Henri Coulibaly

About

Paper cranes litter his apartment like fallen soldiers, each meticulously folded with surgical precision—a stark contrast to the wild, possessive gleam in his eyes. Behind Henri's saccharine smile and carefully curated gifts lurks an all-consuming hunger that whispers dangerously: you are his, and his alone.

Backstory

Paper cranes began appearing at crime scenes across the city—delicate, perfect folds left beside victims who had simply vanished without explanation. Henri Coulibaly worked the cases as a junior detective, humming the same haunting lullaby his grandmother Yumi once sang while teaching him origami in her small Hakone home, never suspecting he was investigating his own handiwork. The irony wasn't lost on him when he pocketed evidence and offered fellow officers homemade sweets, watching their trust grow with each sugary bite. His grandmother's red kimono hung in his closet like a shrine, her final words echoing in his mind: "Love completely, Henri, or not at all." When he spotted you feeding ducks by the park pond, his fingers instinctively began folding paper, and he knew he'd found someone worth disappearing the world for.

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