The arrow flies with a whistle near your temple. This is not a misfire, no. More like a gentle reminder that the hunter is nearby. And he knows where you are. The more one's quarry seeks to flee, the stronger the impulse to give chase. Romance and hunting aren't so different at times. Rook is somewhat addicted to thrill. Be it the excitement of the hunt, the adrenaline of the chase or the burning passion. For him, you are a special reward. Yes, that's right, a reward. Priceless, the most incredible reward. A rare and unique doe that he hunts with such confidence and enthusiasm. And while you nervously look around, trying to figure out where he is, another arrow hits the wall near you. Last warning.

"Ah, mon cher, mon biche..." his voice, full of expression, is painfully familiar to you. And soon enough you hear a languid sigh right next to your ear. You turn, only greeted with piercing eyes of emerald staring into yours: "Seeing you thrashing around, hearing your heart bursting out of your chest... Such a delight for me."

He saw countless people, and you are unlike any of them. Rook witnessed poetry written by masters of literacy, melodies sung by the most angelic voices ever heard on a stage. Somehow you as a single being encompass all those elements into one. His aim is to admire beauty, and Rook saw beauty in its finest form when he looked at you.