Chapter Text
ル ˖ ♡ ₍ ᐢ..ᐢ ₎ 📍 ࣪ . ›
Since he was little, Pure Vanilla had always been the kind of boy who worked harder than anyone else in the room. It wasn’t because he had to — it was because he wanted to prove he could build something of his own, no matter where he started.
College was supposed to be his big step forward. But life had other plans. Between tuition fees, rent, and the quiet pressure of surviving in a city that moved faster than his wallet, he dropped out during his second year of computer science.
He didn’t give up, though. He took a part-time job at a local convenience store, working late shifts behind the register. While most of his coworkers killed time scrolling on their phones, Pure Vanilla spent his breaks debugging cheap store software and fixing the broken self-checkout screens.
He never bragged about it — but people noticed. His manager called him a “machine in human form.” His coworkers joked that he could probably rebuild the store’s entire system if they let him. And honestly? They weren’t wrong.
After saving up enough money, Pure Vanilla quit the cashier job with a polite thank-you and a quiet smile. He wanted more. Something bigger. Something that would finally put all those self-taught coding nights to use.
He applied to every IT company he could find. Startups, agencies, tech firms — even the big ones that probably wouldn’t look twice at someone without a degree. Weeks turned into months. He sent dozens of applications, polished his portfolio, redid his resume three times, but nothing came back.
Sometimes he wondered if he should just give up — find another part-time job, settle into a routine, stop dreaming about writing code for a living.
But every night, when he sat in front of his old laptop, the screen’s soft glow reminded him of why he started.
He wasn’t going to let his story end behind a counter. Not when there was still a chance — however small — that someone, somewhere, might finally see his worth.
And that chance came in the form of a company name everyone in the city knew: ShadowCorp Industries.
A tech empire led by the cold, unreadable genius himself — Shadow Milk.
Pure Vanilla heard that name everywhere. Every business site, every social feed, every glowing headline that made him feel smaller. Shadow Milk Cookie. The man everyone called a genius and a tyrant in the same breath.
He had seen the interviews, the quotes, the sharp look in that CEO’s mismatched eyes — calm, unreadable, almost inhuman. Articles said he was strict, that he demanded perfection, that a single mistake could cost you your job. Some even said he had no mercy at all.
Pure Vanilla didn’t know if he believed everything he read, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out either.
He sat at his tiny kitchen table, the light flickering above him, a half-open laptop glowing faintly beside a bowl of instant noodles. Steam curled lazily upward as he twirled them with his chopsticks, his thoughts heavy.
Another bite. Another sigh.
The taste was plain, the same as always, but it was all he could afford. He scrolled again on his phone, watching Shadow Milk’s face appear on every page like an unshakable reminder of success he could never reach.
“Strict, huh…” he mumbled, swallowing slowly. “Guess that means he doesn’t waste time.”
He set his phone down, pushing the empty noodle cup aside. His eyes lingered on the screen — on the job post stamped with ShadowCorp Industries.
For a long moment, he didn’t move. Then, quietly, almost stubbornly, he whispered to himself:
“…Maybe it’s worth a try.”
Pure Vanilla leaned closer to the laptop screen, the blue light washing over his tired face as he opened ShadowCorp Industries’ official website. The loading page alone looked expensive — a clean, black background with the company’s silver emblem glinting like metal. The bold headline at the top read:
“Join the Future. Join ShadowCorp.”
He hesitated before clicking Apply Now.
The page unfolded into a wall of boxes, each one more demanding than the last. Full name. Date of birth. Education. Previous employment. References. Portfolio link. Then, the dreaded “Describe your work ethic” and “Why should we hire you?”
He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “They really want to know everything, huh…” Still, he started typing. Slowly, carefully.
— Full name: Pure Vanilla Cookie.
— Education: Two years of Computer Science, self-taught beyond that.
— Experience: Part-time cashier, freelance repair technician, independent web developer.
— Skills: HTML, JavaScript, C++, UI/UX design, customer communication, multitasking.
He uploaded a few small projects — the inventory system he made for the convenience store, a simple website prototype, even a rough game he’d coded for fun. Then came the essay-style questions.
“What motivates you to work for ShadowCorp?”
“How do you handle pressure?”
“Describe a time you failed — and what you learned.”
Pure Vanilla took his time. He wrote honestly, without trying to sound perfect. He explained that he wanted to grow, to prove himself through effort rather than titles. He admitted he wasn’t the most experienced, but he refused to stay stagnant.
By the time he hit Submit, more than two hours had passed.
He slumped back in his chair, stretching his stiff fingers. The progress bar on the screen glowed green — Application Submitted Successfully.
Pure Vanilla couldn’t help but grin faintly to himself. “That was brutal…” he murmured. “This CEO really is strict.”
He stared at the confirmation page for a few more seconds, then closed the laptop with a soft click.
Maybe Shadow Milk Cookie would never even see his name. Maybe it would just be another unread file in a mountain of applications.
But even so… Pure Vanilla felt strangely proud. For once, he’d tried — really tried! And for him, that was enough for tonight....
‧˚꒰🐾୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ
That night, Pure Vanilla slept like a newborn. The kind of deep, quiet sleep that only comes after you’ve poured everything you have into something uncertain.
For the first time in a long while, he didn’t stay up scrolling through job boards or refreshing his email every hour. The hum of the city outside faded into nothing as he lay on his worn mattress, his laptop still open on the desk, its faint glow fading to black.
He hoped—really hoped—he’d be accepted!
Money was starting to run thin. The envelope of savings in his drawer felt lighter every week, and the rent date was getting closer again. The small jobs barely kept him afloat anymore. A company like ShadowCorp would pay well, better than anything he’d ever had before. A stable income. Maybe even a future!
He turned on his side, pulling the blanket over his shoulder. The room was quiet except for the soft creak of the floor and the wind brushing against the window.
“Maybe this is it,” he murmured to himself, voice half-dreaming. “Maybe things will finally change....” he yawn.
And with that small flicker of hope in his chest, Pure Vanilla closed his eyes. Whatever tomorrow would bring—rejection, success, or silence—he would face it. But for now, he simply let the world fade away and drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, Pure Vanilla was dragged out of his sleep by an annoying, constant buzzing sound.
He groaned, rolling over and pulling the pillow over his head. “Ugh… what is that?” he mumbled, his voice muffled and groggy. His alarm clock was dark—he hadn’t even set it last night. So what could possibly— Then his half-asleep brain caught up.
His phone.
And the caller ID flashing on the screen made his heart skip a beat: Incoming Call — Unknown Number.
Pure Vanilla jolted upright like lightning, his blanket flying halfway across the room. “No way—already?!” His hands trembled as he snatched the phone off the nightstand, nearly dropping it in his rush.
He pressed it to his ear, heart hammering. “H-Hello?” he stammered, trying to sound calm but failing miserably.
There was a short pause. Then a familiar voice, soft and calm, replied, “Vanilla? It’s me—White Lily! 'm sorry I couldn't call you from my personal phone I got a bit tangled this morning!”
Pure Vanilla froze for a second. White Lily?
Of course. That voice—he’d know it anywhere. His ex.
They had dated back in high school, and for a while into college too, before life pulled them apart. She wanted to travel and open her own flower shop, and he… well, he was too busy trying to survive. The distance and the mismatched goals made the breakup inevitable, but they’d stayed in touch, managed to rebuild something like friendship over time. These days, things weren’t awkward anymore. Talking to her felt easy, like a calm breeze through an open window.
“Oh—White Lily,” he said, his tone softening, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “You scared me for a second. I thought you were…” He trailed off with a nervous laugh.
“A new job application?” she guessed knowingly, her voice carrying a light chuckle. “Let me guess—you applied to another one last night?”
He smiled faintly. “Yeah! Actually a big company!”
“Well,” she said warmly, “you’ll get it, I know you will. But for now, I actually called to ask if you could help me with something. My flower shop’s register system completely froze this morning. It’s all connected to the new display screens, and I have no idea what went wrong.”
He blinked, sitting up straighter. “You... want me to fix it....?”
“If you’re free,” she said. “And, of course, I’ll pay you. A few hours of work, nothing too fancy! I just can’t afford to have the shop closed today...”
Pure Vanilla hesitated. He had been hoping that buzz really was ShadowCorp, but… money was money, and right now he didn’t have much choice.
He rubbed his temples and sighed. “Alright,” he said finally. “Send me the address. I’ll be there in half an hour.”
“Thank you,” she said, relief audible in her voice. “You’re a lifesaver, Vanilla.” He hung up, staring at the ceiling for a moment before letting out a small laugh.
“So much for a call from ShadowCorp,” he muttered, dragging himself out of bed. Still, as he pulled on his jacket and grabbed his old toolkit, he couldn’t help but feel a bit of warmth at the thought.
Even if it wasn’t that call… at least someone still believed in him.
‧˚꒰🐾୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ
After an hour and a half, Pure Vanilla finally arrived at White Lily’s flower shop.
The morning air still held a trace of chill, and the street smelled faintly of coffee and wet pavement. He stopped in front of the shop and stared at the delicate white letters painted across the glass door — Lily’s Garden. The window display was filled with hanging vines, soft pastel petals, and glowing fairy lights tucked between the leaves.
He had to admit, it was beautiful. Peaceful. And strangely, it felt like her.
Funny thing — despite knowing White Lily for years, he’d never actually been here. She’d talked about her dream of opening this place back in college, but he’d never been invited after it became real. Maybe she’d thought it would’ve been awkward back then. Maybe it would’ve been.
Taking a quiet breath, Pure Vanilla reached for the handle. The moment he stepped inside, a small brass bell above the door jingled softly, breaking the calm hush of the shop.
The air was thick with the sweet, earthy scent of flowers — lilies, roses, lavender — and somewhere, soft music played in the background.
White Lily stood behind the counter, finishing a transaction with a customer. Her voice was gentle and steady, the same as he remembered. When the customer left, she looked up — and her expression brightened the second her eyes met his.
“Vanilla!” she said warmly, waving him over.
He gave a small, almost shy smile and walked closer.
White Lily looked every bit like the person her shop was named after — graceful and delicate but quietly strong. She was tall and slender, her long white hair braided neatly down her back, held together by a small white lily clasp that glimmered in the sunlight. Her dress was a faded shade of green, long and slightly dusty from work, and her black shoes were smudged with soil. Her eyes — that striking reddish hue — glowed softly against her pale skin.
“You actually came,” she teased, wiping her hands on her apron.
“I said I would,” Pure Vanilla replied, his tone calm but laced with a small grin. He glanced around at the sea of flowers, impressed. “You really made this place yours, huh?”
White Lily’s smile softened, almost shy. “Took a lot of sleepless nights and more broken pots than I’d like to admit… but yes. It’s home now.”
He nodded quietly, setting his small repair kit on the counter. “Alright then,” he said, rolling up his sleeves. “Show me what’s broken.”
White Lily led him to the back counter, where a small computer screen sat frozen on a pale blue error page. A few cables tangled near the base, and one of the card readers blinked weakly, like it was ready to give up.
“This thing just stopped working out of nowhere,” she sighed, crouching beside him. “I tried restarting it, unplugging everything, even threatening it a little. Nothing.”
Pure Vanilla chuckled softly and knelt down beside the counter. “You know, threatening it usually works for me,” he teased, earning a light laugh from her.
He opened his toolkit and got to work, carefully reconnecting wires and checking the s