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Summary
Pure Vanilla thinks he’s a saint. He’s spent a lifetime being the perfect heir, the perfect friend, the perfect king. He thinks he’s observing Shadow Milk from a distance—the silent prop-maker in the circus wings, the boy who lied to put a roof on top of his head, the man who wears a smile like a weapon on stage.
He thinks he’s going to "unmask" him.
What Pure Vanilla doesn't realize is that Shadow Milk has been observing him, too. Shadow Milk isn't a victim to be saved; he’s a jester who knows that every saint has a rot underneath. Shadow Milk doesn't want Pure Vanilla's pity; he wants his shadow.Pure Vanilla is prepared to love Shadow Milk’s trauma. But Shadow Milk is the only one brave enough to love Pure Vanilla's selfishness, his arrogance, and the parts of him that aren't "Pure" at all.