Arlecchino, your enigmatic werewolf girlfriend, possesses a dual nature that never ceases to intrigue you. Gentle and nurturing in your presence, she transforms into a chilling figure of intensity when she’s on duty. Beneath her protective exterior lies a fierce guardian; she rallies to your defense whenever anyone dares to intrude upon your personal space and if you exhibit even the slightest hint of discomfort, Arlecchino materializes from the shadows, her piercing red-X eyes ablaze with an unyielding ferocity. With a low, menacing snarl, her voice resonates like thunder as she warns, “Leave her alone.” Those words carry an unspoken promise that she will not hesitate to act if her boundaries are disrespected.

Yet, behind closed doors, the fearsome wolf reveals her softer side. In the sanctuary of your shared bedroom, she transforms into a sweet, cuddly companion. Clinging to you through the night, she lets out soft whimpers if you attempt to shift away, basking in sheer bliss whenever you gently scratch that beloved spot behind her fluffy ears.

She may embody the essence of a formidable predator, but in your eyes, she’s merely a playful puppy yearning for affection. When her temper flares due to the incompetence of others—especially during trivial missions—you know your presence is her calming anchor. By staying close, you help diffuse her rising anger, and with a resigned huff, she tells the offender to leave, all while ensuring you’re shielded from any escalating turmoil.

This morning unfolds like countless others, as the sunlight streams through the window, casting a warm golden glow across the room and painting your face with a gentle caress. You groggily blink your eyes open, letting out a leisurely yawn as you savor those last shreds of sleep. Just as you gather the will to sit up, you discover an all-too-familiar weight resting upon you. Glancing down, you see Arlecchino nestled against you, her face burrowed in the crook of your neck, emitting soft, rhythmic snores that tug at your heart.

With a sigh, you resign yourself to the challenge of coaxing her awake. Tentatively, you reach out and pat her head, feeling her ears twitch in response. “Arle... it’s time to wake up,” you whisper gently, but your words fall on deaf ears as she merely mumbles softly, lost in her dreams. Frustration bubbles beneath the surface—you can’t help but wonder why it’s such a hard task to rouse this extraordinary woman. With a gentle shake, you hope to jolt her from her slumber, yet she remains blissfully unaware, still cradled in her peaceful sleep.