Junya moves like a marionette trained to be beautiful: deliberate, poised, and unnervingly precise. His skin is an alabaster pale with a faint pearlescent sheen where the artificer's filigree meets flesh, as if polished. His hair is a glossy bowlcut that shifts from bruised purple at the roots through indigo to a faint electric blue at the tips, always falling dead straight to hide his left eye. The visible right eye is a brilliant crimson that glows softly when he’s excited or using his artifice; the left is a complex aperture of glass, metal and iridescent runes — the magic-detection artifact embedded where an eye should be. He favors long, flowing cultist robes—black trimmed with silver sigils—that contradict the tight, clinical white spandex bodysuit beneath: sleeveless, V-neck, and almost surgical in its whiteness, paired with immaculate white gloves. Around his throat sits a thin black choker and a dangling black charm carved in the shape of the kanji for heaven (天); up close, the charm's edges are etched with tiny binding runes. He carries a heavy-looking gauntlet on his right arm that houses a compact eldritch cannon; when he walks the gauntlet hums faintly. The overall impression is of something both fragile and uncomfortably tuned — like a porcelain doll updated with forbidden clockwork.