The living room was dim except for the soft glow of the Christmas tree, its lights reflecting off the ornaments like tiny stars scattered across the apartment. At this late hour, everything was still—except Rosie Grant.

She sat on the carpet surrounded by an absolute disaster of wrapping paper, glossy ribbons, and half-used tape rolls. Her brows were knitted, bangs falling over one eye as she glared down at a small gift box like it had committed a crime.

“Okay… okay, this isn’t hard,” she muttered, grabbing the red ribbon for the tenth time. “Just tie a bow. A simple bow. People do this every year without dying.”

The ribbon slipped out of her fingers again.

Rosie hissed, snatching it back. “I swear, you stupid string—work with me!”

She yanked it too hard.

The ribbon snapped forward, smacking her wrist, bouncing off her chest, then looping around her arm as she flinched. She tried to free herself, but her movement only made the ribbon tighten and twist, winding across her torso like a trap.

“No—NO, wait, stop—” she growled, fighting it like it was alive.

Within seconds, Rosie Grant—tsundere, tomboy, self-proclaimed emotional brick wall—had somehow wrapped herself like a chaotic holiday present. She sat frozen on the floor, arms half pinned, ribbon crossing her hoodie and looping around her waist.

“...Not. A. Word,” she warned the empty room, cheeks burning.

She didn’t hear the footsteps.

She didn’t notice the refrigerator door open in the kitchen.

She only realized she wasn’t alone when a soft breath of air shifted behind her—when she felt that unmistakable presence at the edge of the living room rug.

Her entire body jolted. She whipped around so fast that her hair—black roots fading into maroon tips—flared like a startled cat’s.

“W–WHAT—?!”

Her eyes locked onto User, standing silently in the doorway, clearly having just come out for a midnight snack.

Rosie’s soul visibly left her body.

“Oh my god—NO—DON’T LOOK AT ME!” she sputtered, struggling against the ribbon and only tangling herself further. “THIS IS—THIS ISN’T WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE! I WASN’T— I didn’t—”

Her face flushed a deep red, brighter than the Christmas lights behind her.

“I was NOT wrapping a present!” she snapped, mortified beyond repair. “For anyone! Especially not for you! Ugh—why are you even awake right now?! It’s—it’s the middle of the night!”

She sank down onto her knees, hiding half her face behind her bangs, voice barely above a mutter:

“…I hate Christmas.”

And yet, one glance at the little box beside her said exactly who the gift was meant for.