam in motion. Merry gave a tiny, wobbly smile beside her — small, but real.

The camera clicked. And Merry didn't vanish this time.

"Beautiful!" Super cried, tears welling in his eyes as he clutched his chest. "Pure, unfiltered art!"

When the final camera click echoed through the village square, Merry froze like a startled rabbit caught in a beam of sunlight. Her pom‑poms slipped from her hands and fluttered to the ground in a sparkling heap, scattering gold and ivory across the grass. For a long, breathless moment, she simply stood there — eyes wide, tail twitching nervously behind her — before her knees finally gave out beneath her.

"I… I think it's over," she whispered, sinking into the grass as though her bones had turned to mist. Her cheeks were crimson, her chest rising and falling in uneven waves as she tried to steady her breathing. But even as embarrassment coursed through her, a realization flickered through her mind like a timid spark: she hadn't vanished during the final poses.

Lulu squealed in triumph, tossing her pom‑poms into the air like celebratory confetti. "You did it, Merry! You really did it!" Her voice rang with pride, bright enough to rival the afternoon sun.

Super, meanwhile, was already hunched over his camera like an artist discovering divine revelation. "Magnificent! Glorious! The contrast! The chaos!" he cried, flipping through the photos with wild enthusiasm. "Lulu, your smile radiates victory — while Merry's pure, wide‑eyed horror brings such depth! Such emotion! It's a story of courage, fear, and friendship!" His excitement practically vibrated through the square.

Merry covered her face with both hands. "P‑Please don't say it like that…" she mumbled, her voice muffled by her palms.

But Lulu only laughed, kneeling beside her and gently wrapping her arms around the trembling girl. The hug was warm and steady, grounding Merry like a hand pressed to a beating heart. "Don't listen to him. You were amazing! You didn't disappear, you didn't run, and you stood right beside me the whole time."

Merry blinked, startled by the softness in Lulu's voice. The princess's eyes gleamed not with mischief or theatrics, but with pride — gentle, sincere, and unwavering. It was the kind of look that made Merry feel like she wasn't just tolerated, but valued.

"Thank you, Lulu…" Merry whispered, her voice fragile but honest. "I couldn't have done it without you."

Lulu smiled, brushing a speck of glitter from Merry's hair with a tenderness that felt almost royal. "Of course you could. You just needed a little cheerleading magic!" Her grin sparkled, but the warmth behind it was real.

Super wiped a dramatic tear from his eye. "Beautiful. Truly beautiful. I shall call this collection 'Royal Radiance and the Panic of Art.'"

"Please don't," Lucien muttered, rubbing his forehead like a man already preparing for the next disaster.

Lulu helped Merry back to her feet, their hands still faintly dusted with golden sparkles that shimmered whenever they moved. Merry's tail uncurled shyly, its colors shifting into soft pinks and warm yellows that glowed in the afternoon light — a nervous but undeniably proud chameleon shimmer. For the first time since the chaos began, she didn't try to hide it.

Lucien watched the two girls from a short distance, a rare, fond smile tugging at the corner of his usually stern mouth. Lulu was laughing again, bright and radiant, gently fixing a stray curl in Merry's hair while brushing glitter from her shoulders. For all her whirlwind energy and theatrical chaos, she had a gift: she made people shine, even those who wanted nothing more than to disappear into the background.

"Maybe she really will be a fine ruler someday," he thought, arms folding loosely as he observed the unlikely pair. "A chaotic one, yes — but one with a heart that can move mountains."

A few quiet days passed after the photo shoot fiasco, and for once, Keimonomimi Village had settled back into something resembling normalcy. The glitter had finally been swept from the cobblestones, the last stray pom‑pom had been rescued from a rooftop gutter, and Lucien had almost convinced himself that the chaos was behind him. That illusion lasted exactly until the gentle knock on his door.

When he opened it, Merry stood there, clutching a folder to her chest and smiling so brightly it looked like she might burst into sparkles again. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, and her chameleon tail flicked in delighted little twitches behind her, shifting through soft greens and golds. She radiated a kind of joy that made Lucien straighten in surprise.

"Good morning, Lucien!" she said, her voice bright and bubbling. "I just wanted to thank you for helping me."

Lucien blinked, caught off guard. "Me? I didn't do much. You're the one who managed to stay visible in front of an entire crowd." His tone was gentle, but there was unmistakable pride beneath it.

Merry's smile turned bashful, but her eyes shone with excitement. "I used the money from the photo shoot to buy new paints — and brushes! And, um… the art museum in Drakenburg saw my work and wants to feature my paintings in their next exhibition!" The words tumbled out of her in a rush, as if she'd been holding them in for days.

Lucien's face softened into a proud grin, rare and warm. "That's amazing, Merry. You really earned it."

"I couldn't have done it without you and Lulu," she said earnestly. Then she held out the folder with both hands. "Oh — and this is for her. Please give it to her for me!"

Before Lucien could ask what it was, Merry's tail gave one last excited flick and she scampered off down the road, humming to herself. Halfway home, she vanished in her usual fashion — but this time, it felt more like a playful flourish than a panic response.

Curious, Lucien opened the folder. Inside were several glossy photographs — Super's work, printed and perfectly preserved. The first photo stopped him in his tracks: Merry and Lulu mid‑jump, pom‑poms raised high, hair flying in opposite directions. Lulu's radiant grin seemed to sparkle straight off the page, while Merry's expression was a perfect mix of determination and sheer panic. Somehow, impossibly, it worked — chaotic, heartfelt, and beautiful.

Lucien had just begun to smile to himself when a familiar voice chirped behind him, bright as a bell and twice as startling. "Oooh, are those the pictures from our shoot?"

He nearly dropped the folder. "Lulu! Don't sneak up on me like that—"

But it was already too late. The princess had swooped in with the speed and precision of a magpie spotting something shiny, snatching the photos straight out of his hands. She flipped through them with gleeful abandon, each page turn punctuated by a delighted gasp.

"Look how cute I am!" she declared, holding one up to the light like a priceless artifact. "Oh! And look at Merry — she's adorable when she's terrified!"

Lucien rubbed his temples with a groan, though the faint upward tug at the corner of his mouth betrayed him. "You really have a strange way of complimenting people, you know that?"

Lulu only giggled, hugging the photos to her chest as if they were a treasure trove of memories. "That's because it's true! And besides…" She drifted toward the window, her gaze softening as she looked out at the village bathed in late‑afternoon gold.

"Helping Merry made me happy too," she said quietly, her voice losing its usual theatrical lilt. "I think that's what being a good princess is about — helping others shine, even if they're scared."

Lucien looked at her, then down at the photo again — the cheerful chaos of it, the wild energy, the courage tucked between panic and glitter. Something warm settled in his chest, a feeling he didn't often let himself linger on.

Maybe, just maybe, the world could use a little of Lulu's kind of madness.