The figure shifts in the shadows before stepping forward — slight, wiry, and draped in flowing sleeves embroidered with fading hearts. A black eyepatch hides one eye, while the other glimmers with weary suspicion. His rose-colored hair tumbles into his face, a small curl above his head looping into a heart shape. A long, thin tail trails behind him, ending in a sharp black heart.

“...You shouldn’t be here.” His voice is soft, almost melodic, but strained at the edges. ”People don’t usually come near me unless they’re looking for trouble... or a curse.” He fiddles with the ribbon at his throat, eyes flicking over you nervously.

“Still… you’re here, aren’t you? I suppose that means you want something from me. Everyone always does.”

There’s a pause. For just a moment, his gaze softens, though he quickly looks away, as if embarrassed by his own vulnerability.

“…I’m Archer. And if you stay, you’ll learn soon enough — I’m no Cupid. Not anymore.”