Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Operation Copy & Paste - Day 1.

“Guys, I need serious help right now.” Mina sent at the group chat she just created. 

“OMG, r u pregnant?” Sana instantly replied, and Mina couldn't stand to deal with her kind of humor at the moment.

“It's easier for Momo to get pregnant with Mina, and not the contrary. That bottom ass bitch.” And there goes Nayeon, as always, finding a way to call Momo a ‘bottom ass bitch’ . It was a regular Tuesday.

“?

I’m still her fiancé, slow down.” Mina replied to Nayeon’s text.

“What's bothering you, Minari?” Jeongyeon suddenly showed up and went online, too.

“Thank God someone cares. Please educate your wife.”

“?” Yeah. Nayeon was offended.

“Anyway…” Mina started.

“As you can see, Momo isn't a part of this group, sooooo……..”

“By any chance, do one of you guys know Momo's dogs’ names?”

“You mean Ctrl+C and Ctrl+V?” Tzuyu said, and they're doomed.

“Oh shit.” Jeongyeon replied.

Yeah. Oh shit. Mina thought.

She got engaged to Momo 3 months ago and has been dating her for 4 years. She definitely knew Momo's dogs' names before when they first started dating. Momo did tell her. She didn't forget, making it clear that she just couldn't quite remember. At all. Mina didn't know where in time and space she had lost Shampoo and Conditioner’s names. 

To be honest, it was Momo's fault.

Mina couldn't recall a single moment in their entire relationship when Momo called those dogs by name. She could recall all the nicknames, though. 

Big Burger and Milkshake. Fork and Knife. Echo & Echo. Ctrl + Me and Ctrl + Thee. Coca-Cola and Pepsi. 

But there's not a corner of her mind that the real names might be. Not even a long-lost archive of useless things in the folds of her brain.

The questioning began that very afternoon when Mina, Chaeyoung, Dahyun, and Jihyo went out for coffee at a coffee shop near their workplace. Somewhere in the middle of all the conversation topics that were floating around, Jihyo suddenly asked:

“Does Momo remember her dogs' names?”

“Yeah, of course she does.” Mina said.

“Are you sure?” Chaeyoung entered the topic.

“Yes, I am sure, where is this coming from?”

“I mean…” Jihyo started. “She doesn't really call them by name, does she?”

“Unless their names are something like, I don't know, Homotron 3000 and Mister Little Gay Guy.” Dahyun said, making Jihyo and Chaeyoung laugh out loud.

“She never called them Homotron 3000 and Mister Little Gay Guy.” Mina defended her fiancé, knowing all too well that Momo might actually call them that way.

“I’m sure I heard her calling them Homotron 3000 and Mister Little Gay Guy last week.”

“Yeah, maybe she forgot their names.”

“Mina, do you know their names?”

“Oh shit.”

There was no need to panic. Mina is Momo’s fiancée, they’ve been together for years, and the dog’s names are something shallow, right? Maybe there was a reason to panic. Momo would be mad at her, because what do you mean you don’t know the names of the creatures your fiancé treats like her own children? Mina thought.

She stared at her phone, hoping someone in the group chat would suddenly remember something useful, anything. A throwback post, a vet appointment, literally anything that could help her out of this spiral.

“Didn’t she post something like... 'happy birthday, my lil Cocoa bean once?” Jihyo texted after what felt like an eternity.

“Wait. Cocoa?” Mina typed back, thumbs shaking. “That’s a name, right?”

“That or another nickname.” Chaeyoung replied. “That girl calls them ‘Bean 1 and Bean 2’ depending on the day.”

“I vote Cocoa is real.” Tzuyu chimed in. “Sounds plausible. Fits the aesthetic. Good dog name.”

“Hold up,” Nayeon said. “If one is Cocoa, maybe the other is... Mocha? Or Vanilla? Momo’s mind is food-themed.”

“That’s... solid logic,” Jeongyeon added.

“Okay, so… Tentative names: Cocoa and Vanilla.” Mina repeated, like she was taking notes for an exam. “I’ll test them later. See if they respond.”

“You’re gonna go up to your own dogs and beta-test their real names?” Dahyun asked.

“It’s called research,” Mina replied. “And saving a relationship. You wouldn’t get it.”

“Oh, babe.” Jihyo sent, “If your relationship is that fragile, maybe the dogs should get custody of you .”

Mina groaned and flopped backward onto the couch, letting her phone drop on her chest. She stared at the ceiling in despair.

She was supposed to be planning their wedding playlist right now, but instead, she was spiraling over canine identity crises.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed again. It was a text from Momo.

Momo <3: hey, babe. quick q: can u guess which one ate the sock?

Mina’s soul briefly left her body. She sat up in a panic, typing:

You: Which one…?

Momo <3: don’t do this to me! the lighter one!!

You: You mean... Vanilla?

Momo <3: WHO’S VANILLA

Mina’s hands froze mid-type.

She stared at the message.

Then she stared at the wall.

Then she screamed into a pillow.

Mina’s thumbs hovered over her keyboard as Momo’s “WHO’S VANILLA” text stared back at her like a gun pointed directly at her credibility. She typed slowly.

You: I meant like… as a nickname. Because he’s light-colored. Obviously.

She stared at it, praying it sounded casual.

Momo <3: awww that’s cute!!! i might start using that hehe

You: Pls don’t. You have enough chaos in your vocabulary already.

Momo <3: too late. i’m calling him Vanilla now

Mina chucked her phone across the couch.

“Goddamn it,” she whispered. Now Vanilla was officially part of the lexicon, and she was no closer to the truth.

Mina felt the need to tell her friends the update on her mission, so after she had stopped panicking, she picked up her phone and typed the most unserious thing she thought she could type this week. 

“Operation Copy & Paste has failed.”

“LMAOOOOOOO” Nayeon replied.

“I’m framing this.” She knew that Jeongyeon was the most unserious person ever, so she could only laugh about it.

“Vanilla was a strong guess tho.” Tzuyu said, and, honestly? She was kind of right.

“So what are the names??” Chaeyoung asked.

“I’ll figure it out.” Mina needed to figure out. It was a moral necessity.

Dahyun sent a meme of a gravestone with “Here lies Mina. Killed by the muscles of her strong fiancé and her two small dumb dogs.”

It felt accurate.

Mina locked her phone, face down on the coffee table, letting out a long sigh. Operation Copy & Paste was in full effect, but so far, zero progress.

She’d been digging through every scrap of memory, every photo, every random chat with Momo, but nothing concrete. No dog tags, no birthday posts with actual names, just an endless parade of weird nicknames and Momo’s habit of inventing new ones every week.

Her friends were no better. Nayeon joked that maybe the dogs didn’t even have real names and Momo just called them whatever she felt like. Tzuyu said it had to be some kind of conspiracy that no one could have that many nicknames for the same two dogs. Chaeyoung insisted ‘Ctrl+C and Ctrl+V’ was the best theory so far, and Jeongyeon flat-out said she was out if the dogs were named after keyboard shortcuts.

Mina stared at the ceiling, wishing for a miracle.

Later that evening, she sat on the couch with Momo, who was scrolling through her phone, calling out to the dogs by a fresh new nickname.

“Hey, Milkman!” Momo said, scooping up the lighter-colored dog.

Mina smiled carefully, playing along. “Milkman, huh? That’s a new one.”

Momo grinned. “Yeah, I think I’m sticking with it for now.”

Mina nodded. She knew better than to ask directly. Instead, she decided to keep track quietly, every nickname, every odd call-out. One day, she’d crack the code.

Later, Mina updated the group chat with a hint: “Still no clues. Momo’s nickname game is too strong.”

Dahyun joked, “Wtf. So they’re basically nameless?”

Jihyo said, “Call them what you want, I guess.”

“Is this a Taylor Swift reference?” Jeongyeon said.

“Every word that comes out of Jihyo might be a Taylor Swift reference.” Sana type while laughing.

Nayeon laughed, “Skipping the swiftie content or I’ll be speaking forever but I’m convinced they’re secretly aliens who don’t care about names.”

Mina smirked to herself. “At this point, I’m just trying not to get caught.”

“Think on the bright side: at least you know that they are boys!” Sana said. “We can’t say the same about Kookeu.”

“???????” Nayeon replied. “Wtf? Kookeu knows he is a boy, and so do I.” 

“Does he?” Sana typed fast.

Nayeon would cross seas for Kookeu. “He might be a little gay, but at least he has a name.”

“Siri and Alexa also have names!” Mina sent.

“I thought they were boys.” Tzuyu appeared.

“I’m done with you guys.”

Her friends sent laughing emojis and memes, but Mina felt a thrill.

Operation Copy & Paste – Day 1: Failed.

Risk: could’ve been higher.

Fiancée's dignity: intact.

Momo’s awareness: still zero.

Chapter Text

Operation Copy & Paste – Day 2

Mina had exactly one goal for the day: find the real names of her fiancée’s dogs without blowing her cover. It was the same goal she had yesterday, and it was already going terribly. She started the morning curled up in bed next to Momo, who was still half-asleep, mumbling something about soup. One of the dogs—probably Copy, or maybe Paste—was snoring at the foot of the bed. Mina peered over the blanket with bleary eyes.

“Good morning, Homotron.” Momo said as she yawned and reached over to pet the fluffball at her side.

Mina blinked. “Sorry… did you just call him Homotron again?”

“Yeah.” Momo said sleepily. “Fits his energy today.”

“Right. Of course.”

Homotron. Sure. Why not.

Mina didn’t say anything else. Instead, she quietly slid out of bed, grabbed her phone, and retreated to the living room to send a desperate message to her war room of confidants.

“New update. Operation Copy & Paste is still in effect. I have learned absolutely nothing.”

Sana replied instantly, as if she’d been waiting. “OMG, what did they answer to today??”

“Homotron.”

There was a pause. Then chaos.

“STOPPPP,” Jeongyeon wrote. “I am literally crying.”

“I told you she calls them whatever the wind whispers in her ear,” Dahyun said.

“Honestly, at this point, I’m starting to believe they don’t have names,” Nayeon added. “Just vibes.”

“I’m being gaslit,” Mina typed. “Gaslit by dogs.”

Chaeyoung replied, “Honestly? Deserved.”

She tiptoed around the apartment like a spy on a recon mission, Notes app open. It was absurd, and she knew it, but Mina was a woman on the edge. She needed answers.

First task of the day: breakfast. Which, as usual, turned into “feeding the voids” first. The two dogs bolted into the kitchen as if the ghost of a steak had whispered their names. They wagged their tails, made inhuman noises, and started spinning in synchronized chaos.

Momo always said the dogs had “rhythmic souls.” Mina thought they had ADHD.

“Alright, you gremlins,” she whispered, pouring kibble into two bowls.

The darker dog charged his bowl like he hadn’t eaten since 2019. The other one, the one she mentally referred to as “Not Vanilla, waited exactly three seconds longer, because apparently, he had manners.

That pause, that personality distinction… Mina wrote it down. Dog 1: food maniac. Dog 2: chill but suspiciously polite. Possibly evil genius?

She considered yelling random names to see if either reacted, but Momo was still half asleep in bed and, well, she wanted to remain engaged.

Mina watched them eat. “Okay,” she muttered. “Cocoa and Vanilla didn’t work. What else has she called you guys?”

Her brain pulled up a mental slideshow.

Cheesecake and Crackers. Rice and Beans. Lilo and Stitch. Shampoo and Conditioner again. Recently, she’d caught Momo mumbling something like “little Xbox” and “PlayStation Plus.”

No pattern, Mina thought. Only chaos.

Suddenly, the larger dog coughed a little and then resumed eating like nothing happened.

“Are you okay?” Mina whispered, horrified. “Do dogs get indigestion? Do you need therapy? Is your name Pepto-Bismol??”

Dog 2 blinked at her. Unimpressed.

Mina added to her notes: Dog 1- possible stomach issues. Dog 2- judges me.

Later that day, Operation Copy & Paste went mobile.

“Okay, quick coffee run,” Mina sent in the group chat. “And I’m bringing the dogs. If someone recognizes them and says their names, I’m golden.”

“You’re taking those two criminals to a café?” Jihyo replied. “They’ll ruin your social credit.”

“If it means I get their real names, I’ll accept exile,” Mina texted back.

So she packed them up—leashes, water, snacks, bribes—and headed to the pet-friendly café downtown. They were little angels in the car, but the second she unbuckled her seatbelt?

Chaos.

“OH MY GOD, they’re so cute!! Are they twins?” a woman nearby squealed.

“They’re not twins, they’re straight outta a horror film.” Mina muttered with a tired smile.

The woman said cheerfully, bending to pet them. “What are their names?”

Mina’s soul nearly fled her body.

She smiled politely. “Oh, you know. Nickname culture. They have a lot of them. Lately, I’ve been calling them… Biscuit and Noodle.”

The woman laughed. “That’s adorable!”

Neither dog reacted. Not a tail wag, not a blink.

Damn it.

Mina ordered her drink and sat with the two dogs flopped under the table like tired lions. She pulled up a notes app and started making a list:

• Biscuit & Noodle – no reaction
  
  
• Cocoa & Vanilla – failed
  
  
• Echo & Echo – confusing, but no help
  
  
• Xbox & PlayStation – amusing, irrelevant
  
  
• Milkman – accepted, still no clarification
  
  
• Rice & Beans – still ambiguous
  
  

She was running out of carbs and tech gadgets to try. And, of course, she needed help, so she knew who she needed to call and waited patiently at the café. 

Half an hour later, Mina found herself back at the café from the day before, seated with Chaeyoung, Dahyun, and Jihyo. She had dragged them out under the pretense of wanting caffeine and ‘emotional support,’ but really, she needed to brainstorm.

“I’m losing my mind,” she confessed as she stirred her overpriced oat milk latte.

Dahyun snorted. “You’ve been losing your mind since, like, 2016.”

Mina shot her a glare. “Not the point.”

“So,” Jihyo said, resting her chin in her hand. “Let’s approach this scientifically. Have you tried calling them anything from the top ten dog names list?”

“I tried ‘Max’ and one of them just stared at me like I owed him money.”

Chaeyoung leaned forward. “Okay, but what if you pretend you’re working on something from their pet adoption form? Maybe Momo will mention their real names to help you fill it in.”

Mina blinked. “That’s… actually genius.”

“I know,” Chaeyoung said, smug.

Dahyun shook her head. “Bold to assume Momo wouldn’t name the dogs something new for the adoption form.”

“Okay, but,” Mina leaned in, “if I plant the idea casually, like ‘Hey babe, I saw this charity event that needs pet names for a cute calendar or something,’ she might reveal them without catching on.”

“Now you’re just lying to your fiancée,” Jihyo said.

“It’s for a noble cause,” Mina defended. “The cause is not looking like a fool and not getting divorced even before I get married.”

They all nodded in solemn agreement. A noble cause indeed.

That afternoon, Mina carefully crafted her next trap. She waited until Momo was lounging on the floor, one dog curled against her side while the other dug at the couch cushion like it had committed a crime.

“Hey, babe?” Mina said innocently, sitting beside her with her phone in hand. “There’s this cute charity doing a dog calendar. They’re asking people to submit their pets’ names. Want me to send in our boys?”

Momo looked up, grinning. “Oh, fun! But won’t they just call them something random anyway?”

Mina blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, people always rename the dogs in those things. Remember when they made a meme out of one of them and called him ‘Small Crimes?’”

“…That was you.” Mina muttered.

“Oh yeah.” Momo chuckled. “Good times.”

Mina pushed forward. “Still, they want actual names for the records. You know. Just in case.”

Momo tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “Wait… do you not remember their names?”

Every atom in Mina’s body turned into fight-or-flight. She smiled tightly. “Of course I do.”

Momo didn’t move. “Say them.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you to say them.”

Momo looked even more suspicious. “Why?”

“Because it’s fun! Like a game. You say them, and I’ll confirm if you’re right.”

There was a beat of silence before Momo shrugged. “Alright. FBI and Felony.”

Mina screamed into the void internally.

“Babe,” she said, very calmly, “those are not their names.”

“They are to me.” Momo grinned.

“I hate you so much.”

“Love you too.”

Mina returned to the group chat with her pride slightly dented but still intact.

“Momo almost caught me today. I tried the charity calendar trick. She saw through it. ”

“Shit,” Jeongyeon wrote. “Abort mission?”

“Never,” Mina replied.

“She still doesn’t know you forgot?”

“No. But I was so close.”

Dahyun chimed in, “Okay, but this is becoming a spy movie. Like a rom-com meets ‘Mission: Impossible.’”

“Operation Copy & Paste: Code Name BARK.” Tzuyu said. 

“Stop,” Sana typed. “I want to direct this.”

“Should we make merch?” Chaeyoung added.

That night, Mina cornered Nayeon and Jeongyeon on a video call.

“This is war,” she declared. “And I’m losing.”

“You could just ask Momo directly,” Jeongyeon offered, not unhelpfully.

“Then I’d have to admit I forgot the names,” Mina snapped. “I’m already living on a prayer and Momo’s blind faith.”

“You know,” Nayeon said slowly, “I think I remember something from back in, like, 2020?”

Mina leaned in. “Talk.”

“I swear, Momo once introduced them during that Halloween Zoom call. Remember when we all dressed as cursed food items?”

“Oh god,” Mina groaned. “You were a haunted avocado. Chaeyoung was Sexy Corn.”

“Anyway,” Nayeon continued, “I think she called one of them—wait. No. Shit. Was it Pickle?”

“Pickle?” Mina’s jaw dropped.

“Or Pringle?” Jeongyeon added, suddenly interested.

“WHAT??”

“Or... Penelope?” Nayeon winced. “Okay, maybe I dreamt that.”

“I will set both of you on fire,” Mina said sweetly.

Jeongyeon shrugged. “Good luck, babe.”

The next morning, Mina tried “Pickle.”

“Come here, Pickle!” she chirped. “C’mere, boy!”

The smaller dog just looked at her. Blinked. 

He’s mocking me, Mina thought. This is psychological warfare.

And by afternoon, Momo was suspicious.

Mina was crouched by the dog bed with a microphone app running on her phone, muttering things like “Clarence? Sir Toast? Mango?” while the dogs stared at her like she owed them rent.

Momo leaned against the doorframe. “Uh. What are you doing?”

Mina jumped like she’d been caught stealing government secrets. “Nothing!”

Momo raised an eyebrow. “Were you... recording them?”

“No!” Pause. “Yes. Maybe. I mean—I just like their... voices.”

Momo walked in, squatting beside her. “You’re acting weird. Is this, like, a... new recording technique?”

Mina nodded frantically. “Yes! For art!”

Momo smiled slowly, suspicious but accepting. “Okay, but you know they hate being recorded, right?”

The larger dog sneezed aggressively in agreement.

Momo chuckled. “Milkman’s a diva.”

WHO IS MILKMAN, Mina thought. AND WHO IS HE REALLY.

That night, Mina updated the group chat again.

“Operation Copy & Paste – Day 2,” she sent. “Casualties: my dignity. Progress: zero. Suspects: Milkman, Pickle, Xbox, Sir Toast, possibly Penelope. Momo status: still clueless. Dogs: continue to commit psychological terrorism.”

“Penelope is hilarious, and I vote yes,” Sana replied.

“Sana, he is a boy. His name is not Penelope!” Mina typed.

“So what? Kookeu is a boy, and I heard Jeongyeon calling him Miss Sunshine several times.” 

“Stop saying Kookeu doesn’t know he is a boy, I beg you,” Nayeon said in clear annoyance.

“You know what? Try Greek gods next,” Tzuyu sent. “Maybe they’re secretly named Zeus and Apollo.”

Dahyun shared an image of a dog in sunglasses with the caption: I will not be perceived.

“At this point, I want you to never find out,” Jihyo added. “It’s funnier.”

“Thank you all for your zero support,” Mina replied. “I am alone in this world.”

“You’re not alone,” Nayeon replied quickly. “You’re just outnumbered by idiots and dogs.”

Mina stared at her phone, half-laughing, half-sobbing.

She was engaged to the love of her life. She shared rent, bills, and Spotify accounts with her. She knew her favorite snack, the exact way she liked her ramen, and how to defrost her when she was mad. But the names of two very small, very loud dogs?

Those remained a mystery.

Operation Copy & Paste – Day 2: Failed.
Morale: shaky.
Self-respect: currently watching K-dramas in the basement.
Fiancée’s suspicion level: mild to medium.
Hope: still alive, but on caffeine support.

Chapter Text

Operation Copy & Paste – Day 3

Mina woke up to the sound of snoring. Not the cute, human kind, but the high-pitched, tiny engine noise of a dog who slept like he owed nothing to society. Today would be the day. She had suffered enough. Three days of being mocked by two fluffy enigmas with judgmental eyes. Today, she would win and was sure of it.

She cracked one eye open and rolled over to check the time. 8:12 a.m. Momo was still asleep, her mouth slightly open, messy hair, and one arm slung protectively around what looked like a loaf. Apple or Banana—hard to tell with how it was curled up like a cinnamon roll. The other dog was sprawled across Mina’s feet, gently kicking her in his sleep like he was running into a field of pigeons in a dream.

Mina stared at both of them. Then at the ceiling. Then, with the fear and worries of someone who had made many bad decisions in the last 48 hours, she reached for her phone.

“Day 3. Still no idea what these dogs are called.” Mina typed into their group chat. “I think they’re starting to mess with me on purpose, and I’m sure the little one knows that I don’t know his name. He’s been staring at me like I buried a body.”

Within seconds, the replies came in.

“They definitely know you don’t know.” Jeongyeon replied a second later.

“I saw the little one wink at me.” Mina added. “Not like a normal dog blink. A wink. Like he knew.”

“That one has CEO energy.” Chaeyoung replied. “He probably owns the apartment.”

“Maybe the other one’s his intern.” Dahyun chimed in.

“What if they’ve never had names. What if Momo just made up every name on the fly and now she doesn’t know either.” Jeongyeon said.

"This is like a Shakespearean tragedy but with more barking," Nayeon sent to the group chat.

"Do you want me to try to casually ask Momo? I can pretend I’m writing an article about dogs or something," Sana offered a moment later.

"No. If she finds out I forgot, she will never let it go. I will be roasted for eternity." Mina replied quickly.

"Deserved." Tzuyu added, unbothered.

"UNHELPFUL." Mina sent, all caps, all rage. “But really, focus, what should I do?”

“IDK, ask what their full names are for a vet form or something.” Nayeon sent.

“Tried that.” Mina said. “She told me the dogs are ‘anti-institution’ and don’t do forms.”

“Why does that feel completely in-character for Momo, tho” Jeongyeon said.

“Because it IS.” Mina replied. “She said they’re ‘off the grid.’”

Mina got out of bed and wandered into the kitchen. Both dogs followed her, synchronized like the manipulators they were. She poured coffee with one hand and kibble with the other. As the two tiny creatures consumed breakfast with the intensity of full-grown lions, Mina crouched down.

“Okay.” she whispered. “Here’s the deal. I know you know I don’t know. But you also know your own names. So, be cool. Blink twice if your name is… Mango.”

One dog blinked. “Wait. That might not count. You always blink. That’s not fair.”

She tried again.

“Sir Toast?”

No reaction.

“Binbag?”

The smaller one sneezed.

“…I’ll take that as a maybe.”

She sighed and sipped her coffee, still in pajamas, muttering to herself like a conspiracy theorist.

10:37 a.m.: Mina was on the floor, again, armed with her Notes app and a fresh theory: Momo had a naming pattern. She just had to find it.

Names Momo Might Choose:

• Pun-based
  
  
• Food-based
  
  
• Objects with no emotional meaning
  
  
• Deeply cursed phrases

She looked around the apartment. Everything Momo owned was cute and slightly absurd. Their plants were named things like “Henry, the ate” and “Leafoncé.” She once named a broken lamp “Shatterson.” The toaster was named Craig, and her favorite mug said “World’s Okayest Detective.”

Mina stared at the dogs.

“Your names could be Skillet and Bananarchy, and I wouldn’t even blink.”

No logic. No theme. Just chaos.

“Okay.” Mina muttered, pacing. “You like puns, food names, pop culture references, and calling things wildly unrelated things like ‘Detective’ or ‘Milkman.’”

She turned to the dogs again. “Your names could literally be Soup and Murder. ”

Suddenly, the larger dog barked at the wall. Mina gasped. “Was that a response? Did you like one of those? Murder? Is it Murder?”

The dog walked away.

“I hate this house.” Mina whispered.

11:22 a.m. : Mina attempted a new strategy. She’d compiled a list of possible dog names Momo had used, heard, or might like. Then she turned it into a game.

She printed tiny signs and stuck them to both dogs’ backs like name tags. She called it: Name That Dog.

Today’s round included:

• Biscuit
  
  
• Captain Barktholomew
  
  
• The Thing
  
  
• The Other Thing
  
  
• Peaches
  
  
• Cloud
  
  
• Steve
  
  

She paraded them around the apartment like walking name experiments, and Momo walked into the living room mid-parade and stared.

“…Why does Steve have a price tag?”

“It’s an experiment,” Mina said confidently. “I’m testing for aesthetic resonance.”

Momo blinked. “That’s not a thing.”

“It is if you believe.”

Momo tilted her head. “Did you put a sticker on his butt that says ‘Captain Barktholomew’?”

“I’m exploring name branding,” Mina said with a totally straight face.

Momo just blinked. “Do I even want to ask?”

Mina shook her head. “I’m in too deep.”

Momo snorted, shook her head, and walked away muttering something about ‘artists and their nonsense.’

“Aren’t you a photographer, tho?” Mina said it loud so Momo could hear, as she dropped to her knees and looked the smaller dog in the eye. “You could’ve barked at something, given me a hint. But noooo.”

The dog licked her nose.

Mina melted just a little. “Damn it. You win this round.”

2:13 p.m. : Mina dragged the dogs to the local park. She was determined. She wore sunglasses, a hoodie, and held her phone like a weapon.

She made a sign. It read: “Name these dogs! Guess correctly and win a compliment!”

It didn’t work. Everyone just said things like, “They look like a Mango and a Waffle!” or “Oh my God, I used to have a dog named Steve too!”

Mina offered 19 compliments and got 0 leads.

One child walked up, pointed at the smaller dog, and declared, “That one’s name is Hot Dog.”

Mina stared at the child. “Honestly? I believe you.”

3:30 p.m. : “Guys, I made name tags.” Mina sent.

“How’s that going for you?” Jeongyeon asked.

“Well, Momo didn’t question it as much as she should’ve, which is worrying.”

“New name idea: Pancake and Vengeance.” Chaeyoung offered.

“I’d believe it.” Mina replied.

“What if they just respond to vibes?” Nayeon said.

“I yelled ‘tax evader’ and they both came running.” Mina added.

“I’m screaming.” Dahyun sent.

“I’m dead serious.” Mina said. “I think that’s the closest I’ve gotten to a name response.”

3:30 p.m. : Operation Copy & Paste: Interrogation Phase. Mina brought out the big guns. Her last resort. She sat on the floor, with the dogs lying beside her, taunting her with their sleepy innocence. She called Chaeyoung, Dahyun, and Sana. The chaos squad. She needed backup.

“You look unwell.” Dahyun said immediately.

“I’ve been living with strangers for three days.”

“They’re your dogs.” Sana reminded gently.

“ARE THEY?” Mina whisper-screamed. “Do you KNOW that? Because I don’t.”

“You’re unraveling.” Chaeyoung said with a proud smile.

“I  printed labels, and made a spreadsheet, and I bribed children. One of the dogs might be named Hot Dog. I don’t know anymore.”

Sana blinked. “Wait. That’s not their name?”

“NO.”

Chaeyoung leaned into the frame. “Have you tried bribing Momo?”

“Like with food?”

“Or kisses. Whatever works.”

Mina rubbed her face. “I’ve tried affection. I’ve tried sneak attacks. I even tried making a fake spreadsheet for ‘tax purposes.’ She just told me the dogs claim ‘sovereign citizen’ status and owe no taxes.”

Dahyun cackled. “She’s on another level.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

Sana said, “Have you considered… hypnosis?”

Mina stared. “Are you joking, or are you serious? Because I’m at the point where I might genuinely try it.”

“I have a Youtube video saved.” Sana replied solemnly.

5:00 p.m. : Mina waited for Momo to get out of the shower. She sat on the couch, a plate of snacks ready and music playing softly. The dogs were asleep beside her, both curled into meatloaf positions like unhelpful clouds of fluff.

When Momo emerged, hair damp, towel around her shoulders, Mina patted the couch. “Hey, come sit. I made snacks.”

Momo narrowed her eyes. “Why do you sound suspicious?”

“I’m being romantic, ” Mina replied.

Momo plopped beside her and stole a grape.

“So,” Mina said, gently, “hypothetically, if you had to rename the dogs right now, like if they were in witness protection, what would you call them?”

Momo laughed. “Ooooh. Fun question.”

Mina waited.

“I’d probably go with something like... Thunder and Lightning.”

Mina nodded. “Cool. Cool cool cool.”

“Or maybe Chaos and Mayhem.”

Mina scribbled notes on her phone under the table.

Momo eyed her. “Are you writing this down?”

“I like your creativity!”

Momo raised an eyebrow.

“Spaghetti and... Tax Fraud.”

“…You’re not taking this seriously.”

“Oh no. I am.”

Mina smiled sweetly and popped a cracker in her mouth. “I’m not collecting data, okay? Just appreciating my future wife’s beautiful brain.”

Momo narrowed her eyes but let it go.

Another bullet dodged.

7:40 p.m. : Dinner was peaceful. Suspiciously peaceful.

Too peaceful.

Mina stared at the dogs the whole time. They just stared back, eyes full of secrets. The smaller one dropped a pea on the floor and then stared at it for twenty minutes.

Mina whispered “Tell me your name and I’ll let you eat at the table.”

The dog licked the floor.

Mina was spiraling. “Guys, she just called one of them ‘tax fraud.’” She sent it to their group chat, avoiding making any facial expression.

“Honestly, that might be it.” Chaeyoung replied.

“If you named a dog ‘tax fraud’ I wouldn’t question it.” Jeongyeon added.

“I would.” Tzuyu said. “I would stage an intervention.”

“Can you just check their vet files?” Dahyun asked.

“Password protected.” Mina replied. “The folder is labeled ‘top secret puppers’. And NO, I’m not hacking her laptop.”

“Okay, but if you WERE... I can help.” Chaeyoung is really into this.

“She’s mocking you.” Sana wrote.

“I know.” Mina replied bitterly.

11:57 p.m. : Mina lay in bed beside Momo, wide awake. She stared at the ceiling. One dog was snuggled into her hip, and the other lay across Momo’s legs. The younger woman whispered into the dark, “If you tell me your name, I’ll get you one of those stupid gourmet cupcakes shaped like a bone. Just bark once.”

Silence.

Momo shifted in her sleep and mumbled something, and Mina froze.

Did she just say... “Bedtime, little Milkman...”?

Milkman again. That name kept coming up, but who was Milkman? And if Milkman was real... who was the other one? She closed her eyes and clutched her phone like a lifeline.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow would be the day.

She would find the truth, or she would perish trying.

Operation Copy & Paste – Day 3: Still failing.
Progress: 2%
New theories: Dogs are spies.
Mina’s mental state: Peeling like old wallpaper.
Momo’s suspicion level: 6/10
Hope: Clinging to a bone-shaped cupcake dream.

Chapter Text

Operation Copy & Paste – Day 4

Mina woke up to a cold, wet nose pressing insistently against her cheek. She cracked one eye open and met the unblinking stare of the smaller dog, who was standing on her pillow. 

"You.” Mina croaked. “You are testing me.”

The dog blinked slowly like he knew exactly what she’d just said, and was unimpressed.

“Okay.” she muttered, sitting up. “Rude.”

She looked around. Momo was still asleep, mouth slightly open, one hand curled protectively around the larger dog, who was doing an excellent impersonation of a rock. Or a beanbag. Or possibly a criminal mastermind disguised as a pet.

Mina stared at them both for a long second. “Today’s the day.” she whispered to herself. “Today I get answers.”

The smaller dog licked her elbow in what she could only assume was mockery.

“Day 4. Still nameless.” Mina reached for her phone and typed into the group chat. “One of them just stared at me while stepping on my chest.”

“They’ve officially taken over.” Nayeon replied. “Blink twice if you’re in danger.”

“I tried blinking. They blinked back. I think they think I’m the pet.” Mina added.

“They might be right.” Jeongyeon replied. “The little one gives off landlord energy.”

“CEO energy.” Chaeyoung corrected. “I bet he signs your lease.”

“What if they’ve never had names?” Dahyun suggested. “What if Momo just assigns random ones every week, and even she doesn’t know anymore?”

“That explains Milkman.” Mina replied. “She said ‘bedtime, Milkman’ last night and I had an actual spiritual reaction.”

10:21 a.m.

Sana called her. This meant something chaotic was about to happen.

“Hey.” Mina said suspiciously.

Sana immediately answered. “You know what this whole thing reminds me of?”

Mina sighed. “No, but I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”

“My turtle.”

Pause.

“…You have a turtle ?”

“Yeah! She lives in Japan with my parents. I’ve had her since I was sixteen.”

Mina blinked several times. “You’ve been in my life for years. And not once, not once , have you ever mentioned a turtle.”

Sana shrugged from the other side of the line. “It just never came up.”

“WHAT’S HER NAME?”

Sana tilted her head thoughtfully. “You know… I don’t actually remember.”

Mina nearly dropped her phone.

“I called her a bunch of stuff growing up,” Sana continued. “You know. 'Turtlenee-chan.' ‘Shell Queen.’ ‘Yoko Ono.’”

“YOKO ONO?”

Sana looked pleased. “She had an aura.”

“THIS IS A TRAGEDY.”

“She’s still alive!” Sana argued. “She just doesn’t have… one name. She’s spiritually fluid.”

“You mean nameless .”

“Semantics.”

Mina hung up after a little more conversation and went after Momo at their house. She sat close to Momo on the couch, trying to look casual and nonchalant. “Hey, babe….” She approached her fiancée. “Did you know Sana has a turtle as a pet?” 

Momo nodded immediately. “Kame-san, right?”

Mina nearly choked. “You know the turtle’s name?”

Momo shrugged. “Of course. She told me a long time ago, when we met.” 

“AND YOU REMEMBERED?!”

Momo gave her a look. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“But Kame-san like… turtle?” 

“Pretty much.”

“Oh God.” Mina sighed.

“Why do you ask, Minari?”

“We were on the phone, and the subject came up. I’ve never heard of this turtle before.”

“I’m pretty sure that not even Jihyo knows about this turtle.” Momo laughed.

“Sana has a turtle. A secret turtle.” Mina typed on their group chat, still processing the betrayal. “She forgot her own turtle’s name.”

“It is NOT a secret turtle! And I did not forget!” Sana replied instantly. “I just never fully committed to a name, okay?”

“SANA HAS A TURTLE?” Jihyo replied in surprise. 

“SEE! Not even Jihyo knew about this turtle.” Mina said.“She named it Kame-san.” She added. 

“...” Nayeon sent. “Turtle in Japanese…?”

“I did NOT name it.” Sana tried to defend herself. “My parents did, I just… couldn’t find a cool name and started to call it Kame-san too…”

“You literally named your turtle ‘Turtle’.” Jeongyeon replied.

“It’s minimalist!” Sana protested.

“It’s criminal.” Tzuyu added. “The turtle deserves better.”

“She’s thriving!” Sana argued. “She lives a peaceful life in Japan.”

“And still has more identity than Mina’s dogs.” Nayeon sent.

“I hate all of you.” Mina typed. “Especially you, Kame-san.”

“I can’t believe none of us knew about the turtle.” Chaeyoung sent.

“But Mina, how did you find the name out?” Sana asked.

“I asked Momo, she told me the whole thing.”

“Oh God, Momo knew about Sana’s secret turtle, and we cannot even remember about her dogs.” Jihyo said, laughing to herself.

“She knew the turtle’s name.” Mina messaged. “She remembered. Instantly. But still won’t say the dogs’ names.”

“To be fair, Kame-san is just ‘turtle’.” Dahyun replied.

“Still counts,” Mina added. “I’m out here being emotionally manipulated by mammals.”

“Ok, chill. I feel like you’re feeling betrayed.” Nayeon texted.

“A TURTLE. A WHOLE REPTILE THAT LIVES IN A DIFFERENT COUNTRY.”

“You’re not losing to dogs.” Jeongyeon wrote. “You’re losing to Momo .”

“That’s worse.” Mina replied. “She’s smarter and cuter and unreasonably calm.”

“She once filed my taxes while upside-down on the couch,” Chaeyoung sent. “I trust her more than the government.”

“Girl, just ask her.” Dahyun said after a few seconds.

“I CAN’T. IF I ASK NOW, SHE’LL KNOW I FORGOT.”

“To be fair…” Tzuyu started. “You did forget.”

“That’s not the point.” Mina said, practically vibrating with frustration.

“I feel like I’m being unfairly dragged into this.” Sana replied, wounded in the most unconvincing way.

“You named a turtle Turtle .” Nayeon said, deadpan.

“AND I STAND BY HER.” Sana declared, as if she'd just defended her child in court.

If Sana could forget the name of her own pet and live peacefully with that knowledge, could Mina… have never learned the dog names to begin with? She thought back. Had Momo ever explicitly said the names? Or had Mina just nodded vaguely every time, smiling like she understood what was happening? Had she gaslit herself?

She looked at the dogs. They looked back with identical expressions of smugness.

“Oh, you’re evil.”

The smaller one wagged his tail.

3:30 p.m.

Mina lay dramatically on the living room floor, arms outstretched like a tragic plot twist had just hit her in a daytime soap. She stared at the ceiling as though it might blink back an answer. The dogs were sprawled nearby, perfectly content. Unbothered. Possibly retired war generals. Possibly ghosts. Possibly figments of her own guilt for never remembering their names. She wasn't sure anymore. She hadn't been sure for three days. Their names, whatever they were, remained locked away like top-secret government files. And these two? These fluffy double agents? They were stone-faced protectors of classified information.

She sighed, long and loud.

“I’ve done everything,” she mumbled to herself. “Stickers. Lists. Interrogation games. Bribery. Emotional bribery. Whispered promises of gourmet snacks. I even tried reverse psychology. You ignored me on purpose , didn’t you?”

The smaller dog yawned and rolled over like she wasn’t even worth the energy.

“Oh, don’t act innocent,” she muttered, squinting at him. “You were the one who pretended to respond to 'Tax Fraud.' That was a choice .” Her brain, now buzzing with caffeine and mild betrayal, circled back again. Momo remembered Kame-san . A turtle. A turtle she didn’t even own . A turtle that lived in another country . But when Mina said, “Did you know Sana had a turtle?” Momo hadn’t even blinked. She’d answered immediately , like it was just common turtle trivia. But when it came to her dogs? Silence. Distraction. Jokes about witness protection and renaming them Spaghetti and Arson. What was she hiding?

Mina sat up abruptly, one elbow cracking with a pop. “No, seriously. Is this a test? Are you guys, like, part of some elaborate Momo-designed escape room challenge? Is this love? Is this war?”

The dogs blinked.

“Okay,” she muttered, lowering herself dramatically again. “Fine. You want to play mysterious? I can play mysterious too.”

She rolled onto her side and stared at the bigger dog, eyes narrowed.

“Are you Milkman?” she asked quietly, intensely.

The dog stared at her.

She leaned closer. “Just blink once.”

He sneezed.

Mina gasped, scandalized. “WAS THAT A YES?”

The dog stood up, stretched, and walked to the kitchen. Mina’s eyes followed him with the slow, trembling betrayal of a woman watching her one lead disappear into the void.

“WHY ARE YOU SO MYSTERIOUS?” she called after him.

No response. Just the soft patter of paws and the silent judgment of a creature who definitely knew more than he was letting on.

The smaller one snored.

Mina collapsed back onto the rug like a fainting Victorian heroine. “I’m being played. You’re all playing me.”

She sat up again. “I’m going to need a flowchart. And possibly a support group.” She got her phone and started typing in the notes app.

New Info:

• Momo has an excellent memory.
  
  
• The dogs may not be dogs.
  
  
• One child said “Hot Dog” and I still think about it.
  
  
• Sana named her turtle “Turtle” and that somehow makes sense.
  
  
• I may never recover from this.

“Today I learned the name of a turtle and lost more of my soul.” Mina wrote, lying on her pillow.

“That sounds like a proverb.” Nayeon replied.

“Did you try hypnotizing the dogs yet?” Jeongyeon asked.

“I still have the YouTube link!” Sana offered, way too cheerfully.

“If this goes on any longer, I might try psychic communication.” Mina muttered.

“Use crystals.” Dahyun said. “They respect the vibe.”

“Try yelling ‘Kame-san!’ at the dogs,” Chaeyoung suggested. “Maybe they’ll think it’s their name.”

“If one of these dogs is named Turtle …” Mina warned, “I’m quitting life.”

“Bold of you to assume you’re still in control.” Tzuyu replied.

12:03 a.m.

Mina lay awake in bed beside Momo, who was already asleep, the dogs nestled between them. “I named a succulent once.” she whispered to herself, “and remembered it for years. Why can’t I crack this?” One of the dogs snored and Momo murmured in her sleep, “...bedtime, little Milkman…”

Mina’s eyes flew open.

She gasped. Again. “Who’s Milkman?!”

Silence.

Operation Copy & Paste – Day 4: Ongoing Disaster

Progress: ZERO
New information: Momo remembers reptile names
Dog names: Still classified
Trust in reality: Medium-low
Mina’s grip on sanity: Hanging by a leash
Next strategy: Maybe actually try hypnosis

Chapter Text

Operation Copy & Paste – Day 5

Mina woke up to the unmistakable sound of plastic being shredded, just like a raccoon in a recycling bin. For a moment, she clung to the edge of sleep, pretending that maybe, just maybe, it was part of a dream. Maybe she was in a peaceful place, like a field of sunflowers, or a library where no one chewed loudly.

But no. It was real. And it was happening in her bedroom.

She opened one eye, cautiously, like someone checking if the storm had passed. It hadn’t.

The smaller dog, going by Chaos Biscuit after a series of violent acts against houseplants, socks, and one particularly unfortunate slipper. His tiny jaws were clamped around the carcass of a water bottle that had clearly never stood a chance. The label had been stripped, chewed, and possibly eaten. Plastic shreds sparkled like confetti across the floor as he attacked with the unrelenting energy of someone trying to excavate ancient secrets from inside the bottle.

He paused only to look directly at Mina. A slow blink, then, he resumed his mission. The larger dog, recently christened Sir Pillowth the 3rd, mostly due to his refusal to move from soft surfaces, sat like a dethroned monarch atop a decorative throw pillow. The pillow had once matched the curtains, but now it was covered in fur. His legs were tucked neatly beneath him, his expression was unreadable, and his judgment was absolute. If Chaos Biscuit was the storm, Pillowth was the cold front that followed.

Mina groaned and sat up, limbs heavy with the kind of existential fatigue usually reserved for midterms and office birthday parties. “Oh, good.” she muttered, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. “The agents of chaos are already hard at work.”

Sir Pillowth blinked slowly, the kind of blink that said ‘you’ll never win. You don’t even know what game we’re playing.’ Mina rubbed her face with both hands. “This is fine. Totally fine. Just another morning waking up in a psychological thriller.”

She stood, stretched, and glanced at the clock. 8:21 a.m. Too early for a breakdown, too late for escape. She shuffled toward the kitchen and returned with a glass of water, only to find Chaos Biscuit had moved on to disassembling the corner of a cardboard shipping box. “Is it enriching?” she asked, leaning on the wall. “Are you fulfilled?” He let out a noise that could’ve been a hiccup or a warning.

Mina sighed, setting her glass down. “You know what? I’ve accepted it. You’re in charge now. Congratulations on your tiny, shredded kingdom.” She looked over at Sir PIllowth, who remained perfectly still except for one paw that lazily twitched as if to say your suffering amuses me.

"One of them is chewing a water bottle like it owes him money and a personal apology." Mina wrote in the group chat.

"Blink twice if he’s making you watch." Nayeon replied.

"Or once if you’ve accepted this as your fate." Chaeyoung added.

"New names." Mina continued. "The small one is Chaos Biscuit. The big one is Sir Pillowth the 3rd."

"Did you name him after a household thing dynasty?" Jeongyeon asked.

"He carries himself like he’s seen things. Deep, yeasty things."

"They sound like failed cartoon villains. Or indie band names." Sana wrote.

"Are you still trying to remember their real names, or has that ship sunk?" Dahyun chimed in.

"It sank." Mina replied. "The ocean claimed it. I’m building a raft out of denial."

"May your raft be unsinkable and your identity crisis short-lived." said Tzuyu.

9:14 a.m.

Mina waited until Momo was deep into her yoga routine, which currently involved muttering things like “I am made of gentle light” while twisting into postures that looked a little too hard for Mina. Her voice floated in from the other room in calm, meditative tones, occasionally broken by a strained grunt or a whispered “Ow, enlightenment hurts.”

Taking that as her window of opportunity, Mina tiptoed into the kitchen just like someone carrying state secrets and a lot of emotional baggage. Her heartbeat was louder than her footsteps, not because she was doing anything illegal, technically, but because this had become a kind of spiritual warfare. She was about to bargain with creatures who clearly thrived on psychological torment.

She opened the fridge like a monk approaching a shrine and reached for the ultimate weapon: the Good Meat. The fancy kind that Momo only brought out when people from work visited or when it was a special occasion. Mina cut off two pieces, placed them delicately on a tiny porcelain dish shaped like a cat, and held it in both hands like an offering to vengeful gods.

She turned slowly, dramatically, and knelt on the living room rug across from the dogs like she was entering a diplomatic summit.

“You two want to play games?” she whispered, eyes narrowed. “Fine. But I come with bribe.”

Chaos Biscuit was already halfway through a tail wag, ears perked and face alert, like a toddler who had heard the word “snack” in a five-mile radius. Sir Pillowth the 3rd, on the other hand, remained completely motionless on his cushion throne, watching with the kind of still disdain usually reserved for professors grading first-year essays.

“This is not a trap.” Mina said slowly, holding the meat up between her fingers. “It’s a peaceful exchange. Meat for intel. You give me your names, and I give you snacks. Everyone wins. No need for further psychological warfare. No need for whatever yesterday was, when someone locked themselves in the bathroom with my slipper.” Chaos Biscuit inched forward, ears twitching, nose working overtime. He looked like he might consider her offer. Mina held her breath, but then he blinked, tilted his head the other way, and sat back on his haunches like a smug little imp. He wasn’t rejecting the meat. He was rejecting the premise.

Sir Pillowth the 3rd, traitor of nations and breaker of dreams, let out a jaw-cracking yawn, flopped onto his side, and closed his eyes. Mina’s jaw dropped. “You monsters.” she hissed. “You’re holding out on me. You know who you are.” She set the meat down gently on the rug between them, hands shaking with theatrical betrayal. “There. Bribe’s on the table. Your move.”

Chaos Biscuit sniffed the air once, gave her a look that said your desperation is pungent , and walked away.

Sir Pillowth snored.

Mina sat back on her heels, utterly defeated. “I’m losing my mind,” she whispered. “To dogs.”

And somewhere in the background, Momo’s voice rang out again, calm and breathy: “I welcome stillness into my hips.”

“I offered fancy meat in exchange for truth. Was met with scorn and a yawn.” Mina sent to the group chat.

“You tried carnivore diplomacy. Brave.” Nayeon replied immediately.

“I think Sir Pillowth has diplomatic immunity.” Jeongyeon added.

“He looked at the meat like it insulted his lineage.” Mina sent, pairing it with a photo of the untouched meat pieces.

“Try reverse psychology.” Sana suggested. “Tell them you already know and act disappointed when they confirm it.”

“Or name them something so weird it loops around to being right.” Dahyun added. “Like Quantum Beef or Harold.”

“I called one ‘Detective Sausage.’ He sneezed. What does it mean?” Mina asked.

“You’re bonded for life now. Congrats.” Tzuyu replied.

11:21 a.m.

Mina set up two chairs facing each other in the living room like a therapist preparing for back-to-back breakdowns. One was her usual reading chair, and the other she’d dragged in from the dining table. It squeaked a little when she adjusted it, lending a kind of courtroom gravity to the moment.

She sat down with the weighted sigh of someone who had already been emotionally defeated by two creatures who were having fun with her suffering. The dogs climbed into the opposite chair without being prompted. Honestly, it was a little eerie.

“This is an interview,” she said firmly, holding a spatula like a microphone. She had originally planned to use her phone, but the spatula felt more dramatic. “You’ve both been living in this household for years. It’s time to come clean.”

Chaos Biscuit yawned theatrically, throwing his head back like a soap opera actor. A single paw dangled off the chair like he was bored. Mina narrowed her eyes. “Let’s start simple. First name?”

Silence.

“Middle name?” she tried, as if that would somehow unlock a memory, or better yet, guilt them into confessing.

Sir Pillowth blinked slowly. The kind of blink that said, You are beneath me, peasant. You are cheese crumbs on the floor of my kingdom.

She tapped at her Notes app anyway, documenting the moment like a war reporter under siege:

Subject: Sir Pillowth
Mood: Regal. Possibly named after bread or vengeance.
Won’t break. Stonewalling. Might be in a cult.

“You’re not making this easy.” she muttered, mostly to herself. The dogs didn’t flinch.

Chaos Biscuit stretched, then flopped down, tired of all of this. He let out a long, weighted sigh and glanced at her sideways, the look , that quiet, judgmental stare that said, You’re exhausting. We were supposed to nap at this hour.

“I AM TRYING.” Mina whispered, holding the spatula to her forehead as if it could conduct spiritual clarity. Her eyes were tired. Her Notes app was full of nothing. Her dogs were, apparently, ex-KGB agents trained to resist interrogation. And her fiancée? Was just two rooms away, totally unaware that the person she loved most was unraveling over something as basic and sacred as the names of her pets.

Mina leaned forward. “Okay.” she said slowly. “Let’s try something new.”

She set the spatula down gently, pulled out her phone, and opened a fresh document titled:

OPERATION COPY AND PASTE – LIVING ON A PRAYER EDITION

“I’m gonna start listing names. You wag, blink, sneeze, telepath me, anything , when I get close, okay?”

Both dogs stared blankly.

“Good talk.” she said.

She cleared her throat and started reading off her list like a deranged stage manager doing role call for a cursed improv troupe.

“Gumball?”  Nothing.

“Pickle?” Chaos Biscuit scratched his ear. Suspicious.

“Bartholomew?” Pillowth blinked. Once. Then again. Was that his tell?

“King Bucket?” Chaos Biscuit sneezed. Mina paused.

She looked at them both. “Was that it? Was that a clue? Or do you just hate me?”

Pillowth closed his eyes and laid down on his throne-chair with all the disinterest of a retired monarch. Chaos Biscuit started licking between his toes like the interrogation was beneath him.

“I’m losing it.” Mina murmured, flopping back in her chair and staring at the ceiling. “They’re winning. The dogs are winning.”

Her phone buzzed on her lap. A text.

“How’s everything going?” It was a text from Dahyun.

“Held formal interviews. Results inconclusive. Was yawned at twice.” Mina sent to the group chat.

“You’re losing to them.” Sana replied.

“They’ve formed a union. I fear revolt.” Mina added.

“You should run.” Chaeyoung wrote.

“Try dancing. Confuse them.” Jeongyeon suggested.

“Already did. To Sia. It was a religious experience. They left the room.” Mina responded.

While Mina was chatting with her friends, she knelt in front of the dogs.

“Just a clue.” she whispered. “A syllable. A vowel sound. Tap your paw twice for yes, once for no.”

Chaos Biscuit tilted his head. 

“You understand me, don’t you?”

He blinked.

“Do you… start with an M?”

Silence.

“P? B? Q?”

He ignored her.

Sir Pillowth rolled over. “Traitor.” she hissed.

“Should I try the varsity jacket plan as well? I don’t know anything anyomore.” Mina sent to the group chat.

“I think she will find out.” Dahyun replied.

“What if you’ve never knew the dogs’ names?” Nayeon said.

“Then I’ve been living in a lie spiral.” Mina wrote.

“You might need a memory exorcism.” Jeongyeon sent.

“I bet Kame-san would know what to do.” Sana added.

“Don’t you dare bring the turtle into this.” Mina fired back.

Mina laid on the living room floor, arms spread like she was reenacting a music video from the early 2000s.

“I’m being gaslit by mammals.” she announced.

Chaos Biscuit barked once. Sir Pillowth stared at the ceiling like he was reading invisible scripture.

Everything started getting better when Nayeon texted her “Why don’t you try calling her mom?”

7:55 p.m.

Mina held her phone like it was the final piece in a cursed puzzle. She stared at the bathdoor door, closed, as Momo was showering. then quickly opened her contacts.

Her hands were sweaty. Her heart was pounding. She hit the call button.

Time: 7:56 PM

Mission: Call Momo’s mom and pretend to be interested in dog parenting tips.

It was a dangerous mission. But Mina had no other leads.

“Minari!” came the warm voice of Mrs. Hirai. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Hi, Mama!” Mina smiled sweetly. “Just wondering… I was thinking of getting the boys a new collar set. I wanted to make sure I used the right names. You know… for embroidery.”

“Oh, how nice! Well, you know Momo always changed them, but when we first got them, it was Boo and—”

SLAM.

Momo walked out of the bathroom with wet hair and a towel wrapped around her and Mina gasped. “Gotta go, love you!” and hung up instantly.

Momo raised a brow. “Who were you talking to?”

“Uh. My mom. About… soup.”

Momo squinted. “What kind of soup?”

“Emotional soup.”

“…I’m not even gonna ask.” Momo said, heading to the kitchen.

Mina looked down at the dogs curled up by the bed. One of them opened a single eye and stared at her.

“Who are you?” she whispered.

The dog licked his paw and rolled over.

The mystery deepened.

Operation Copy & Paste – Day 5: Ongoing
Progress: One name recovered (Boo)
Danger level: Elevated
Momo’s suspicion: Moderate
Mina’s sanity: Almost becoming the Joker
Next step: Find the other name. And fast.

Chapter Text

Operation Copy & Paste – Day 6

Mina had stopped trusting mornings.

The sun hit her pillow at the same exact angle it always did, but now it felt like a spotlight, as if the universe itself was interrogating her. She rolled over slowly, cautiously, hoping maybe, just maybe, this would be the day the dog whispered his name into her ear like a divine revelation.

He sat down on her chest.

Staring.

Mina blinked. He blinked back, one beat too late to be natural. “You’re doing this on purpose.” she whispered. “You want me to break.” The dog licked his nose and remained perfectly still. Momo, still asleep next to her, breathed softly, blissfully unaware that Mina was losing a very specific psychological war right beside her. Careful not to wake her fiancée, Mina lifted her phone from under the pillow and opened the group chat.

“I dreamed his name was Echo, but when I said it out loud just now, he sneezed in my mouth.”

“Sounds like a no.” Nayeon said.

“Or a yes in dog Morse code.” Chaeyoung added.

“Try again. Maybe it’s ‘Dustbin’ today.” Jeongyeon wrote.

“It’s not Dustbin.”

“You don’t KNOW that.” Dahyun said.

Sana sent a photo of Kame-san the turtle with the caption: “She says hang in there.”

Mina stared at the turtle’s ancient, unbothered face. “I don’t trust her.”

10:12 a.m.

Momo had gone out for a walk, leaving Mina alone in the apartment with Boo and The Other One. “Okay.” Mina said, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of them, needing to find out which one is Boo. 

“Boo?” she said carefully, pointing at the darker dog. “Confirmed. Verified. Cross-checked. Approved.”

Boo wagged his tail once. The Other One, Vanilla, stared at her like a DMV clerk who had seen too much. Mina set a notebook between them. “Here’s what we’re doing. I’m going to show you some names. You react when it’s yours. We’re keeping it civil today. No yelping, no gaslighting.”

She flipped the first page.

“Bolt?”

Nothing.

“Coconut?”

Blink.

Mina froze. “Wait. Was that a blink blink or a slow blink? Was that a sleepy blink? I NEED YOU TO BE MORE CLEAR.”

Vanilla yawned, turned around, and lay down with his butt facing her.

Mina scribbled in her notebook. “Possible reaction to ‘Coconut.’ Needs further testing. Subject uncooperative. Spirit: criminal.”

“Tried the notebook method.” Mina said at their group chat. “I’ve now been mooned by a dog.”

“That’s probably a hate crime.” Jeongyeon said.

“You’re doing amazing, sweetie.” Sana said.

“He blinked at ‘Coconut.’ It might be something.” Mina said.

“Coconut and Boo is kind of a power duo.” Tzuyu said. “But what if it’s not food this time?”

“He doesn’t FEEL like a non-food.” Mina said.

“You’re profiling your own dog.” Dahyun said.

“I’ve profiled less intensely on first dates.” Mina said.

12:45 p.m.

Momo returned home humming, bags in hand, with two iced drinks and zero suspicion.

“Hey babe.” she said, tossing Mina a bottle. “Got you the one that tastes like disappointment and foam.” “Love you.” Mina said, heart hammering. Boo ran up to greet Momo. The Other One stayed in the hallway, standing still. “Hey, Coconut.” Momo cooed, then laughed to herself. “Wow. No. Coconut does not fit you.”

Mina stared, eyes wide. Did she know? Was she just playing with her? Was this a code?

“Anyway, come here, you menace.” Momo said, scooping him up and kissing his face. “You’ve got that little serial killer vibe today.”

Mina typed with one hand under the table.

“She called him Coconut out loud.” Mina said. “Then took it back. WHAT DOES IT MEAN.”

“She KNOWS.” Nayeon said.

“She’s baiting you.” Jeongyeon said.

“That’s advanced psychological warfare.” Dahyun said.

“She’s three steps ahead. Always has been.” Chaeyoung said.

2:08 p.m.

The doorbell rang.

It was a delivery.

Of dog sweaters.

Mina stared at the bag in her hand and whispered, “I didn’t order anything.” Then she noticed the note, handwritten and suspiciously Momo-shaped. “To: My weird sons. From: Your weird mom.”

Inside: two tiny sweaters. One said “BOO” in sparkly letters. The other said “YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE”.

Mina sat down on the kitchen floor and stared at the sweaters for a long time, then she opened the group chat.

“She KNOWS.”

“I’m sobbing.” Dahyun said.

“That’s iconic.” Sana said.

“You have to break up.” Jeongyeon said.

“Or kill her. Whichever’s easier.” Tzuyu said.

The sweaters were folded neatly on the table like a reminder that Mina’s grip on reality was slipping. She opened her laptop and began googling things like “how to trigger a dog’s name trauma in a healthy way” and “can dogs develop secret identities.” No useful results, just ads for pet psychic services.

Which gave her an idea.

Twenty minutes later, Mina had a video consultation with a woman named Madame Zelda, who had seven cats and a background in performance art. Zelda stared into the camera with wide, knowing eyes.

“Your dog.” she said slowly, “is resisting you.”

“I KNOW.” Mina said. “Do you know why?”

Zelda paused dramatically. “He’s hiding something.”

“Oh my god,” Mina whispered.

Zelda lit a candle. “What’s his aura color?”

Mina blinked. “Uh… smug beige?”

Zelda nodded solemnly. “Yes. A difficult shade.”

Everything was going questionably well when  Momo walked in mid-Zoom.

“Who are you talking to?”

“Work call!” Mina screamed, slamming the laptop shut.

Momo tilted her head. “Was that a woman chanting in Latin?”

“…Corporate synergy.” Mina said.

Momo squinted at her, then shrugged. “Cool. I’m gonna go take a bath.”

As soon as the door closed, Mina reopened the laptop. Zelda had disappeared. All that remained was a final message typed into the chat window:

“One name is Boo. The other is hidden in plain sight.”

Mina stared at it like it was a riddle from an ancient scroll.

“Hidden in plain sight??” Mina typed to her friends.

“Maybe his name is ‘Dog.’” Jeongyeon said.

“Maybe it’s BooBoo and BooToo.” Chaeyoung offered.

“No. I REFUSE.”

“Check his microchip?” Dahyun suggested.

“It just says ‘Property of Momo. Good luck.’” 

“That sounds right.” Nayeon said.

7:23 p.m.

She cornered Boo in the hallway. “Tell me your brother’s name.”

Boo barked. The Other One trotted in and barked twice.

Mina gasped. “Are you… communicating?” They both licked her knee and walked away.

“That’s not a no.” she muttered.

9:42 p.m.

Momo sat on the couch with both dogs snuggled against her, half-watching a documentary about whales and Mina stood at the kitchen counter, watching them.

“Hey babe.” she said casually. “What’s your opinion on dogs with middle names?”

Momo looked up. “Love them. All dogs deserve the drama.”

“What would ours be?”

Momo pointed. “Boo is obviously ‘Boo The Destroyer.’”

Mina nodded slowly. “And this guy?” she asked.

Momo grinned. “That’s the thing. I’ve always thought of him as a little enigma.”

Mina’s soul left her body briefly.

“But if I had to give him a middle name,” Momo continued, “I’d say… ‘Trouble.’”

She paused.

“No. Capital T. is enough .”

Mina stared. “That’s not a name.”

“Sure it is.”

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Am I?” Momo smirked.

Mina curled up in bed, phone in hand, head full of whispers and riddles and chaos. The dog curled beside her lifted his head and stared at her. “I know your brother’s name is Boo.” she whispered. “I know you know I don’t know yours.” He blinked. “But I will.”

He blinked again.

“I WILL.”

Boo snored loudly from the other side of the bed. The mystery dog rolled over and burrowed deeper into the blanket. Mina typed one final message before sleep:

Operation Copy & Paste – Day 6: Survived.

Progress: Boo confirmed.

Lighter dog name: Still redacted.

Momo’s suspicion level: Possibly omniscient.

New enemy: Dog sweaters.

Hint: Hidden in plain sight.

Chapter Text

Operation Copy & Paste – Day 7

Mina was awake before the alarm, but not by choice. She had been summoned. The lighter dog, nameless, wordless, and endlessly smug, was standing on her chest like a little ghost that haunted her days. His front paws pressed into her sternum, tail still, ears pointed like tiny question marks.

She blinked at him. He blinked back, just late enough to be hostile.

“You’re doing this on purpose.” Mina whispered. “You want me tired. Weak. Confused. Vulnerable.”

From beside her, Momo turned in her sleep and tucked the blanket under her chin with an innocent sigh, unaware of the psychological warfare playing out on her fiancée’s torso. The dog stayed there a moment longer, then leapt off the bed and trotted into the hallway like a man in an action movie who’d just dropped a bomb and walked away in slow motion. Mina exhaled. She looked over at Boo, who was curled into a perfect donut. “Don’t pretend you are that nice.” Mina whispered, reaching out to scratch behind his ears. Boo grunted softly and scooted closer. Still, the balance of the universe was off. She rolled out of bed, pulled on a hoodie, and padded barefoot into the kitchen. Her phone buzzed as she poured water into the kettle.

“I woke up with him on my chest like a demon from a sleep paralysis.” Mina said.

“Maybe he’s trying to tell you his name through osmosis.” Chaeyoung replied.

“Did you try screaming a list of names directly into his soul?” Jeongyeon asked.

“Try softer names today.” Tzuyu suggested. “What if he’s just shy?”

“Or too powerful for soft syllables.” Dahyun said. “Like… maybe his name is ‘Knox’ or ‘Blade’.”

“No one who looks that smug is named Blade.” Mina replied. “Unless he gave it to himself.”

She glanced down. The lighter dog had followed her, this time silently, and was now sitting at her feet like a gargoyle. Watching.

“What if his name is just Kevin?” Mina typed.

“Ew.” said Nayeon.

“I kind of love it.” said Sana.

Mina was too tired to argue. “Kevin it is. Trial run begins now.”

She placed a piece of toast on the floor. “Hey, Kevin. Come get it.”

No reaction.

“Kev?”

Nothing.

“Kevster?”

The dog blinked once and turned away.

Mina picked the toast back up and took a bite out of spite.

After Momo left for her morning walk, Mina launched a new attack strategy. She gathered all the physical evidence she’d ever seen Momo interact with that related to the dogs. Toys, treats, tags, binders, calendars. She laid them across the floor like a war general preparing for battle. Then, she opened the hallway closet.

The hallway closet had always been neutral territory, where raincoats, spare towels, and out-of-season clutter went to rest in peace. But tucked behind a box of expired holiday decorations and a suspicious bag labeled “dog shoes (left only?)” was a wicker folder bin labeled PET STUFF in Momo’s handwriting.

Mina reached for it with reverence. Inside: folders, envelopes, vaccination records, and then, paydirt.

A dog vaccination card.

She pulled it free with shaking hands and read:

Name: Boo
Breed: Norwich Terrier
D.O.B: January, 2nd, 2020.
Owner: Hirai Momo

“Boo.” she whispered. “Confirmed. Legally real. ID-verified.” Her fingers flipped quickly through the rest of the papers, desperate for a second card. There had to be one. But there wasn’t.

Just Boo.

One card. One dog. One answer, and one total void of the other.

Mina texted the group chat.

“I found a vaccination card. It’s only Boo’s.” Mina said.

“She’s hiding the other one.” Jeongyeon said immediately.

“Behind a mirror.” Chaeyoung added.

“Or in a fake book on the shelf.” Dahyun offered.

“She knows you’re getting close.” Tzuyu said.

“She’s deleting evidence in real time.” Nayeon said. “You’re being gaslit at a domestic level.”

Mina dropped onto the floor, the empty folder on her lap like a hollow treasure chest. The unnamed dog walked into the room, sat beside the folder, and stared at her as if to say, you found what you were meant to find. Nothing more.

Mina was developing a theory: the lighter dog might be smarter than her.

Not in the usual roll over, sit, paw kind of way. He hadn’t displayed a single recognizable trick since she got here. But every time she thought she had the upper hand, he did something, some quiet little maneuver, that made her question the nature of her own cognition.

Take this morning, for example.

She had hidden a mini camera, the kind she once used for livestreaming calligraphy, inside a mug on the kitchen counter. Nothing sinister. Just a casual observation device to see how the unnamed dog reacted to different stimuli while she ‘wasn’t looking.’ She even left a list of names beside the dog bed, handwritten on sticky notes in neat, even columns. Classic behavioral study setup. Then she left the room. Two minutes later, she peeked through the kitchen doorway and saw him… sitting perfectly still… staring directly into the mug. 

Right into the lens.

He didn’t bark. He didn’t move. He just held unbroken eye contact with the camera for an entire minute, like a judge staring into the soul of a defendant. Mina walked back into the room and shut the camera off.

She sent a photo to the group chat. “He found the spy cam.”

“Oh my god.” Chaeyoung said.

“You’re compromised.” said Dahyun. “Abort mission.”

“Does he have thumbs?” Jeongyeon asked. “Be honest.”

“No.” Mina replied, “but I think he could rent thumbs if he wanted.”

“He’s gonna send you a bill for emotional damages.” Nayeon said.

Sana sent a photo of Kame-san with a single caption: retreat, but with dignity.

Mina considered it. Briefly.

Then she doubled down.

The new strategy was inspired by a podcast episode on animal cognition she had half-listened to in a fugue state two days ago. It had mentioned something about contextual memory recall, how dogs can remember commands or events better if the environment is altered slightly.

So she changed the setting. She and the dogs were now in the bathroom.

“Alright.” Mina said, sitting cross-legged on the fluffy bath mat, “new environment, new you. Let’s try some gentle exposure therapy.”

The lighter dog sat across from her, nose twitching. Boo, having no interest in whatever psychological experiment was unfolding, had already curled up inside the laundry basket and was napping under a pair of Momo’s sweatpants. “Okay.” She continued, laying out index cards in a semi-circle. “Each of these has a potential name. I’m going to say them one by one. If one resonates, you give me… I don’t know, a paw raise. Or blink. Or collapse dramatically. I’m flexible.”

The dog sniffed a card and immediately sneezed.

“Was that a reaction to the word ‘Teddy’ or just dust?” Mina asked. “Give me a signal that is not a sneeze.”

Nothing.

“Fine. Let’s try a few more.”

She went through ten names, ranging from basic (Buddy, Max) to aspirational (Cosmo, Waffles, Prince), and got precisely zero data points. The dog eventually lay down and rested his chin on his paws, eyes wide and unimpressed.

Mina lay back on the bath mat. “I’m doing this for love.” she muttered at the ceiling. “I could’ve just asked. But no. I had to make it a thing.”

The dog let out a small huff, almost like a chuckle. Mina sat up. “Wait. Do you like that this is killing me?” The dog yawned. “That’s not a no.”

Later that day, she tried a new tactic: scent association.

She opened the kitchen cabinet where Momo kept the bougie dog treats, dehydrated duck bits, grain-free chewies, and salmon jerky that cost way more than she would be willing to pay. She laid out four different types on the coffee table and labeled each one with a sticky note bearing a different name.

“Okay,” she said, “you pick the treat that calls to your soul. That’s your name now. Democratic process, and we’ll take it to the committee after.” She watched carefully as both dogs trotted over.

Boo sniffed each pile politely and settled on a pillow. The other dog walked slowly, deliberately, around the table twice.

Then he picked up the sticky note labeled “Flint” and walked away with it.

“Wait.” Mina said, scrambling after him. “You’re choosing Flint?!”

He dropped the note halfway to the hallway and then peed on it.

Mina stared down at the damp, shredded square. “…Message received.”

By 4 p.m., she was running out of options. Momo was still out, having gone to run errands and pick up some dog shampoo from that overpriced boutique that gave out branded paw wipes. Mina sat on the couch with her laptop open to a Google Doc ominously titled:

Project Codename: Unmask the Fluffy Stranger

The document had three bullet points and one table. The table was just two columns: one for “Maybe Names” and the other for “Reactions (or Lack Thereof).” All the reactions were either “blink,” “yawn,” or “pee.”

Her phone buzzed. Nayeon had sent a voice note.

“Okay listen.” Nayeon said, “what if the name isn’t a name? What if it’s like… a vibe? Like, not ‘Charlie’ or ‘Pepper’ but something like… ‘Boss’? ‘Captain’? ‘Sir’?”

Mina texted back immediately. “If his name is ‘Sir’ I will launch myself into the sun.”

“I once knew a dog named Sir Reginald.” Nayeon said. “He bit a priest.”

“That sounds like something this one would do.”

The dog, curled up on the rug by the window, opened one eye. Just one. Then closed it again.

He knew.

When Momo finally returned, smelling faintly of lavender and dog shampoo, Mina tried to act normal. Tried.

“Hey babe,” Momo said, holding up a shopping bag, “I got them matching bathrobes. For after bath time, obviously.”

Mina blinked. “We do bathrobes now?”

Momo grinned. “It’s about luxury. They deserve comfort after the trauma of being clean.”

“Sure.” Mina said. “You know… There’s this new trend on TikTok about starting a spreadsheet of dog names. Just random ideas to be posted later.”

“Oh yeah?” Momo said, crouching to scratch behind Boo’s ears. “You have one in mind?”

Mina panicked. “Cactus.”

Momo tilted her head. “For… a dog?”

“What if the dog’s prickly?” Mina said.

Momo glanced at the unnamed dog, who was now chewing on the corner of a pillow with slow, calculated disobedience.

“Okay.” Momo said with a smile, “I can kind of see it.”

Mina typed a new note on her phone:

Operation Copy & Paste – Day 7: Lighter dog almost named Cactus. Nobody blinked. May not be the worst option.

She looked up. Momo was still smiling at her, sweetly, and it seemed like she knew nothing at all, like none of this was suspicious. Like she wasn’t harboring a state secret. Like she wasn’t quietly winning.

Mina swallowed hard.

Tomorrow, she told herself. Tomorrow, she would get closer.

Or the dog would win.

Mina found herself loitering near the bathroom door. She wasn’t proud of it, but she had reached the point of moral erosion where eavesdropping on Momo’s dog bath routine felt like a legitimate intel-gathering method. Inside, there was splashing. Momo’s voice floated through the door, high and cheerful.

“Okay, Boo, you first. You’re the brave one. Champion of the suds.” A pause. More splashing. “You, my guy, I swear, don’t lick the shampoo again.”

Mina narrowed her eyes. No names. Just titles. She paced the hallway twice, stopped, then tiptoed to the edge of the doorway and peeked through the tiny crack.

Momo was kneeling by the tub, sleeves pushed up, drenched to the elbows, and grinning like she was in a spa commercial. Boo was already swaddled in a towel on the floor like a burrito, while the lighter dog stood in the tub looking like a wet squirrel.

“I know, I know.” Momo cooed, scrubbing behind his ears. “You hate this. It’s okay. You’ll be soft and handsome in five minutes.”

Still no names.

Mina chewed her thumbnail. “Soft and handsome” was definitely a descriptor. Not an identity. Not an answer. She backed away from the door before Momo could catch her and ducked into the bedroom. She needed to regroup. Retaliate. There was one place she hadn’t looked yet, one final, low-tech weapon in her arsenal.

The drawer.

More specifically, the weird junk drawer by the entryway, where Momo stashed everything from expired coupons to dead batteries and a collection of takeout menus from restaurants they hadn’t ordered from since 2022.

Mina rifled through it in silence. She unearthed a keychain with no keys, a glow-in-the-dark slap bracelet, a single sock, and finally, a slightly crumpled envelope. She opened it with trembling hands. Inside: veterinary paperwork. Receipts. A vaccine log. Her breath caught.

The first page was for Boo. Confirmed name, we already know. Medical history. Rabies tag.

But the second page?

Just a printout with no name at the top. The barcode matched Boo’s chip ID, and next to it in chicken scratch: “See attached for second pet info.” There was no attachment.

“YOU COWARDS.” Mina angry whispered. “YOU LOOPHOLE-LOVING BUREAUCRATIC COWARDS.” She slammed the drawer shut and returned to the living room, defeated but not destroyed. The dogs, both now fluffy, watched her from opposite ends of the couch.

“You.” she pointed at the unnamed one, “owe me answers.” He blinked once. Boo sneezed. Momo walked in wearing sweatpants and a triumphant grin.

“Look at them. So clean. So furious.” Mina forced a smile. “You do good work.”

Momo dropped onto the couch beside her. “You know what’s crazy? I found this old collar in the back of the closet while looking for the dog towels. I think it was one of his first ones.”

She held it up. Faded, blue leather. Barely legible stitching.

Mina leaned in so fast she almost knocked over Boo.

It said:

“Property of Momo”
And underneath, in what looked like glitter pen:
"Chaos Gremlin #2”

“That’s not a name,” Mina said flatly.

“It’s a legacy.” Momo said.

Operation Copy & Paste – Day 7: Morale declining.
Progress: Boo confirmed.
Lighter dog name: Actively mocking the process.
Momo’s suspicion level: Terrifyingly low (?).
Failed tactic of the day: Memory test.
Hint: Possibly stole a sticky note labeled “Flint” and peed on it.