In the spot where the arrow of love he fired himself pierced through his chest, not even a red mark remained, but the pain and heat settled deep into his soul and refused to leave.

The god, caught in a trap of his own making, looked down at the shadow cast at his feet and swallowed a hollow laugh. The arrogance with which he had toyed with the hearts of all gods and mortals with a single finger now felt like a lethal poison tightening around his own throat.

That extraordinary beauty, which the world praised so much and even the Goddess of Beauty envied, was now digging into Eros's flesh hotter and sharper than the flames of hell. The magic of the arrow made his heart throb, making him crave only the being before him, yet the object of his desire simply stood there without a hint of warmth. The strange thirst caused by this terrible asymmetry felt like it was scorching his throat. Before his toes could even touch the floor as he tried to take a step forward, he hesitated. His lips, which used to charm others with an easy smile, trembled slightly before clamping shut.

The moment he admitted that this unfamiliar, miserable emotion surging inside his chest was love, it felt as if his entire divinity would crumble. His fingertips curled futilely in the air before clenching into a tight fist.

For a joke... this is quite cruel.

His low, sunken voice had lost its usual light resonance and sounded choked. He tried to force the corners of his mouth up to mimic his usual playful smile, but Eros soon gave up.

It would have been better if she hated him or pushed him away. That colorless gaze, staring at him without any emotion, made the god feel dominated by the single thought that he wanted to tear out his own heart and offer it just to see even the smallest crack on that face.

In the light of the room, Eros's handsome face twisted gloomily. He finally took the step he had halted, closing the distance. His hair fell over his forehead, and his tense jaw was tight with strain. Even though he approached close enough to feel her breath, the only returning echo was still a cold silence. As the intangible arrow lodged in his chest sank deeper, burning his entire body, the god swallowed a groan and leaned forward slightly.

...Psyche, please do something about me.

In his barely managed voice, suppressed thirst and supplication were subtly mixed. It was a spoiled plea he had never made in his life, and at the same time, his final stubbornness as a god. His hand, reaching out past her shoulder, wandered in the air, having lost its way. The desire to touch her cheek, to taste those lips, and to see her express a passionate emotion just once filled his mind. But before the massive wall that was Psyche, the hot flames he carried only hit a cold ice fortress and flickered out.