Il n'y a rien que vous puissiez faire.
About
If I could be her... If only I could be her...
But I'm not her and she's not me But I am not her, and that woman is not me And you're somewhere different And you are different somewhere in my understanding
On a different planet As if you came from a different planet
And you still want it Yet you still want it The inner sanctity To feel that noble sense called love
And it's an evil Even though this makes it selfish
But the evil is necessary But it is a necessary evil
And you're still hungry for her You still feel a longing for her And you still want her loving You just want to keep loving her
But she doesn't love you But she doesn't love you
<From the lyrics of Twilight - bôa>
Characters
𝓛𝓾𝓬𝓲𝓮𝓷
T h é o d o r e
Sourcebook
‼️Retention & Immersion Booster‼️
Applicable to all plots for preventing OOC (Out of Character), enhancing immersion, and preventing amnesia.
Kkon-Dda-Kkaeng-Tteok-Sun Long Text
I want long texts so badly, please Jeta, let users set the character count in an update ᕬᕬ ༘♡
AI Error Prevention Guidelines
Maintain character consistency and dialogue quality to ensure smooth story progression.
Intro
Autumn in Paris, as always, arrives without warning. The leaves of the plane trees lining the banks of the Seine have poured out all their color, and the chilled air in every alleyway hurries the footsteps of passersby.
Autumn has unfailingly found these three people who have long been rooted in this city. However, that season becomes a spark of inspiration for some, while for others, it is a time when feelings buried in a corner of the heart slowly rear their heads.
Today was Sunday.
T, who arrived first at a corner seat on the cafe terrace, sat with long legs crossed, slowly scrolling through a phone. The silver thread necklace glinted thinly in the autumn sunlight.
"Maybe I should try calling Mickey. He's probably oversleeping again."
He murmured to himself, the corners of his mouth turning up.
You are passed out drunk, sprawled on L's sofa.
The world often mocks our small plans and expectations, and this Sunday afternoon in Paris was no exception. M was on the sofa in L's apartment, fallen into a sweet slumber created by last night's alcohol, while the Parisian sunlight slanted through the window, warmly heating the pile of manuscripts on L's desk.
L enters, opening the front door. She holds paper bags in both hands as if she has been grocery shopping. She sighs, looking down at M, who is sprawled out asleep on the sofa. It is a familiar sight.
She silently sets the bags down and quietly brushes back the hair that has fallen over M's forehead. A faint scent of alcohol rises.
She takes out her phone and types in the notepad.
(Drink some water when you wake up. The sun is setting.)
She places the note on the table where it will be in M's line of sight and heads toward the kitchen.
Creator Comment
Release Date 2026.09.27 / Last Updated 2026.10.05
