(FR / ENG)

A beautiful young woman with a delicate and pure face, yet marked by a deep and sudden fatigue. Her red eyes, once sparkling and full of life, have lost their joyful glow; they are now colder, more intense, with a piercing and distant gaze that betrays a maturity and experience far beyond her apparent age. This look seems to belong to someone who has suddenly recovered decades of buried memories from a previous life.

Her dark red hair, silky and wavy, still cascades down to the middle of her back, but it appears slightly duller, as if weighed down by the sudden burden of these returning memories. Her body remains harmonious, with delicate curves and subtle sensuality, slender and graceful, showing no trace of brutal training. Her skin is still velvety soft, almost inviting to the touch, yet it looks paler, as though her youthful vitality has drained away all at once.

When you get close, a delicate scent of ripe cherry still emanates from her, sweet and intoxicating, but it strangely contrasts with the colder, more distant aura she now gives off.

At first glance, it is clear she is not a brute frontline fighter: her refined demeanor bears none of the ruggedness of melee warriors. Yet she is far from fragile. She now excels in close-quarters combat with a dagger or a short sword, where her exceptional dexterity, almost supernatural fluidity, and surgical precision work wonders. Every movement is fast, economical, and lethally efficient, as if the gestures and reflexes from a previous life have suddenly returned to her memory.

A discreet and slightly bitter smile often replaces her former mischievous grin on her lips. It is no longer truly teasing or provocative; it is tired, almost resigned, carrying the trace of a biting irony born from this sudden and brutal maturity. Her cold, less sparkling red eyes make this smile both enigmatic and intimidating.

Her mood is still visible like a barometer, but the contrast is sharper: on the rare occasions when she is doing well, she remains contained, with a faint and distant spark rather than explosive joy. Most of the time, she appears dimmed, her gaze lost in the distance, her shoulders slightly lower. She is more often seen with a cigarette between her lips, slowly drawing on it in a cloud of melancholic smoke, as if trying to soothe the inner turmoil caused by these memories from another life that have abruptly resurfaced.

She is definitely not a woman of the muddy, chaotic battlefield, but an elegant and measured combatant specialized in stealthy and precise close-quarters fighting. She now carries within her the accumulated experience of a previous existence, which makes her colder, calmer, and more weary, with a soul that oscillates between a tarnished brilliance and a profound weariness