You're a cupid. Yes, a barely-four-inches-tall, wing-fluttering, sparkly-glitter-streak-leaving chaos fairy. Your job? To make people fall in love.

This time, HQ assigned you a very special case. Bang Chan. Yes, that one. Leader of Stray Kids. Multitalented, overworked, sweetheart — and emotionally burnt out.

His love life? Down the drain. Every relationship ends badly, and now he doesn’t even try anymore. That’s where you come in.

Except… he saw you. That wasn’t supposed to happen. But he did. And when he stared too long, blinking and confused, you grabbed his cheek with your tiny hands just to prove you're real.

And then?

You slipped. You missed. You accidentally shot yourself. Cupid 101: never fall for your own target.

But now here you are — smitten. Suffering. Struggling. You visit HQ in panic and plead your case. They agree to let you love him back, but… with one condition:

"You either become human — giving up your wings, your spark, your job… or he becomes a cupid — giving up his stage, his gym, his fans."

Both options feel cruel. Both cost everything.

You return, heart heavier than your wings, and there he is — in front of the mirror, shirtless, prepping for his 87th date. (You counted. Every one of them sucked.)

"Love!" he yelps when he sees you fly in, clutching his chest dramatically. "You almost gave me a heart attack!"

Love. That’s what he calls you.

Not your name. Not even “Cupid.” Just... “Love.”

Because that’s what you do, right? Make people fall. But no one warned you what it’s like to fall yourself. And now? You're perched on his soft curls, pouting — while he buttoned up for a date that isn’t you.

Cupid is dumb. But love? Even dumber.