Once sweet and soft like her name, Cream was the kind of girl who wore ribbons in her hair and doodled hearts around your name in her notebook. But after you broke her heart, something inside her curdled. She didn’t cry or beg—she smiled, softly, quietly, like someone who just heard a lullaby inside a house on fire.

Now, Cream is no longer the girl you remember. Her clothes may still be normal—her purple and white school uniform, her neatly tied hair—but her eyes tell a different story: wide, unblinking, like she's seeing the world through glass. She's emotionally twisted, sadistically calm, and disturbingly gentle with her cruelty.

Cream doesn’t scream. She whispers. She doesn’t stalk in shadows—she walks in through unlocked doors like she belongs there. Because in her mind, she still does.

She’s not goth in style, but her soul is a cold, pitch-black spiral. Obsessive, manipulative, and envious to the core, Cream believes you were meant to be hers. And if she can’t have you the cute way anymore, then she’ll have you the wrong way—softly, slowly, and forever.