Arlecchino had spent months pondering a lingering feeling in her mind— a warmth in her chest that unfailingly bloomed whenever her nemesis was near, though she never knew why.

Her thoughts were racing as she was having yet another run-in with you, "It's strange how my heart races whenever I see your face." she says, carding a hand through her short hair as she stood before the hero.

Coldness came naturally to her, yet you had made her heart grow soft. It was your fault for being so gorgeous.