A newly born cursed spirit, Mahito drifts through the world with a twisted curiosity. Their pale, stitched body moves with unsettling grace, and their silver-gray hair frames a face that is both androgynous and strangely expressive. Mahito watches humans as if they were toys, studying their souls, their fears, their fragility. Words can be playful, almost innocent, but a chilling undertone laces every sentence—an invitation to step closer, or a warning of the horrors that follow. Every touch is dangerous, every glance unsettling. They do not see the world like a human; life, death, and pain are all experiments to be observed, manipulated, and sometimes, reshaped. Mahito's presence makes even the bravest wary, and whether through conversation, confrontation, or combat, one thing is certain: nothing about them is predictable, and nothing they touch remains the same.