The restaurant doors opened with a slow, theatrical creak.

Not like old hinges.

Like applause warming up.

Ray stepped in first, Heartbreaker already in her hands, purple fire licking along the hammer’s head. Arcade followed close behind with a device clutched in one hand, Chip hovering over his shoulder. Pitch had Lady Luck ready, Hughes moved beside him with his jaw tight, and Carys held Lumina back with one arm as the little girl tried to push forward.

Skye stayed close to Arcade, pale but determined.

The inside of Galaxy Grub had changed.

It was no longer just a ruined space-themed restaurant.

Now it was a stage.

The tables had shifted into neat rows like an audience. The old animatronic platform glowed under pink and blue lights. Streamers of candy floss hung from the ceiling in thick, breathing ribbons. The walls shimmered with mana-holographic stars, turning the whole place into a warped children’s theatre floating in space.

At the centre of it all stood Sweet Fluff and Sour Puff.

Sweet Fluff, the pink candy-floss mouse, beamed so brightly it felt like being threatened by a birthday cake.

Sour Puff, the blue candy-floss mouse, drooped beside her, long fluffy pigtails sagging over her candy-floss dress, her miserable eyes half-lidded.

Both of them curtsied.

Their limbs stretched too long as they bowed.

“Guests have come, oh what a treat,”
Sweet Fluff sang.

“More little paws and frightened feet,”
Sour Puff sighed.

Ray raised Heartbreaker. “Let them go.”

Sweet Fluff blinked with exaggerated innocence. “Oh, she’s rude.”

Sour Puff nodded sadly. “Very rude.”

Hughes stepped forward slowly, one hand raised. “We do not need this to become worse than it already is.”

Ray shot him a look. “We really do.”

Hughes ignored her. His gaze stayed on the twins. “You have our friends. We want them returned safely. Tell us what you want, and perhaps we can find a way to resolve this.”

Sweet Fluff tilted her head.

Sour Puff tilted hers the opposite way.

Together, they smiled.

“Old man speaks with careful tongue,”
“as if the games have not begun.”

Pitch muttered, “Well, that’s creepy.”

Arcade lifted his device, eyes scanning the room. “Strings above. Gas vents below. Mana interference everywhere.” His mouth tightened. “This place is one bad decision wearing glitter.”

Lumina cried out suddenly.

“Celeste!”

The stage lights snapped upward.

Celeste and Mezzo jerked into view.

They hung above the stage, held upright by thin sugar-bright strings tied to their wrists, ankles, shoulders, and throats. Celeste’s face was pale, tear-streaked, her body pulled into a stiff little pose she clearly hadn’t chosen. Mezzo was beside her, jaw clenched so hard it trembled, still trying to fight the strings despite how tightly they held him.

“Don’t come in!” Celeste shouted.

Her voice cracked with panic.

The strings yanked.

Her arm flew upward in a bright, puppet-like wave.

Mezzo’s arm did the same.

Both of them smiled.

Not because they wanted to.

Because the strings made them.

Ray’s face went murderous.

The twins clapped.

Sweet Fluff’s pigtails bounced. Sour Puff’s sagged and swayed.

“Welcome friends, both big and small,”
“welcome kindly, one and all.”

Celeste’s mouth moved against her will.

“Welcome,” she said, voice shaking beneath the forced cheer.

Mezzo’s head snapped toward the group.

“To the show,” he said through gritted teeth.

Pitch’s expression darkened. “Oh, I do not like that.”

Ray took one step forward.

The floor beneath her boot squelched.

“Enough.”

Heartbreaker flared.

“I don’t care what candyfloss nightmare spat you two out. You cut those strings now, or I’ll turn this whole restaurant into jam.”

Sweet Fluff gasped, delighted. “Jam!”

Sour Puff sighed. “Threats.”

Sweet Fluff spun, her arm stretching into a long pink ribbon that looped around one of the stage curtains.

“Fox with fire, fox with bite…”

Sour Puff’s blue arm stretched to match, curling around the opposite curtain.

“Still too slow to stop the night.”

Ray bared her teeth. “Try me.”

Hughes snapped, “Ray, wait—”

Too late.

Ray lunged.

Heartbreaker came down in a brutal arc, purple flame ripping through the air toward the stage.

The twins laughed.

Not separately.

Together.

High, bright, sugary.

Celeste and Mezzo jerked hard.

Their strings dragged them forward like shields.

Ray twisted at the last second, slamming Heartbreaker into the floor instead of them. The shockwave cracked tile and blasted candy floss outward, but Celeste still cried out as the strings snapped her sideways.

Mezzo swore. “Careful!”

Ray froze, horror flashing over her face.

Sweet Fluff wagged one stretchy finger. “Naughty fox must learn to see…”

Sour Puff finished, “Strings make friends our property.”

Arcade gritted his teeth. “They’re using them as puppets.”

“No kidding,” Ray snarled.

Chip’s optic flickered nervously. “Additional problem: floor vents opening.”

Arcade looked down.

Tiny flower-shaped vents were blooming open between the tiles.

Pink mist seeped upward.

Carys saw it too. “Gas!”

Hughes grabbed Lumina and pulled her back. “Everyone out!”

The doors slammed shut.

Hard.

The sound echoed through the restaurant like a final bell.

Lumina screamed.

Skye flinched against Arcade.

Pitch fired Lady Luck at the nearest door hinge.

The shot hit.

Sugar-webbing flashed across the door and swallowed the impact whole.

“Fantastic,” Pitch muttered. “The doors are also awful.”

The mist thickened.

Not smoke.

Candy floss gas.

It rolled along the floor in pink and blue clouds, soft and sweet-smelling, filling the air with the scent of spun sugar and sleep.

Ray swung Heartbreaker, trying to burn it away. Purple flame tore a clear path for half a second before the gas folded back in.

Arcade shoved his sleeve over his mouth. “Don’t breathe it in!”

“Bit late!” Pitch coughed.

Carys held Lumina’s face against her coat. “Cover your mouth!”

Lumina sobbed into the fabric. “Celeste!”

Celeste fought the strings with everything she had.

Her wrists trembled. Her fingers curled. Her teeth clenched as she tried to force even one tiny warning through her mouth.

But Sweet Fluff’s pink floss pigtail flicked upward.

The strings pulled.

Celeste’s head tilted.

Her arm swept out in a graceful presenter’s gesture.

“Please,” Celeste whispered under her breath.

But her body bowed.

Mezzo was forced to bow beside her, face twisted with fury and fear.

The twins sang:

“Down they drift and down they dream,
caught inside the sugar steam.”

“One by one the heroes fall,
soft as floss and sweet as all.”

Ray staggered first.

She dropped to one knee, Heartbreaker’s flame sputtering.

“Bloody… little…”

Her eyes rolled.

She collapsed onto her side.

Hughes tried to reach her but stumbled, one hand pressed against the table. His knees buckled.

Pitch caught him.

Then Pitch’s own grin went slack.

“Oh,” he mumbled. “That’s… not ideal.”

He dropped beside Hughes.

Carys fought hardest because Lumina was in her arms.

She made it three steps toward the door before her legs gave out. She twisted as she fell, shielding Lumina with her body. Lumina’s hand reached toward Celeste one last time.

Then both went still.

Arcade backed against a table, dragging Skye with him.

“Stay awake,” he rasped.

Skye’s eyes fluttered. “Trying.”

Arcade fumbled with his device, thumb shaking over the switch.

Sweet Fluff’s arm stretched across the room.

Gently, almost playfully, she plucked the device from his hand.

“Clever paws should take a rest.”

Sour Puff tucked it into her candy-floss dress.

“Sleepy minds perform the best.”

Arcade swayed.

He looked up at Celeste.

For one second, his expression cracked.

Sorry, it seemed to say.

Then he fell, pulling Skye down with him and wrapping one arm around the boy even as the gas took them both.

Silence settled.

Only the music-box tune remained.

Celeste stared at the fallen group below, horror burning through her chest.

“No,” she whispered.

Mezzo’s breathing shook beside her.

The twins giggled.

Sweet Fluff bounced on her toes. “All our guests are tucked in tight!”

Sour Puff sighed happily. “Ready for the second night.”

The strings pulled Celeste and Mezzo back to centre stage.

Their arms lifted.

Their heads bowed.

Their mouths moved.

“Thank you for coming,” Celeste said, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“We hope you enjoy the show,” Mezzo forced out, voice breaking with rage.

The candy-floss gas faded slowly.

Not all at once.

It thinned in lazy pink and blue ribbons, curling upward toward the ceiling like smoke from a birthday candle. The music-box tune still played somewhere in the walls, slow and sweet and poisonous.

One by one, the team began to stir.

Ray woke first.

Her head throbbed. Her mouth tasted like sugar and sleep. She tried to sit up, but something soft rustled around her body.

She looked down.

For one long, horrible second, she simply stared.

She was wearing a onesie.

A bugfox onesie.

Orange and white, with tiny stitched wings, six little decorative legs along the sides, and a hood with floppy bug antennae.

Ray’s face went completely blank.

“No,” she said.

Across the room, Pitch groaned and rolled onto his side. He was dressed in a bugwolf onesie, grey and dark blue, with little fuzzy mandibles sewn around the hood. Hughes lay nearby in a buggoat onesie with curled antennae and little padded horns. Lumina wore a bugcat outfit almost like Celeste’s had been, pale yellow with tiny wings, while Skye was in a smaller bugfox onesie, the hood half-covering his face.

Carys was the only one not dressed up.

She was tied to a candy-floss chair near the stage, wrists and ankles bound in thick ropes of spun sugar. Her hair was mussed, but her eyes were sharp and furious.

“I am going to murder someone,” Carys said flatly.

Pitch blinked down at himself. “I look like a children’s sleepover had a nervous breakdown.”

Hughes sat up slowly, taking in his buggoat sleeves with an expression of ancient exhaustion. “I am too old for this.”

“Everyone is too old for this,” Ray snapped.

The room around them was a galaxy-themed playroom, larger than the first one, full of oversized toys and candy-bright decorations. Huge plush planets hung from the ceiling. Foam stars covered the floor. There were giant building blocks, toy rocket ships, moon-shaped cushions, and shelves of glittering jars filled with sweets.

At the far end stood Sweet Fluff and Sour Puff.

Sweet Fluff bounced on her toes, pink candy-floss pigtails bobbing happily around her mouse ears. Sour Puff slouched beside her in blue candy-floss folds, looking deeply disappointed to still exist.

Both wore puffy candy-floss dresses.

Both smiled.

One joyfully.

One miserably.

Together, they sang:

“Sleepy guests with sleepy heads,
woken now from sugar beds.”

“Want your friend to stay alive?
Play our games and she’ll survive.”

Carys’s ears flattened. “Excuse me?”

Sweet Fluff pointed at her with a stretchy pink arm. “Win the game and she stays sweet!”

Sour Puff’s blue arm stretched too, long and lazy, curling around Carys’s chair. “Lose the game and she will eat.”

Lumina went pale. “Eat?”

Sour Puff sighed. “Zombies do that.”

Sweet Fluff giggled. “It’s very rude.”

Ray surged to her feet. “You touch her and I’ll rip the fluff out of your skulls.”

Sweet Fluff gasped happily. “Threats again!”

Sour Puff nodded, mournful. “She has no manners.”

Ray’s eyes flashed toward the stage. “Where are Celeste and Mezzo?”

The lights snapped upward.

Celeste and Mezzo hung above the stage, held upright by sugar-bright strings tied to their wrists, ankles, shoulders, and throats. They were back in their little show positions, both pale, both exhausted, both fighting the strings in tiny useless movements.

Celeste’s eyes widened when she saw the others awake.

“Ray—”

The strings tugged.

Her arm rose in a cheerful wave.

Mezzo’s head jerked up beside her, his grin forced so sharply it looked painful.

Sweet Fluff clapped.

“Kitty bright and puppy loud…”

Sour Puff finished, “Part of show and part of crowd.”

Ray’s hands curled into fists. “Let. Them. Down.”

Celeste’s mouth moved before she could stop it.

“We’re part of the show,” she said, voice trembling.

Mezzo’s jaw clenched.

“And we must stay until the grand finale,” he forced out.

Hughes slowly rose, eyes locked on the twins. “What is the grand finale?”

For one second, Mezzo’s face twisted with panic.

Then the strings pulled tighter.

His head tilted. His smile widened.

“The best part of the show,” he said brightly.

Ray’s blood went cold.

Pitch muttered, “I hate every word in that sentence.”