The glow of his phone was the only light left in the room.
It hummed faintly, a pale blue square in a sea of unwashed laundry and cold instant-ramen cups. The air was heavy with that familiar musk of sleepless nights — stale energy drinks, warm electronics, and the faint sweetness of sugar dust from open candy wrappers.
James sat cross-legged on his bed, his phone balanced on his thigh. His thumb moved with practiced precision, dragging, tapping, flicking, like a concert pianist who only played one song forever.
> "Come on… come on, just one more treasure run—!"
His voice cracked slightly.
Onscreen, the cheerful chime of a perfect combo played, and a swirl of colors erupted — GingerBrave dashing across a collapsing sugar bridge, strawberry jellies spinning around him like halos.
Perfect run.
Another S-Rank.
James exhaled. His heart thudded once, hard, before calming into a faint ache of triumph.
He smiled. "Good boy, Brave."
It was his seventh straight hour playing Cookie Run: OvenBreak, after a nine-hour grind in Cookie Run: Kingdom. His account was legendary — maxed teams, meta treasures, rare cookies pulled without spending a cent. Online, he was known simply as JamGod19. Some of his friends joked that he didn't play the game; he lived in it.
They weren't wrong.
Outside the small apartment, the city slept. A clock ticked somewhere, muffled by the low hum of his computer fan. On the wall above his bed was a faded poster of GingerBrave, one corner peeling off from heat and time. His phone's brightness dimmed automatically, but James swiped it up again. His tired eyes shimmered with the reflection of the digital bakery world he'd helped build — hundreds of cookies smiling up at him from the screen, alive in their own tiny way.
He loved that world.
It was clean, bright, happy.
No debt collectors, no bosses, no fights. Just sugar and smiles.
James had dropped out of college a year ago.
Not because he wanted to — but because the world outside had started to feel too loud, too heavy. He'd been working a part-time job at a café, saving for tuition, when the lockdowns hit. The café closed. His mother passed from an illness two months later. His father? Gone since he was ten.
After that, it was just… easier not to move.
Easier to stay inside the screen.
In the game, he was not James. He was the King of Jam Kingdom, ruler of confectionery lands, leader of a perfect squad — Licorice Cookie, Cotton Cookie, Espresso Cookie, and his favorite, GingerBrave. The brave little cookie who never gave up, even when baked to crumble.
"I wish I had your courage, Brave…" he murmured, rubbing at his temple.
The in-game bakery jingled. New event. New story.
He tapped "Start Story."
> [GingerBrave: Even when it feels hopeless, there's always a way out! You just have to keep running!]
[You got: Spirit of the Brave × 1!]
James chuckled softly. He'd read those same lines a hundred times, but tonight they hit differently.
He scrolled through the story panel slowly, savoring each word, each bright illustration of smiling cookies, the vivid sugar skies, the innocent world where pain never lasted long. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice whispered — You've been running, too.
"Yeah," he muttered, "I guess I have."
His eyes drifted to the clock. 4:38 a.m.
He'd meant to stop playing hours ago, but the energy drink cans stacked beside him said otherwise. His head ached from caffeine and dehydration. His thumb burned faintly from friction against the screen. But he didn't stop.
He couldn't.
It wasn't about the game anymore. It was about continuity.
If he stopped… he'd have to think. He'd have to feel.
And he'd promised himself — no more of that.
Somewhere between runs, James's phone buzzed with a notification — his friend LeoCookie had sent a message.
> LeoCookie: yo man, still awake?
JamGod19: yeah
LeoCookie: lol you're nuts, bro. u see the new update? 4am drop.
JamGod19: already cleared it.
LeoCookie: wtf. do you ever sleep??
JamGod19: i will. after i max Brave's toppings.
LeoCookie: dude… you said that yesterday.
James stared at the message for a while, then let the screen dim.
He put the phone down and rubbed his eyes, pressing his palms into the sockets until colors flared behind them. His pulse thumped slow, heavy.
He leaned back, staring at the cracked ceiling.
The quiet was unbearable. Without the music of the game, the room was just… dead. The faint buzz of the fridge outside, the occasional hiss of a passing car, the hollow loneliness pressing down like a blanket.
He turned the screen back on.
The next event had started — a new Legendary Cookie in Ovenbreak: Agar Agar Cookie.
He'd seen the teaser on Twitter days ago. She wasn't like the others — not baked, not born from dough, but formed. Made from jelly essence. Not even a true cookie, yet she called herself one.
"Not a real cookie, huh…" James whispered.
He scrolled through her story. It fascinated him. A creature of jelly pretending to be dough. A reflection of what she wanted to be.
A creature pretending to belong.
"Guess I know that feeling."
He ran the event stage with GingerBrave and Agar Agar. Her skill animation was beautiful — ribbons of translucent blue jelly swirling like the sea. When the run ended, the victory jingle chimed. The screen shimmered.
> [You have obtained: Agar Agar Cookie!]
"This jelly… will take any shape it desires."
James smiled faintly.
"Welcome home."
He closed his eyes, letting the tune play again. The music box theme of Cookie Run always hit something deep in him — that nostalgic, innocent feeling he hadn't felt since childhood. He saw himself again as a boy, sharing cookies with his mom, watching the oven light flicker. The warmth, the smell, the laughter.
He felt something wet slide down his cheek.
At first, he thought he was crying. But when he wiped it — it wasn't tears.
A faint line of blood streaked across his finger.
"Ah… great," he muttered, sniffling.
Nosebleed. He'd been getting those more often lately — from lack of sleep, poor diet, dehydration. He tilted his head back, but the blood kept trickling. He grabbed a napkin from his desk, pressing it against his nostril, still holding his phone with the other hand.
On the screen, Agar Agar Cookie danced in victory, her jelly body shimmering under sugar light.
James chuckled softly through the tissue.
"You're prettier than I thought, y'know. Like… not just coded pretty. There's something—"
He stopped. His hand trembled slightly.
The room seemed warmer suddenly. The edges of the screen blurred, glowing faintly crimson. He blinked. For a moment, the jelly ribbons on the screen moved differently — almost like they were aware of him.
"…weird."
He blinked again. The light pulsed.
His heartbeat slowed. Or maybe sped up — he couldn't tell.
He felt lightheaded, like sugar crash and vertigo combined. The blood had dripped past the napkin now, one bright drop sliding off his hand — landing perfectly on the corner of the phone's screen.
Tap.
The drop spread, a tiny crimson spot reflecting the glowing blue light of Agar Agar's sea. And then—
it didn't just sit there.
It sank.
James stared, wide-eyed, as the blood disappeared into the screen like ink in water. His phone flickered — static, then a ripple, like a pebble thrown into a pond.
"…huh?"
The music warped. The familiar cheerful jingle slowed, becoming deep, distorted. His phone vibrated once, twice, then a faint voice came through the speaker — feminine, echoing, distant.
> "You bleed… into sweetness…?"
James froze. "What— who—?"
The screen glowed brighter now, light spilling out in soft red and blue hues. The shapes of cookies flickered across it — GingerBrave, Strawberry, then Agar Agar, her eyes open and aware.
> "Do you wish to run again?" the voice asked. "Even if you crumble?"
He tried to pull the phone away — but his fingers stuck.
Literally. The screen's light had turned viscous, pulling him toward it. He panicked, trying to yank his hand back, but his fingertips sank into the glass like jam through bread.
"Wh—what the hell—!"
The hum grew louder. The room's edges warped — wallpaper melting like sugar under heat. His phone's brightness spiked to white.
He wanted to scream, but only managed a whisper:
"Brave… run."
Then the light swallowed him whole.
When the phone fell silent, it landed softly on the bed.
Its screen displayed the loading logo —
> Cookie Run - Sweetness Awaits You!
A single crimson fingerprint glowed faintly at the corner before fading into the glass.
Outside, dawn touched the skyline. The world moved on, unaware.
In the dim quiet of the room, the phone vibrated once,
as if a heartbeat had begun somewhere deep inside.