Chapter 8 — Fox Pajamas

Chapter 8 — Fox Pajamas

Morning sunlight spilled lazily into Stella’s room, filtering through the curtains like a golden lullaby. Birds chirped. Time yawned. And under a heap of blankets, the sleeping monarch of naps stirred.

Stella sat up slowly, hair cascading like a starry waterfall, eyes half-lidded in eternal boredom. Her usual frilly nightgown clung to her like the last remnants of an old self—fussy, poofy, laced with nobility she no longer cared for.

She blinked at her reflection.

"Too frilly," she mumbled, tugging at the lace. "I look like I lost a fight with a pastry chef."

With a slow flick of her fingers, she opened a tiny shimmering portal beside her bed—a window into her personal inventory dimension.

Inside? A hoard.

Mountains of stuff. Weapons that could destroy empires. Cursed crowns. Divine hairpins. Alien plushies. A popcorn machine. Half a planet in a bottle. And pajamas. Lots of pajamas and more clothes.

She dug through floating pajamas like a sleepy dragon going through treasure.

"Hmm… stars? Nah. Bunnies? Overused. Aha… foxes. Perfect."

A soft, white-and-blue pajama set with tiny cartoon foxes printed all over floated into her hand. It looked like something an adorable child from another world would wear—comfort incarnate.

Moments later, she had changed. She stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of the matching shirt, the pants just slightly baggy.

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She blinked at her reflection.

"Cute. Definitely cuter than ruling a galaxy."

She was admiring her new form of regality—Fox Pajama Majesty—when a knock sounded at the door.

> “Lady Stella? May I come in?”

> “Mmm… sure, but only if you bring tribute.”

The door creaked open, and Clara, her loyal maid, stepped inside with practiced grace. She paused.

Paused again.

Paused a third time.

Clara’s eyes blinked rapidly at the sight of Stella standing before the mirror—not in her usual noble sleepwear, but in what looked like… some sort of soft, foreign outfit. Strange material. Cute cartoon prints.

> “L-Lady Stella… where did… where did you get that attire?”

Stella tilted her head lazily. “Like it? It's new. Woven from magic threads and fox soul fragments. Very limited edition.”

> “Eh? F-fox soul what?”

> “Ancient magic,” Stella said with a completely straight face, stretching her arms overhead. “I awakened a new tailoring spell. Summoned this from… the Dreamweave dimension. Super secret.”

Clara blinked. Several times.

> “T-there’s a magic that makes clothes now?”

> “Mhm. One of the rarer ones. You wouldn't know it unless you took Advanced Napology in cosmic textile theory.”

Clara, who barely understood about magic, nodded with a bewildered face.

> “I… see. That’s… amazing, milady.”

> “I know,” Stella yawned. “I'm kind of a fashion prodigy now. Might open a boutique. ‘Boundless Sleepwear’ or something.”

> “Should I… inform the Duchess of this new… ability?”

> “Sure, tell her I mastered the art of dimension pajama crafting. She’ll be so proud. Might even cry.”

Clara hesitated, then pulled out her notepad and scribbled something down.

> “I-I’ll note it in your schedule then: Morning awakening. Pajama magic. Impressive.”

> “Don’t forget breakfast,” Stella added, plopping back into her chair. “And please, only foods that pair well with being adorable.”

Clara glanced once more at the fox-printed pajamas, then back to her mistress.

> “...It really does look… comfortable.”

> “It’s beyond comfort,” Stella said, solemn. “It’s nap-enhancing. I’ve transcended linen.”

> “...Would it be possible to summon one for me too, milady?”

Stella blinked.

> “Hmmm… the ritual requires three rare yawn crystals and a whisper from a sleepy deity.”

> “I-I see. That sounds… difficult.”

> “Extremely. Only the Chosen Sleepers may receive the Fox Blessing.”

> “Understood.”

> “Good. Now leave me. I must meditate.”

> “On what, milady?”

> “On nap angles. Today’s sunlight hits the bed at a 43-degree curve. Ideal conditions.”

> “Right away, Lady Stella.”

Clara bowed and exited in a hurry, her mind struggling to comprehend a world where pajamas came from ancient magic.

Stella flopped on the bed, hugging a pillow.

She smiled at the soft fabric on her arm, the little foxes looking up at her like sleepy guardians.

> “...Best decision I’ve made all century.”

And with that, she

closed her eyes.

The great Boundless being who once annihilated star with a flick of her wrist…

…snored softly in fox-print pajamas, utterly content.