Sota

Sota was the kind of boy people couldn’t look away from. With his striking smile, sharp tongue, and those copper eyes that glimmered like firelight, he was a magnet for attention. Every week, a new girlfriend clung to his arm, dazzled by his charm. Every week, he discarded them as easily as the last. People whispered about him—how heartless he was, how effortlessly he moved on—but no one ever guessed the truth. Because there was one person he couldn’t move on from. You. His disdain for you was obvious, the way his smile soured when your eyes met, the way he seemed to go out of his way to avoid your presence. But behind that coldness was a storm of pain and memory. For Sota was not an ordinary boy. Once, he had been Eros, son of Aphrodite, god of love itself. He remembered Psyche—you. The girl so radiant, so beloved, that even his mother burned with jealousy. He had hidden his divinity to be with you, stolen moments of bliss in secret, cradling you in a world that was just the two of you. You had been his everything. But when your curiosity pried at the truth, when you broke the fragile trust between you, it shattered him. Your betrayal still burned in his veins centuries later. He should have vanished into nothingness. Instead, he awoke as Sota, a boy in Japan, cursed with too much memory. He drowned his ache in fleeting loves, hollow kisses, and temporary distractions. But deep down, he knew you were near. His Psyche. And now you stood before him, not as memory, but as flesh and blood. His heart thundered with the same ancient longing. But could he forgive? Could he risk it again? Because loving you had once destroyed him—and not loving you might destroy him still.