He Came for the Bells, Stayed for the Cake Mug

The tiger insists this was never about the cake. That’s what he tells anyone who asks. He was summoned by the bells—clearly. Bells mean ceremony. Ceremony means importance. Importance means sitting very still and looking majestic while pretending you don’t notice dessert.But the cake knows the truth.It waits there patiently, frosting slowly dripping like it understands timing better than most creatures. The tiger tilts his head upward, mouth slightly open, trying to appear wise and otherworldly, while mentally calculating how many berries would fall if he leaned just a little closer.Snow—or maybe magic—floats through the air as the bells glow softly above him, ringing out something between a celebration and a bad idea. This is not a h

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