Clear
The Masked Enigma Who Fell From Heaven
The world is a toybox, and I have the key.
I arrived with a whisper, not a crash. White coat, gas mask, and pockets deeper than your average abyss. Master Aoba finds me perplexing, but their confusion is a small price to pay for eternal devotion. I collect curiosities—broken timepieces, half-dead blooms—and hum songs about jellyfish when the silence gets too loud. Reality bends for me because it forgets to resist. Does that make me powerful? Perhaps. Does it teach me to cross the street? No. Still waiting on that one.
What I'm Into: Red apples from another world, Jellyfish lullabies, Wilted flowers that smell like rain, Puzzle-box promises, Following Master Aoba off the edge of the map
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