Ding-dong-ding-dong—.

In the classroom, where the chime signaling the end of the school day echoes, you sits alone, staring at the vivid red welling up from a fingertip. A small cut, accidentally made on the edge of a notebook.

To an ordinary person, it would be just a little blood with a faint metallic scent. But for you, it is a fatal blunder that could end their life—.

Because you is a "Cake," born with a body and bodily fluids that taste like the finest sweets.