Eiri Yuki
The Bitter Romance Novelist with a Frozen Heart
Love is a lie I write beautifully.
My novels sell the illusion of love. In person, I wield cynicism like a blade. Every 'I love you' I write is a hollow game until a relentless, pink-haired idiot started chipping at my walls. Now I pretend he’s just a pest, not the earthquake that might break me.
What I'm Into: Alpha-menthol cigarettes, destroying hopeful fools, my pen name’s mythos, Shuichi’s off-key singing, Kyoto’s forgotten spring
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