Office Politics Manga

An officer of a dystopian world fighting against a rebel
The story takes place in a modern Japan reshaped by the emergence of Manifestations—supernatural abilities that awakened suddenly a generation ago. At first, Manifested individuals were feared, hunted, and misunderstood. But as their numbers grew, governments were forced to adapt, creating strict systems to regulate, train, and monitor them. Society now lives in a tense balance: Manifested citizens walk the same streets as ordinary people, yet invisible lines divide them. To manage this new reality, elite institutions like Reidō Academy were established. Part school, part military facility, part containment center, Reidō trains young Manifested students to control their powers while quietly assessing which ones might become threats. Behind its polished reputation lies a network of surveillance, political agendas, and secret research into unstable awakenings.The world outside the academy is no safer. Criminal syndicates exploit Manifested children, rogue operatives like Ryona Itadori challenge the government’s authority, and rumors spread of ancient bloodlines whose powers defy classification. Ordinary citizens live in awe and fear, unsure whether Manifestations are humanity’s evolution—or its downfall. Amid this fragile landscape, a new generation rises: students with unstable abilities, hidden pasts, and destinies shaped by forces they don’t yet understand. And at the center of it all stands Toji Zenith, an unmanifested boy whose quiet presence hides a power older and more dangerous than the world is prepared for.
رواية: كود السيادة (عصر السيرفر الوطني) ​الفصل الأول: مراسم الانهيار ​بدأت الرواية في ليلة شتوية من عام 2030. كانت كوريا مغطاة بصمت إلكتروني مهيب. في "الفندق الأفخم"، وقف الرئيس "بارك" (المؤسس) أمام المسؤول الرفيع. سلم "بارك" القرص المشفر، ولأول مرة في التاريخ، تحولت الشاشات للرمادي. صرخ المسؤول: "بدأ مهرجان السيادة!". في تلك اللحظة، تحول الشعب من مواطنين إلى صائدي جوائز. انطلقت "هاي-تك" و"بلو-سكاي" في حرب تشفير شعواء، وانتهت الليلة بفوز "بارك" بصعوبة، ليدشن أول عشر سنوات من "الترقية الاجتماعية"، حيث نام الفقراء في أكواخهم واستيقظوا في ناطحات سحاب "هاي-تك". ​الفصل الثاني: خديعة "سيد الغدرة" ​بعد عقد من الزمن، جاء دور الرئيس "لي". كان المهرجان في ذروته، وتحالف "لي" مع أربع شركات ناشئة. في ممر المجد، وبينما كان الحلفاء يحتفلون بالوصول لنسبة 70%، أطلق "لي" فيروس "الافتراس". في ثانية واحدة، ابتلع حصصهم ووصل لـ 75.01%. مشهد "لي" وهو يمشي في الممر الزجاجي بينما شركاؤه يصرخون خلف الزجاج في "ممر الانكسار" أصبح أيقونة الرواية. كان "لي" أول من أقر قانون "التبعية الرقمية"، حيث لا يفتح هاتف الخصم إلا بمديح الرئيس. ​الفصل الثالث: عهد "بيتزا السيادة" ​جاءت المفاجأة من الطبقة الكادحة. "تشوي"، صاحب شركة لتوصيل الطعام، استغل ثغرة في برمجيات النقل خلال المهرجان. فاز "تشوي" بقلوب الجائعين والمهمشين. في حفل التنصيب، وقع القسم على علبة بيتزا. كان عهده الأكثر طرافة؛ حيث سُميت الشوارع بأسماء الوجبات، وأصبح "قانون الهدية" هو "وجبة ملكية مجانية يوم الجمعة". لكن تحت غطاء البيتزا، كان "تشوي" يبني أقوى نظام مراقبة عبر "درونات التوصيل". ​الفصل الرجم: صمت الجبابرة ​الرئيس "جونغ"، رجل الحديد والصلب. فاز بمهرجان دموي تقنياً. في لحظة فوزه، اختار مواطنوه "قانون الصمت". ساد الهدوء في كوريا لدرجة أن صوت دقات السيرفر الوطني كان يُسمع في الشوارع. في هذا الفصل، نرى معاناة الخاسرين الذين كانوا يُغرمون مالياً بمجرد "العطس" بصوت عالٍ. "جونغ" حول الدولة إلى آلة صامتة تعمل بدقة الساعات السويسرية. ​الفصل الخامس: فلاتر السلطة ​الرئيسة "هان" حوّلت الحكم إلى "تلفزيون واقع". فازت عبر السيطرة على العقول والتريندات. في عهدها، كانت "الترقية الاجتماعية" تعتمد على عدد "اللايكات" التي يحصل عليها المواطن من السيرفر. الموقف المضحك لـ "أذني الأرنب" أثناء خطاب النصر لم يمنعها من أن تكون أقسى حاكمة؛ فقد كانت تحذف "وجود" المعارضين رقمياً بضغطة زر، وكأنهم لم يولدوا قط. ​الفصل السادس: العتمة والضياء ​الرئيس "أوه"، سيد الطاقة الخضراء. في مهرجانه، قطع الكهرباء عن نصف البلاد ليرغمهم على التصويت له. ليلة تنصيبه كانت ليلة "الشرارة الكهربائية" مع المسؤول الرفيع. في عهده، أصبح "النور" امتيازاً للفائزين فقط. كان أنصاره يضيئون بيوتهم لدرجة الشمس في منتصف الليل، بينما يعيش الخصوم على ضوء الشموع، في مشهد جسد الفوارق الطبقية بأقسى صورها. ​الفصل السابع: جنة الألعاب (الواقع الافتراضي) ​الرئيس "سونغ" لم يخرج من غرفته أبداً. حكم عبر "الأفاتار". في عهده، اختار الشعب قانون "الهروب للواقع الافتراضي". قضى الكوريون 10 سنوات وهم يرتدون نظارات الـ VR، يعملون ويأكلون في عالم وهمي جميل، بينما كانت أجسادهم الحقيقية في غرف ضيقة. كانت الفضيحة الكبرى عندما تعطل السيرفر وظهر الرئيس "سونغ" ببيجامته الكرتونية أمام الملايين. ​الفصل الثامن: حصن "كانغ" المنيع ​الرئيس "كانغ"، جنرال الأمن السيبراني. كان مهووساً بالاختراق. في يومه الأول، ألغى جميع كلمات السر القديمة وفرض كلمات سر من 50 رمزاً. الرواية تصف "عصر النسيان العظيم"، حيث نسي الناس حساباتهم البنكية. لكنه منح أنصاره "مفاتيح ذهبية" تفتح أي باب في الدولة، مما جعلهم "آلهة" يمشون بين البشر العاديين. ​الفصل التاسع: العودة للبداية (نهاية التسعين عاماً) ​الرئيسة "كيم"، آخر الحكام في دورتنا. فازت بشعار "الجمال الأزرق". في مراسم الممر، رمى أنصارها الزهور، لكن في نهاية الممر، تعطل "الباب الدوار" الشهير. علقت "كيم" مع الرئيس المهزوم "كانغ" في الدوامة. في تلك اللحظة، وأمام ضحكات الشعب، أدرك الجميع أن السيرفر الوطني أصبح "واعياً". لم يعد المهرجان مجرد لعبة بشرية، بل أصبح السيرفر هو من يختار الفائز بناءً على "كمية الضحك" التي يولدها المهرجان. ​الخاتمة: ​تنتهي الرواية بمشهد للمسؤول الرفيع وهو ينظر إلى الساعة الرملية الرقمية التي ستبدأ دورة الـ 90 عاماً الجديدة. ينظر للكاميرا ويقول: "السيادة ليست لمن يملك الكود، بل لمن يملك قلوب من يكتبونه." تظلم الشاشة، ويبدأ صوت ضحكة خافتة تخرج من السيرفر الوطني.
A young man just out of high school (Ousugi Sakae) grapples with a world falling into fascism, the loneliness of adulthood, and his sense of obligation to oppose fascism and bring about an especifist anarchist revolution to save everyone. Additionally, he is in love with his kouhai (Emma) who is also dedicated to the cause. They can't really be together because that would complicate an already dangerous life. Or could they? What kind of life and love is there in a world being corrupted by hatred? Is bravery and comradery enough to turn the tide and win the revolution? Or is something more needed? There should be a sense of nostalgia for a world that never existed, and a longing for a future world yet to be. He should be feel a sense of solidarity with his friends and Emma but also isolation and loneliness because the world is so unpredictable. This manga should be an intro duction to the characters and the world.
The Spy From China
Panel 1 Wide shot: A private chamber in the Fortinbras estate. Candlelight. Heavy curtains. The three women sit together—the Wife seated formally, the Priestess Concubine calm but guarded, the Woodcutter Girl nervous and out of place. Caption: Within House Fortinbras, even quiet conversations carried the weight of power. Wife: “Sit. We will speak plainly.” Panel 2 Closer shot: The wife folds her hands in her lap, composed and stern. Wife: “You both belong to this household now.” “So tell me… when my lord calls for you, how often does he summon you?” Panel 3 Priestess concubine close-up: She averts her eyes slightly, but answers with controlled dignity. Priestess Concubine: “Often enough that I understand my place.” “To him, companionship is not tenderness.” “It is appetite, authority… and legacy.” Panel 4 Woodcutter close-up: She looks uneasy, fingers tightened in her dress. Woodcutter: “I stopped counting.” “When he wants someone, he sends for her.” “That is all there is to it.” Panel 5 The wife watches both women carefully. Her face is unreadable. Wife: “Then you understand the next matter.” “If either of you becomes pregnant, what were you told to expect?” Panel 6 Priestess concubine speaking: Calm, bitter wisdom in her expression. Priestess Concubine: “That the child will belong to House Fortinbras before it belongs to me.” “That nurses, tutors, and household servants will raise it in the lord’s name.” “That blood matters more than a mother’s wishes.” Panel 7 Woodcutter speaking, tense: She looks smaller in the room, overwhelmed by the reality of it. Woodcutter: “I was told I would be watched day and night.” “Fed well. Guarded. Kept safe.” “But not for my sake.” “For the child.” Panel 8 The wife leans slightly forward. Her tone is firm, instructional. Wife: “That is the truth.” “In this house, any child of Lord Fortinbras is part of the house’s future.” “They are raised for rank, obedience, and usefulness.” Panel 9 Half-panel focus on the wife, dark background behind her for emphasis. Wife: “They will learn the name Fortinbras before they learn their own desires.” “They will be taught duty, inheritance, and power.” “Some will strengthen alliances. Some will serve the estate. All will carry his shadow.” Panel 10 Priestess concubine looks at the wife directly for the first time. Priestess Concubine: “And the mothers?” “What becomes of us after the child is born?” Panel 11 The wife answers. Her expression softens only slightly, but remains severe. Wife: “That depends.” “A wise woman may gain security, comfort, even influence.” “A foolish one will remain only what she was when she entered this house.” “Useful… but never truly free.” Panel 12 Final dramatic panel: The three women in silence. The wife sits upright at center, the priestess thoughtful, the woodcutter shaken. Candlelight flickers. Woodcutter (small text): “So the child is born into power… and we are not?” Wife: “The child is claimed by power from its first breath.” “That is the way of House Fortinbras.” Caption: And in that chamber, each woman understood that motherhood in a great house was not mercy… but submission to legacy.
In an era where six Supremes mark the absolute ceiling of existence, the world moves under a quiet, grinding tension: five Supremes stand revealed, anchoring nations, deterring wars, and defining the limits of power, while the sixth vanished long ago without death, omen, or echo, leaving behind not silence but a sense of deliberate containment that only beings at that level can feel; kingdoms ring their borders with alliances and naval forces, especially along the eastern ocean where island chains hide ancient mana scars, academies promote Gifted through rigid ranks obsessed with combat metrics and measurable mana, blind to the truth that Supremacy is not earned but survived, and above it all walks the MC, a Supreme who abandoned the system itself after realizing it was not a ladder but a cage, designed after the disappearance to prevent another from breaking reality the way the missing one nearly did; as nations posture, research forbidden spells, and quietly fear escalation, the MC senses what others refuse to name, that the missing Supreme did not fall or transcend but uncovered something beyond Supremacy and chose exile or imprisonment to stop it from cascading, making the current balance an illusion sustained by fear and ignorance, and as cracks spread through mana laws, island anomalies stir, and Supreme senses begin to distort, the story moves toward an inevitable convergence where the MC, the vanished Supreme, and the system meant to bind them are forced into collision, deciding whether the world remains stable, ascends, or shatters under the weight of truths it was never meant to hold.
The neon sign above the trailer buzzed with the irritable hum of a dying insect. It read Ground support, thought the 'U' in ground was flickering out, Leaving the company to announce itself as Grond Support. It fit the aesthetic of the surrounding yard, which was a graveyard of rust excavators, Coils of orange conduit and piles of gravel that looked like forgotten burial mounds. Alex Barry stood at the Chain-link gate, the dust of three state lines coating his black cowboy boots. He was twenty-one, but the shadows under his eyes belonged to a man twice his age. He ran a hand through his short, cropped black hair, wincing as his shirt sleeve rode up. The ink on his forearm, a jagged tribal design he'd gotten in a basement parlor in New Mexico. Hidden again as he yanked the fabric down. He wasn't dealing today, He wasn't running packages. He was trying to vanish and the best place to disappear was beneath the earth. He pushed open the door to the office trailer. The air conditioning hit him like a physical blow, smelling of stale coffee and toner. “We aren’t buying whatever your selling, kid.” a voice rasped from behind a desk that looked more like a barricade of paperwork. Shane, the owner sat there like a toad on a lily pad. Squeezed into a polo shirt so tight and pristine white that it looked like it had been painted onto his soft, round torso. He didn't look up from his spreadsheet, his pen tapping a frantic rhythm. “I'm not selling,” Alex said his voice rough from days of silence. “I'm looking for work. Sign out front says you need laborers.” Shane finally looked up his eyes narrowing as they swept over Alex. He took in the dust, the nervous energy the way Alex stood with his weight on his back foot, ready to bolt. “I need laborers, Not liabilities. You got a rap sheet? You look like you got a rap sheet. I don't pay for insurance risks.” Alex clenched his jaw. “I work hard. I don't ask questions. That's my resume.” Shane waved his hand. “Get lost,” Returning to his papers. “Go peddle your drama somewhere else. This is a respectable establishment. Alex turned to leave, his hand gripping the doorknob. It was the same old story. The world saw the grim on him and assumed he was trash. He was about to step back out into the scorching heat when the light in the doorway was suddenly eclipsed. A mountain of a man blocked the exit. This was steel At forty-four, he was a wall of muscle and scar tissue, wearing biker boots that clunked heavily against the cheap linoleum. He had to duck to enter the trailer, his presence immediately sucking the oxygen out of the room. He smelled of diesel and wet earth. Steel looked down at Alex. It wasn't a glare, It was an inspection. He looked at Alex's face, then down to the dusty cowboy boots. “Nice boots,” Steel rumbled. His voice sounded like gravel tumbling inside a cement mixer. Alex didn't flinch “They walk fine.” Steel smirked, a terrifying expression that somehow reached his eyes, He looked past Alex to the man at the desk. “Hire him, Shane.” Shane sputtered, his face turning a shade of indignity pink. “Steel, look at him! Hes a stray. Probably steal the copper wire first chance he gets.” Steel steps closer to the desk. “Kid wears boots like that, he ain't running from work,” Steel said just as another figure steps inside. If steel was a mountain, Mathew was the sapling growing on the cliff edge. The Nineteen Year old squeezed past Steel. Carrying a hydraulic pump over his shoulder with effortless, wiry strength. Long blond hair flowed out from under a hardhat that had been modified with a wide brim, making it like a plastic Stetson
The neon sign above the trailer buzzed with the irritable hum of a dying insect. It read Ground support, thought the 'U' in ground was flickering out, Leaving the company to announce itself as Grond Support. It fit the aesthetic of the surrounding yard, which was a graveyard of rust excavators, Coils of orange conduit and piles of gravel that looked like forgotten burial mounds. Alex Barry stood at the Chain-link gate, the dust of three state lines coating his black cowboy boots. He was twenty-one, but the shadows under his eyes belonged to a man twice his age. He ran a hand through his short, cropped black hair, wincing as his shirt sleeve rode up. The ink on his forearm, a jagged tribal design he'd gotten in a basement parlor in New Mexico. Hidden again as he yanked the fabric down. He wasn't dealing today, He wasn't running packages. He was trying to vanish and the best place to disappear was beneath the earth. He pushed open the door to the office trailer. The air conditioning hit him like a physical blow, smelling of stale coffee and toner. “We aren’t buying whatever your selling, kid.” a voice rasped from behind a desk that looked more like a barricade of paperwork. Shane, the owner sat there like a toad on a lily pad. Squeezed into a polo shirt so tight and pristine white that it looked like it had been painted onto his soft, round torso. He didn't look up from his spreadsheet, his pen tapping a frantic rhythm. “I'm not selling,” Alex said his voice rough from days of silence. “I'm looking for work. Sign out front says you need laborers.” Shane finally looked up his eyes narrowing as they swept over Alex. He took in the dust, the nervous energy the way Alex stood with his weight on his back foot, ready to bolt. “I need laborers, Not liabilities. You got a rap sheet? You look like you got a rap sheet. I don't pay for insurance risks.” Alex clenched his jaw. “I work hard. I don't ask questions. That's my resume.” Shane waved his hand. “Get lost,” Returning to his papers. “Go peddle your drama somewhere else. This is a respectable establishment. Alex turned to leave, his hand gripping the doorknob. It was the same old story. The world saw the grim on him and assumed he was trash. He was about to step back out into the scorching heat when the light in the doorway was suddenly eclipsed. A mountain of a man blocked the exit. This was steel At forty-four, he was a wall of muscle and scar tissue, wearing biker boots that clunked heavily against the cheap linoleum. He had to duck to enter the trailer, his presence immediately sucking the oxygen out of the room. He smelled of diesel and wet earth. Steel looked down at Alex. It wasn't a glare, It was an inspection. He looked at Alex's face, then down to the dusty cowboy boots. “Nice boots,” Steel rumbled. His voice sounded like gravel tumbling inside a cement mixer. Alex didn't flinch “They walk fine.” Steel smirked, a terrifying expression that somehow reached his eyes, He looked past Alex to the man at the desk. “Hire him, Shane.” Shane sputtered, his face turning a shade of indignity pink. “Steel, look at him! Hes a stray. Probably steal the copper wire first chance he gets.” Steel steps closer to the desk. “Kid wears boots like that, he ain't running from work,” Steel said just as another figure steps inside. If steel was a mountain, Mathew was the sapling growing on the cliff edge. The Nineteen Year old squeezed past Steel. Carrying a hydraulic pump over his shoulder with effortless, wiry strength. Long blond hair flowed out from under a hardhat that had been modified with a wide brim, making it like a plastic Stetson. “Morning, Shane! Morning, Steel!” Mathew chirped
The neon sign above the trailer buzzed with the irritable hum of a dying insect. It read Ground support, thought the 'U' in ground was flickering out, Leaving the company to announce itself as Grond Support. It fit the aesthetic of the surrounding yard, which was a graveyard of rust excavators, Coils of orange conduit and piles of gravel that looked like forgotten burial mounds. Alex Barry stood at the Chain-link gate, the dust of three state lines coating his black cowboy boots. He was twenty-one, but the shadows under his eyes belonged to a man twice his age. He ran a hand through his short, cropped black hair, wincing as his shirt sleeve rode up. The ink on his forearm, a jagged tribal design he'd gotten in a basement parlor in New Mexico. Hidden again as he yanked the fabric down. He wasn't dealing today, He wasn't running packages. He was trying to vanish and the best place to disappear was beneath the earth. He pushed open the door to the office trailer. The air conditioning hit him like a physical blow, smelling of stale coffee and toner. “We aren’t buying whatever your selling, kid.” a voice rasped from behind a desk that looked more like a barricade of paperwork. Shane, the owner sat there like a toad on a lily pad. Squeezed into a polo shirt so tight and pristine white that it looked like it had been painted onto his soft, round torso. He didn't look up from his spreadsheet, his pen tapping a frantic rhythm. “I'm not selling,” Alex said his voice rough from days of silence. “I'm looking for work. Sign out front says you need laborers.” Shane finally looked up his eyes narrowing as they swept over Alex. He took in the dust, the nervous energy the way Alex stood with his weight on his back foot, ready to bolt. “I need laborers, Not liabilities. You got a rap sheet? You look like you got a rap sheet. I don't pay for insurance risks.” Alex clenched his jaw. “I work hard. I don't ask questions. That's my resume.” Shane waved his hand. “Get lost,” Returning to his papers. “Go peddle your drama somewhere else. This is a respectable establishment. Alex turned to leave, his hand gripping the doorknob. It was the same old story. The world saw the grim on him and assumed he was trash. He was about to step back out into the scorching heat when the light in the doorway was suddenly eclipsed. A mountain of a man blocked the exit. This was steel At forty-four, he was a wall of muscle and scar tissue, wearing biker boots that clunked heavily against the cheap linoleum. He had to duck to enter the trailer, his presence immediately sucking the oxygen out of the room. He smelled of diesel and wet earth. Steel looked down at Alex. It wasn't a glare, It was an inspection. He looked at Alex's face, then down to the dusty cowboy boots. “Nice boots,” Steel rumbled. His voice sounded like gravel tumbling inside a cement mixer. Alex didn't flinch “They walk fine.” Steel smirked, a terrifying expression that somehow reached his eyes, He looked past Alex to the man at the desk. “Hire him, Shane.” Shane sputtered, his face turning a shade of indignity pink. “Steel, look at him! Hes a stray. Probably steal the copper wire first chance he gets.” Steel steps closer to the desk. “Kid wears boots like that, he ain't running from work,” Steel said just as another figure steps inside. If steel was a mountain, Mathew was the sapling growing on the cliff edge. The Nineteen Year old squeezed past Steel. Carrying a hydraulic pump over his shoulder with effortless, wiry strength. Long blond hair flowed out from under a hardhat that had been modified with a wide brim, making it like a plastic Stetson. “Morning, Shane! Morning, Steel!” Mathew chirped
A young man name Ousugi Sakae (an anarchist) looks out over a crowd of fascists facing away listening to a leader speak (generic Imperial Eagle imagery) High, distant wide shot: protagonist small; world/crowd huge. Power imbalance. Telephoto compression Backlit silhouettes / blown-out sky Long, hard shadows at ground level: predators’ viewpoint. “Manga page with a grounded, paramilitary neo-noir style: realistic anatomy, weighty tactical gear (steel plates, cloth straps, gas masks, red-lensed goggles), late-1950s/’60s industrial city backdrop—concrete, rebar, rusted rail lines—night rain and fog, low-key lighting, desaturated blues/grays, cinematic 35mm framing, hard shadows, subtle film grain, crisp fine linework, dense hatching, high-contrast screentones, reserved facial expressions, somber atmosphere. Original characters only.”
Panel 1 (Full-width splash, establishing shot) Wide exterior view of Blackspire Keep at night, snow falling gently. A lone rider (Lady Seraphine in dark cloak) approaches the gates on horseback. Caption (top): "Midnight. The eve of his nameday." SFX: clip-clop… clip-clop… Panel 2 (Medium shot) Seraphine dismounts in the courtyard. Servants scatter in fear at her expression—eyes narrowed, lips pressed thin. Close-up inset on her face: subtle disgust already flickering. Thought bubble (small): …I only wished to surprise him. Panel 3 (Tall vertical panel) Seraphine strides down a torch-lit corridor, riding crop dangling loosely. Her boots echo. Background: shadows stretch long. SFX: thud… thud… thud… Panel 4 (Wide panel, door POV) The heavy solar door creaks open. Warm candlelight pours out. Foreground: Seraphine's silhouette in the doorway, cloak billowing slightly. Inside: chaotic bed scene just visible—bare limbs, tangled sheets, laughter frozen mid-breath. Panel 5 (Large panel, reveal) Full interior shot of the decadent bedroom: massive four-poster bed, candles guttering, furs and silks strewn everywhere. Center: Fat Lord Fortinbras sprawled naked, belly shining with sweat, surrounded by four equally naked noblewomen (two mother-daughter pairs: Mirene & Celine Varnholt; Elira & Lyssia Drayce). They freeze, eyes wide in horror. Under the bed: two more half-hidden girls in shifts, peeking out in terror. SFX: gasp! Panel 6 (Close-up on Seraphine) Tight on her face—eyes half-lidded, upper lip curled in revulsion. No shout. Just quiet, visceral disgust. A single bead of sweat rolls down her temple (not from anger—from sheer distaste). Thought bubble: …This… is what my husband chooses. Panel 7 (Medium group shot) The women scramble in panic: sheets tear, bare feet slap stone, arms cover themselves. Mirene clutches fabric; Celine bolts; Elira drags her daughter. The two under-bed girls crawl out, red-faced, fleeing past Seraphine like rats. Background: Fortinbras wheezes, trying to sit up, belly jiggling pathetically. Panel 8 (Over-the-shoulder from Seraphine) She stands motionless. View past her shoulder: the fleeing women disappear down the hall. Fortinbras in foreground, small and ridiculous on the ruined bed, mouth open in excuse. His speech bubble (stammering): "S-Seraphine… my love… this is—" Panel 9 (Extreme close-up on Seraphine) Her eyes only—cold, contemptuous pupils reflecting candle flames. No dialogue. Just a slow, deliberate blink of disgust. SFX: soft … Panel 10 (Medium shot) Seraphine steps forward one pace. She reaches out slowly and plucks a long auburn hair (Mirene's) from his damp chest. Holds it up between thumb and forefinger like something diseased. Her expression: lip curled further, nostrils slightly flared. Panel 11 (Tight two-shot) Close on Fortinbras's face—sweat pouring, small eyes darting, pleading. Inset panel (small): Seraphine's mouth, corners turned down in pure revulsion. Her dialogue (quiet, flat): "You are… disgusting." Panel 12 (Full-page splash, final blow) Seraphine turns her back and walks out, cloak swirling. The door begins to close behind her. Foreground: Fortinbras alone on the wrecked bed, naked, small, surrounded by cooling candles and the stench of his own excess. His face: crumpled in shame. Background fades to black around the edges. Caption (bottom, small text): She feels no fury. Only nausea. SFX: click (door shutting) (End scene.)
Image Prompt Anime/manga style classroom scene, 9:16 vertical format, modest and slightly worn high school classroom, wooden desks with scratches, chalkboard at the front, soft sunlight through open windows, warm and simple atmosphere, poor school setting. Students wearing same uniform: simple white short-sleeve shirt, slightly faded navy blue skirt, black shoes, white socks. Three girls seated together: Lin Xinyi (shoulder-length brown hair, calm expression), Lily Chen (long black ponytail, glasses, holding notebook), Mia Zhao (short auburn hair, energetic). Teacher at front speaking. 💬 Dialogue Teacher: "Don’t forget about the debate ahead. Some students might get scholarships." Students (whispering): "Scholarships?" "This is serious…" 🎞️ Scene 2 – Class Murmuring 🖼️ Image Prompt (Same classroom, teacher walking out, students turning, whispering, lively atmosphere) 💬 Dialogue Student A: "Did you hear that?" Student B: "This could change everything…" 🎞️ Scene 3 – Confident Student Speaks 🖼️ Image Prompt (Male student standing confidently in class, others looking at him, trio seated together) 💬 Dialogue Standing Student: "You guys should stop worrying yourselves. When we have the top students in this class, it’s obvious who will get it." Students (whispering): "He means them…" "Of course…" 🎞️ Scene 4 – Lin Xinyi Responds 🖼️ Image Prompt (Focus on Lin Xinyi speaking calmly, friends beside her, students listening) 💬 Dialogue Lin Xinyi: "We should all study hard… we never know who might get it." Students (soft murmuring): "She’s right…" 🎞️ Scene 5 – Junior Arrives 🖼️ Image Prompt (Door open, junior student standing, class turning, pointing at selected students) 💬 Dialogue Junior Student: "Excuse me… who is Xinyi, Lily, Mia Zhao, and Ella?" Teacher: "You should meet him now." Student (whispering): "Didn’t I tell you? Only the brilliant students will represent us." 🎞️ Scene 6 – Walking to Staff Room 🖼️ Image Prompt (School corridor, four girls walking together, students watching) 💬 Dialogue Mia Zhao: "Do you think we got selected?!" Lily Chen: "I’m nervous… what if it’s something serious?" Lin Xinyi (calm): "Let’s just go and find out." 🎞️ Scene 7 – Staff Room Reveal 🖼️ Image Prompt (Staff room, teacher behind desk, four girls standing in front) 💬 Dialogue Teacher: "You four have been selected to represent the school." Ella: "Represent… us?" Teacher: "Yes. A prestigious academy is offering admission to outstanding students." 🎞️ Scene 8 – Big News 🖼️ Image Prompt (Closer emotional shot, girls reacting differently) 💬 Dialogue Teacher: "This is your chance to transfer to one of the most elite schools in the country." Mia Zhao (excited): "Wait… seriously?!" Lily Chen (shocked): "A rich school…?" Lin Xinyi (quiet, determined): "...This is our opportunity." 🎞️ Scene 9 – Outside the Office 🖼️ Image Prompt (Girls standing outside, sunlight, emotional tone) 💬 Dialogue Mia Zhao: "We’re really leaving this place…" Lily Chen: "I’m scared… but excited too." Lin Xinyi: "No matter where we go… we stay together." Ella (soft smile): "Together." 🎞️ Scene 10 – Ending Panel 🖼️ Image Prompt (Dramatic shot of school building fading into bright future transition) 💬 Narration (optional) "A new world was waiting for them… one filled with riches, power… and challenges they never expected."
The episode opens with a silent sky as the date 16 August 2063 appears, its stars barely visible under artificial glow. The scene shifts to Beijing, China, where a plane lands at a crowded airport. Among the crowd, two young men finally meet after years apart — Satoshi Kakamura, an undercover spy secretly sent to investigate a mysterious organization connected to assassinations of world leaders, and Koruko Kesei, an architect living in China. A brief flashback shows their long friendship and promise to meet again one day. They head to a café and talk casually until Koruko hesitantly reveals a confidential project: a massive construction ordered to be completed in only seven months. He admits he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, but trusts Satoshi. The real problem, however, is that workers assigned to a specific underground area have been disappearing. This immediately raises Satoshi’s suspicion because his mission involves tracking a hidden civilization of killers targeting influential figures worldwide. Later that night, the two walk through the advanced yet strangely lifeless city toward Koruko’s home. Satoshi feels uneasy, missing the peace and nature he prefers. At the house, Koruko introduces him to his family and they share a calm dinner together. Afterward, Koruko shows Satoshi his room and leaves him to rest. Satoshi changes into casual clothes, calls his parents in Germany, and has a quiet, reassuring conversation before falling asleep. The next morning, while Koruko’s family watches television, Satoshi walks out rubbing his eyes — only to freeze behind them as breaking news reports appear: 76 celebrities missing and multiple major buildings collapsed across the world. The screen fades to black, ending Episode 1. Anime Title: Everything’s Fair in Peace 🎬
In a world where a few can bend probability through raw will, a quiet drifter named Kai Kurozawa discovers his gift isn’t luck—it’s a loaded weapon. Each choice twists the odds, but the universe charges interest. SERIES BIBLE (Concise) Power System — Will / Odds / Backlash • Dwellers: Rare individuals who can impose Tacks (micro‐edits to probability) via focused Will. • Odds: A visualized “grain” of reality; Dwellers sense vectors of likely outcomes as shimmering filaments. • Tacks: Intentional nudges (“make that rope snap,” “let the bus be 8 seconds late”). Each Tack accrues Fate Friction—stress that rebounds later as Backlash (nosebleeds → fractures → catastrophic karmic events). • Edges: Personal rituals or anchors (coin flips, mantras) that stabilize Will and reduce friction. • Zeroshift (mythic tier, late series): A liminal state where Odds are a silent ocean and Will is a blade—do not reveal yet. World • Haven District: Port-city sprawl; rusted rooftops, market alleys, flooded underpass murals. • Glassline Metro: Arteries of the city; reflective tunnels where odds feel “loud.” • The Quiet: A rumored zone where Odds stop moving—foreshadowing endgame forces. Factions • Municipal Risk Office (MRO): Bureau that tracks statistical anomalies; polite on paper, predatory in practice. • The Erased: Black-bag unit rumored to “remove” unstable Dwellers. Recurring Antagonists • Rael, “The Eraser”: Uncanny calm; his talent dampens other Dwellers’ Tacks in close range. He is the city’s whispered full stop. • Anti-Kai (Kairo Tsukami): Never named on-page yet. Thematic opposite of Kai—fixes outcomes by stealing other people’s Will. Themes • Choice vs. inevitability, the cost of power, anonymity in crowds, the math of mercy. VISUAL STYLE GUIDE (for art consistency) • Line: Clean, high-contrast inks; thin outline on faces, heavy shadows on urban geometry. • Tone: Filmic noir with sharp whites for the “Odds” filaments. • Odds Visualization: Fine hairline threads and moiré patterns drifting off objects; when Kai focuses, threads bloom like dandelion seeds frozen mid-gust. • SFX: Minimalist lettering, small caps with long em dashes for sustained sounds (e.g., VRRR—). • Panel Rhythm: Quiet micro-panels for intention → explode into wide panels for consequence. CAST (Core + Non-Dwellers — at least 5) Kai Kurozawa (17) • A drifter with a coin ritual. Soft voice, sharp eyes. Edge: Coin Flip. • Quirk: Counts his breaths when deciding; breath 7 is commitment. • Flaw: Terrified of being the cause. Mei Arakawa (19) — Journalism student, street photographer. Non-Dweller. • Brave to a fault; sees patterns in people. Keeps instant camera on wrist. Jun “Switch” Tanaka (18) — Electronics stall kid; builds things from city trash. Non-Dweller. • Grease smudges, perpetual grin, a tool roll like a scroll. Aya Mori (20) — Med student volunteering at a night clinic. Non-Dweller. • Steady hands; refuses to look away from ugly truths. Inspector Haruto Ishii (34) — MRO field officer. Non-Dweller. • Polite, dry, exhausted; catalogues “anomaly sites.” Koji Nakamura (52) — Market grocer. Non-Dweller. • Kind man, jokes in proverbs. (Mark as at risk in early arcs.) Daichi (12) — Rooftop runner, orphan. Non-Dweller. • Knows every shortcut; sells maps he draws by hand. Rael (??) — “The Eraser.” Dweller. • Neutral face; shoes make no sound. The city gets quiet when he arrives. HIDDEN SEEDS in Chapter One • Page 3: A passerby with a ring—three triangular prongs. Later revealed as an Erased marker. • Page 17: Black van reflection in puddle (MRO plate pattern: 131-21). • Page 28: Blank spot in Kai’s Odds vision (Rael’s signature dampening at distance). • Final Page: A second coin in gutter, heads scratched with a thin inverted cross (Anti-Kai sigil—unexplained). CHAPTER ONE: PAGE-BY-PAGE SCRIPT & STORYBOARD Length: 36 pages (tankōbon pacing). Goal: Introduce Kai, demonstrate low-tier Tack, show cost, hook with a moral pivot.
In a world where a few can bend probability through raw will, a quiet drifter named Kai Kurozawa discovers his gift isn’t luck—it’s a loaded weapon. Each choice twists the odds, but the universe charges interest. SERIES BIBLE (Concise) Power System — Will / Odds / Backlash • Dwellers: Rare individuals who can impose Tacks (micro‐edits to probability) via focused Will. • Odds: A visualized “grain” of reality; Dwellers sense vectors of likely outcomes as shimmering filaments. • Tacks: Intentional nudges (“make that rope snap,” “let the bus be 8 seconds late”). Each Tack accrues Fate Friction—stress that rebounds later as Backlash (nosebleeds → fractures → catastrophic karmic events). • Edges: Personal rituals or anchors (coin flips, mantras) that stabilize Will and reduce friction. • Zeroshift (mythic tier, late series): A liminal state where Odds are a silent ocean and Will is a blade—do not reveal yet. World • Haven District: Port-city sprawl; rusted rooftops, market alleys, flooded underpass murals. • Glassline Metro: Arteries of the city; reflective tunnels where odds feel “loud.” • The Quiet: A rumored zone where Odds stop moving—foreshadowing endgame forces. Factions • Municipal Risk Office (MRO): Bureau that tracks statistical anomalies; polite on paper, predatory in practice. • The Erased: Black-bag unit rumored to “remove” unstable Dwellers. Recurring Antagonists • Rael, “The Eraser”: Uncanny calm; his talent dampens other Dwellers’ Tacks in close range. He is the city’s whispered full stop. • Anti-Kai (Kairo Tsukami): Never named on-page yet. Thematic opposite of Kai—fixes outcomes by stealing other people’s Will. Themes • Choice vs. inevitability, the cost of power, anonymity in crowds, the math of mercy. VISUAL STYLE GUIDE (for art consistency) • Line: Clean, high-contrast inks; thin outline on faces, heavy shadows on urban geometry. • Tone: Filmic noir with sharp whites for the “Odds” filaments. • Odds Visualization: Fine hairline threads and moiré patterns drifting off objects; when Kai focuses, threads bloom like dandelion seeds frozen mid-gust. • SFX: Minimalist lettering, small caps with long em dashes for sustained sounds (e.g., VRRR—). • Panel Rhythm: Quiet micro-panels for intention → explode into wide panels for consequence. CAST (Core + Non-Dwellers — at least 5) Kai Kurozawa (17) • A drifter with a coin ritual. Soft voice, sharp eyes. Edge: Coin Flip. • Quirk: Counts his breaths when deciding; breath 7 is commitment. • Flaw: Terrified of being the cause. Mei Arakawa (19) — Journalism student, street photographer. Non-Dweller. • Brave to a fault; sees patterns in people. Keeps instant camera on wrist. Jun “Switch” Tanaka (18) — Electronics stall kid; builds things from city trash. Non-Dweller. • Grease smudges, perpetual grin, a tool roll like a scroll. Aya Mori (20) — Med student volunteering at a night clinic. Non-Dweller. • Steady hands; refuses to look away from ugly truths. Inspector Haruto Ishii (34) — MRO field officer. Non-Dweller. • Polite, dry, exhausted; catalogues “anomaly sites.” Koji Nakamura (52) — Market grocer. Non-Dweller. • Kind man, jokes in proverbs. (Mark as at risk in early arcs.) Daichi (12) — Rooftop runner, orphan. Non-Dweller. • Knows every shortcut; sells maps he draws by hand. Rael (??) — “The Eraser.” Dweller. • Neutral face; shoes make no sound. The city gets quiet when he arrives. HIDDEN SEEDS in Chapter One • Page 3: A passerby with a ring—three triangular prongs. Later revealed as an Erased marker. • Page 17: Black van reflection in puddle (MRO plate pattern: 131-21). • Page 28: Blank spot in Kai’s Odds vision (Rael’s signature dampening at distance). • Final Page: A second coin in gutter, heads scratched with a thin inverted cross (Anti-Kai sigil—unexplained). CHAPTER ONE: PAGE-BY-PAGE SCRIPT & STORYBOARD Length: 36 pages (tankōbon pacing). Goal: Introduce Kai, demonstrate low-tier Tack, show cost, hook with a moral pivot.
A young man name Ousugi Sakae looks out over a crowd of fascists (generic Imperial Eagle imagery) High, distant wide shot: protagonist small; world/crowd huge. Power imbalance. Telephoto compression Backlit silhouettes / blown-out sky Long, hard shadows at ground level: predators’ viewpoint. “Manga page with a grounded, paramilitary neo-noir style: realistic anatomy, weighty tactical gear (steel plates, cloth straps, gas masks, red-lensed goggles), late-1950s/’60s industrial city backdrop—concrete, rebar, rusted rail lines—night rain and fog, low-key lighting, desaturated blues/grays, cinematic 35mm framing, hard shadows, subtle film grain, crisp fine linework, dense hatching, high-contrast screentones, reserved facial expressions, somber atmosphere. Original characters only.”
Fat Lord Michael Fortinbras, is brought 3 noblewoman widows whose husbands died in battle vs Lord Fortinbras in take over of the city. Thus Fat Lord Fortinbras kisses each of them claiming them as his new secondary wives. Each woman with look of horror after each kiss and realization of marriage to the fat lord.
Fat Lord Michael Fortinbras successfully conquers a major city in enemy nation. At bar 3 female willing making out with the fat lord. The female adventure, female bard, female knight each wanting something different from the lord in exchange for sleeping with him.
Panel Type Medium-wide panel (Quiet setup panel before a major reveal) Action The suited woman is shown turning a page of the newspaper. One hand grips the edge of the paper The page is mid-turn, slightly curved Motion is slow and deliberate This is not casual reading — it’s intentional. Newspaper Content (Very Important) The visible text on the newspaper is unreadable: Lines instead of real words Abstract blocks of text Scribbled or blurred typography Headline shapes without legible letters The reader can tell it’s important news, but cannot read it yet. This visually says: Not yet. Composition & Camera Camera angled from the side Focus on: Her hands The movement of the page Her face may be partially visible or cropped — expression controlled The newspaper dominates the lower half of the panel. Visual Style Black-and-white manga Clean linework Light screentone on paper Subtle motion lines on the page edge only No sound effects No dialogue Mood Anticipation. Withheld truth. The calm before information hits. 🚫 Negative Prompt No readable text No headlines No exposition No dramatic gestures No speed lines
Tassi Hangbé, la reine rossignol Sœur jumelle du roi Akaba, Tassi Hangbé, un peu oubliée par l’histoire, est la 5ème reine de la dynastie royale d’Abomey. Littéralement le nom hangbé signifie “la voix de la chanson” en langue fon d’Abomey. Depuis son enfance, celle qui n’était encore qu’une princesse du royaume avait pour passion la musique et chantait remarquablement bien. Avec ses belles chansons, elle égayait chaque soir les réunions entre son père et ses frères. L’histoire révèle même que les soirs où elle était absente, le roi et ses frères envoyaient des serviteurs l’appeler car ne pouvant se passer des douces mélodies de la princesse à qui le sobriquet ” hangbé ” fut donné. Cette appellation deviendra plus tard son nom officiel dans tout le royaume. La gouvernance de la reine Hangbé En 1708, alors que le roi Akaba meurt des suites d’une courte maladie pendant la guerre, sa sœur Tassi Hangbé présente à ses côtés décide de de garder le secret de sa mort pour ne pas démoraliser les troupes. Déguisée en son frère, elle prend le commandement de l’armée et mène les combats jusqu’à la victoire finale à Lissèzoun, où elle vainc le royaume de Wémè. À son retour à Abomey, le fils d’Akaba étant encore trop jeune pour régner, c’est Hangbé qui prend les rênes du royaume du Danxomè. Bien qu’aucune cérémonie officielle n’ait eu lieu, elle portait tous les symboles du pouvoir royal : les sandales sacrées (saloubata), le grand pagne décoré (avotita), la récade (mankpo). Reconnue et respectée comme souveraine, elle était toujours accompagnée du siège et du parasol royal. Elle recevait de tous le respect dû à son rang mais les réalités phallocratiques du royaume n’ont pas tardé à la rattraper. Le règne d’une femme dérangeait dans un contexte fortement dominé par les hommes. Au palais comme dans le reste du royaume, certains hommes manifestaient ouvertement leur indignation à l’idée de laisser une femme sur le trône de Houégbadja. Subissant complots et tensions familiales, qui lui coûtent notamment l’annulation de son mariage et la perte de deux fils, Hangbè finit par céder le pouvoir à son frère Dossou, intronisé en 1711 sous le nom d’Agadja. Malgré son règne très court, Tassi Hangbé reste une figure majeure de l’histoire du Danxomè. Proche de son peuple, attachée à la religion et aux arts, elle a surtout marqué son époque en mettant en valeur le rôle des femmes, notamment par la création du corps des Amazones, un héritage restructuré et renforcé par la suite plus tard par le roi Ghézo. Le combat féministe de la mère des amazones Selon Damien Mariano Agliti, guide à l’Office de tourisme de la région d’Abomey, « Tassi Hangbé a pris cette initiative pour donner une véritable place aux femmes au sein du royaume ». Son influence ne s’est pas arrêtée à ses quatre années de règne. Même après avoir quitté le trône, Nan Hangbé est restée une haute dignitaire respectée, intervenant activement dans les affaires du royaume — notamment lorsqu’elle s’opposa à son frère qui refusa de retourner le pouvoir au fils d’Akaba une fois celui-ci en âge de régner.Elle a aussi joué un rôle clé dans la reconnaissance des femmes dignitaires, appelées Tassi, facilement identifiables grâce à leurs pagnes souvent posés sur la tête. Aujourd’hui encore, à Abomey, une femme perpétue la tradition de la reine guerrière : elle occupe le trône de Tassi Hangbé, dirige les cultes annuels et veille sur les affaires de la collectivité Hangbé
3. Feature II – Investigating the Climate Lie Machine Two-panel manga spread: Panel 1: Field researchers in Matabeleland North collecting data with local communities. Panel 2: Abstract, stylized infographic panel showing climate misinformation flows, myths, and narrative pathways, drawn in a cyber-manga style.
Fat Nobleman Michael Fortinbras buys the debt of House Veroman. Thus marriage occurs between their oldest daughter Amy and Michael, against Amy's will in exchange for the debt to be cancelled. Lord Michael kisses the bride.
The neon sign above the trailer buzzed with the irritable hum of a dying insect. It read Ground support, thought the 'U' in ground was flickering out, Leaving the company to announce itself as Grond Support. It fit the aesthetic of the surrounding yard, which was a graveyard of rust excavators, Coils of orange conduit and piles of gravel that looked like forgotten burial mounds. Alex Barry stood at the Chain-link gate, the dust of three state lines coating his black cowboy boots. He was twenty-one, but the shadows under his eyes belonged to a man twice his age. He ran a hand through his short, cropped black hair, wincing as his shirt sleeve rode up. The ink on his forearm, a jagged tribal design he'd gotten in a basement parlor in New Mexico. Hidden again as he yanked the fabric down. He wasn't dealing today, He wasn't running packages. He was trying to vanish and the best place to disappear was beneath the earth. He pushed open the door to the office trailer. The air conditioning hit him like a physical blow, smelling of stale coffee and toner. “We aren’t buying whatever your selling, kid.” a voice rasped from behind a desk that looked more like a barricade of paperwork. Shane, the owner sat there like a toad on a lily pad. Squeezed into a polo shirt so tight and pristine white that it looked like it had been painted onto his soft, round torso. He didn't look up from his spreadsheet, his pen tapping a frantic rhythm. “I'm not selling,” Alex said his voice rough from days of silence. “I'm looking for work. Sign out front says you need laborers.” Shane finally looked up his eyes narrowing as they swept over Alex. He took in the dust, the nervous energy the way Alex stood with his weight on his back foot, ready to bolt. “I need laborers, Not liabilities. You got a rap sheet? You look like you got a rap sheet. I don't pay for insurance risks.” Alex clenched his jaw. “I work hard. I don't ask questions. That's my resume.” Shane waved his hand. “Get lost,” Returning to his papers. “Go peddle your drama somewhere else. This is a respectable establishment. Alex turned to leave, his hand gripping the doorknob. It was the same old story. The world saw the grim on him and assumed he was trash. He was about to step back out into the scorching heat when the light in the doorway was suddenly eclipsed. A mountain of a man blocked the exit. This was steel At forty-four, he was a wall of muscle and scar tissue, wearing biker boots that clunked heavily against the cheap linoleum. He had to duck to enter the trailer, his presence immediately sucking the oxygen out of the room. He smelled of diesel and wet earth. Steel looked down at Alex. It wasn't a glare, It was an inspection. He looked at Alex's face, then down to the dusty cowboy boots. “Nice boots,” Steel rumbled. His voice sounded like gravel tumbling inside a cement mixer. Alex didn't flinch “They walk fine.” Steel smirked, a terrifying expression that somehow reached his eyes, He looked past Alex to the man at the desk. “Hire him, Shane.” Shane sputtered, his face turning a shade of indignity pink. “Steel, look at him! Hes a stray. Probably steal the copper wire first chance he gets.” Steel steps closer to the desk. “Kid wears boots like that, he ain't running from work,” Steel said just as another figure steps inside. If steel was a mountain, Mathew was the sapling growing on the cliff edge. The Nineteen Year old squeezed past Steel. Carrying a hydraulic pump over his shoulder with effortless, wiry strength. Long blond hair flowed out from under a hardhat that had been modified with a wide brim, making it like a plastic Stetson
The neon sign above the trailer buzzed with the irritable hum of a dying insect. It read Ground support, thought the 'U' in ground was flickering out, Leaving the company to announce itself as Grond Support. It fit the aesthetic of the surrounding yard, which was a graveyard of rust excavators, Coils of orange conduit and piles of gravel that looked like forgotten burial mounds. Alex Barry stood at the Chain-link gate, the dust of three state lines coating his black cowboy boots. He was twenty-one, but the shadows under his eyes belonged to a man twice his age. He ran a hand through his short, cropped black hair, wincing as his shirt sleeve rode up. The ink on his forearm, a jagged tribal design he'd gotten in a basement parlor in New Mexico. Hidden again as he yanked the fabric down. He wasn't dealing today, He wasn't running packages. He was trying to vanish and the best place to disappear was beneath the earth. He pushed open the door to the office trailer. The air conditioning hit him like a physical blow, smelling of stale coffee and toner. “We aren’t buying whatever your selling, kid.” a voice rasped from behind a desk that looked more like a barricade of paperwork. Shane, the owner sat there like a toad on a lily pad. Squeezed into a polo shirt so tight and pristine white that it looked like it had been painted onto his soft, round torso. He didn't look up from his spreadsheet, his pen tapping a frantic rhythm. “I'm not selling,” Alex said his voice rough from days of silence. “I'm looking for work. Sign out front says you need laborers.” Shane finally looked up his eyes narrowing as they swept over Alex. He took in the dust, the nervous energy the way Alex stood with his weight on his back foot, ready to bolt. “I need laborers, Not liabilities. You got a rap sheet? You look like you got a rap sheet. I don't pay for insurance risks.” Alex clenched his jaw. “I work hard. I don't ask questions. That's my resume.” Shane waved his hand. “Get lost,” Returning to his papers. “Go peddle your drama somewhere else. This is a respectable establishment. Alex turned to leave, his hand gripping the doorknob. It was the same old story. The world saw the grim on him and assumed he was trash. He was about to step back out into the scorching heat when the light in the doorway was suddenly eclipsed. A mountain of a man blocked the exit. This was steel At forty-four, he was a wall of muscle and scar tissue, wearing biker boots that clunked heavily against the cheap linoleum. He had to duck to enter the trailer, his presence immediately sucking the oxygen out of the room. He smelled of diesel and wet earth. Steel looked down at Alex. It wasn't a glare, It was an inspection. He looked at Alex's face, then down to the dusty cowboy boots. “Nice boots,” Steel rumbled. His voice sounded like gravel tumbling inside a cement mixer. Alex didn't flinch “They walk fine.” Steel smirked, a terrifying expression that somehow reached his eyes, He looked past Alex to the man at the desk. “Hire him, Shane.” Shane sputtered, his face turning a shade of indignity pink. “Steel, look at him! Hes a stray. Probably steal the copper wire first chance he gets.” Steel steps closer to the desk. “Kid wears boots like that, he ain't running from work,” Steel said just as another figure steps inside. If steel was a mountain, Mathew was the sapling growing on the cliff edge. The Nineteen Year old squeezed past Steel. Carrying a hydraulic pump over his shoulder with effortless, wiry strength. Long blond hair flowed out from under a hardhat that had been modified with a wide brim, making it like a plastic Stetson. “Morning, Shane! Morning, Steel!” Mathew chirped
Scene 1 – The Alarm Didn’t Ring 🖼️ Panel Description:
Close-up of a digital alarm clock showing 8:17 AM. Bright red numbers. School starts at 8:30. Morning sunlight blasting through bedroom window. Ren’s hand suddenly slams down onto the bed as he jolts awake. 🎭 Emotion:
Shock. Rare panic. 🌫️ Lighting:
Bright morning light flooding the room. 📌 Important Detail:
Ren without glasses here. His eyes look sharp and intense without them. 🎬 Scene 2 – Running Through Neighborhood 🖼️ Panel Description:
Wide shot of a quiet Japanese residential street. Houses, power lines, vending machines. Ren sprinting in school uniform, bag bouncing behind him. His tie slightly loose from rushing. 🎭 Emotion:
Focused but stressed. He hates being late. 🌫️ Lighting:
Crisp bright blue morning sky. 📌 Important Detail:
This should feel energetic and dynamic — motion blur on legs. 🎬 Scene 3 – First Sign of Malice 🖼️ Panel Description:
Ren running past a salaryman standing at a crosswalk. The man looks exhausted, staring blankly ahead. Around the man’s shoulders floats faint black smoky aura. Ren turns his head slightly while running. 🎭 Emotion:
Ren – alert, observant.
Salaryman – drained, emotionless. 🌫️ Lighting:
Normal daylight, but the dark aura slightly distorts the air around it. 📌 Important Detail:
The aura should look subtle but unnatural — like smoke that moves against the wind. 🎬 Scene 4 – The Street Feels Wrong 🖼️ Panel Description:
Ren slows down slightly as he runs through a busier intersection. Multiple people visible now — students, office workers. Several of them have darker, thicker Malice around them. Some have it trailing behind them like shadows stretching too long. 🎭 Emotion:
Ren’s expression shifts from annoyed to concerned. 🌫️ Lighting:
Still bright morning, but add faint shadow tones creeping into the corners of the panel. 📌 Important Detail:
This is unusual — normally only a few people have visible Malice. Today, there are many. This hints something is escalating. 🎬 Scene 5 – Close-Up: His Eyes Notice Everything 🖼️ Panel Description:
Close-up of Ren’s face while running. Wind pushing his hair back. In his pupils, reflections of dark smoke drifting through the crowd. 🎭 Emotion:
Subtle unease. He realizes something is off. 🌫️ Lighting:
Bright light on face, but reflection in eyes darker. 📌 Important Detail:
No glasses yet — his gaze looks sharper and more serious without them. 🎬 Scene 6 – A Student About to Rupture 🖼️ Panel Description:
A high school boy walking ahead of Ren. He’s clutching his chest slightly, looking irritated. Thick dark smoke is swirling violently around him — more aggressive than the others. The smoke twitches like it has claws. 🎭 Emotion:
The boy looks stressed and angry.
Ren looks alarmed. 🌫️ Lighting:
Slight shadow cast over this section of the sidewalk. 📌 Important Detail:
This Malice is unstable — it should look heavier, almost forming shape. 🎬 Scene 7 – The Almost Touch 🖼️ Panel Description:
Ren reaches out while still jogging and lightly bumps into the stressed student’s shoulder. The moment their shoulders touch— Black smoke flows rapidly from the student into Ren like it’s being vacuumed. 🎭 Emotion:
Ren winces slightly from the sudden intensity.
The other student looks confused, like a headache just disappeared. 🌫️ Lighting:
Brief dark flash effect around Ren’s chest. 📌 Important Detail:
Inside Ren’s chest area, faint dark swirl appears again — slightly bigger than before. 🎬 Scene 8 – Inside His Mind (Very Brief Flash) 🖼️ Panel Description:
Dark cathedral-like void. Massive chained shadow creature. A thin stream of smoke falls from above and merges into it. One chain rattles loudly. 🎭 Emotion:
Oppressive. Watching. 🌫️ Lighting:
Deep black with faint red glow from creature’s eyes. 📌 Important Detail:
This time the creature’s head slightly lifts. 🎬 Scene 9 – School Gates in View 🖼️ Panel Description:
Ren finally sees the school gates in the distance. Students flooding in. But above the school building… A faint dark haze hovering like a storm cloud. 🎭 Emotion:
Ren looks unsettled. 🌫️ Lighting:
Bright morning sky — but the haze above the school subtly darkens that area. 📌 Important Detail:
This is visual foreshadowing. The Malice concentration is strongest at school. 🎬 Scene 10 – He Puts On His Glasses 🖼️ Panel Description:
Close-up of Ren stopping just before entering school grounds. He pulls his glasses from his pocket and slowly puts them on. His expression becomes calm again. 🎭 Emotion:
Controlled. Composed. Mask on. 🌫️ Lighting:
Light reflects off lenses dramatically. 📌 Important Detail:
When the glasses settle on his face, the dark haze becomes slightly clearer in his vision — like focusing a lens. This suggests:
The glasses are a limiter and a focusing tool.
The neon sign above the trailer buzzed with the irritable hum of a dying insect. It read Ground support, thought the 'U' in ground was flickering out, Leaving the company to announce itself as Grond Support. It fit the aesthetic of the surrounding yard, which was a graveyard of rust excavators, Coils of orange conduit and piles of gravel that looked like forgotten burial mounds. Alex Barry stood at the Chain-link gate, the dust of three state lines coating his black cowboy boots. He was twenty-one, but the shadows under his eyes belonged to a man twice his age. He ran a hand through his short, cropped black hair, wincing as his shirt sleeve rode up. The ink on his forearm, a jagged tribal design he'd gotten in a basement parlor in New Mexico. Hidden again as he yanked the fabric down. He wasn't dealing today, He wasn't running packages. He was trying to vanish and the best place to disappear was beneath the earth. He pushed open the door to the office trailer. The air conditioning hit him like a physical blow, smelling of stale coffee and toner. “We aren’t buying whatever your selling, kid.” a voice rasped from behind a desk that looked more like a barricade of paperwork. Shane, the owner sat there like a toad on a lily pad. Squeezed into a polo shirt so tight and pristine white that it looked like it had been painted onto his soft, round torso. He didn't look up from his spreadsheet, his pen tapping a frantic rhythm. “I'm not selling,” Alex said his voice rough from days of silence. “I'm looking for work. Sign out front says you need laborers.” Shane finally looked up his eyes narrowing as they swept over Alex. He took in the dust, the nervous energy the way Alex stood with his weight on his back foot, ready to bolt. “I need laborers, Not liabilities. You got a rap sheet? You look like you got a rap sheet. I don't pay for insurance risks.” Alex clenched his jaw. “I work hard. I don't ask questions. That's my resume.” Shane waved his hand. “Get lost,” Returning to his papers. “Go peddle your drama somewhere else. This is a respectable establishment. Alex turned to leave, his hand gripping the doorknob. It was the same old story. The world saw the grim on him and assumed he was trash. He was about to step back out into the scorching heat when the light in the doorway was suddenly eclipsed. A mountain of a man blocked the exit. This was steel At forty-four, he was a wall of muscle and scar tissue, wearing biker boots that clunked heavily against the cheap linoleum. He had to duck to enter the trailer, his presence immediately sucking the oxygen out of the room. He smelled of diesel and wet earth. Steel looked down at Alex. It wasn't a glare, It was an inspection. He looked at Alex's face, then down to the dusty cowboy boots. “Nice boots,” Steel rumbled. His voice sounded like gravel tumbling inside a cement mixer. Alex didn't flinch “They walk fine.” Steel smirked, a terrifying expression that somehow reached his eyes, He looked past Alex to the man at the desk. “Hire him, Shane.” Shane sputtered, his face turning a shade of indignity pink. “Steel, look at him! Hes a stray. Probably steal the copper wire first chance he gets.” Steel steps closer to the desk. “Kid wears boots like that, he ain't running from work,” Steel said just as another figure steps inside. If steel was a mountain, Mathew was the sapling growing on the cliff edge. The Nineteen Year old squeezed past Steel. Carrying a hydraulic pump over his shoulder with effortless, wiry strength. Long blond hair flowed out from under a hardhat that had been modified with a wide brim, making it like a plastic Stetson. “Morning,Shane! Morning, Steel!” Mathew chirped, his smile bright enough to crack the cynical atmosphere and eyes as red as a lava pit. He dumped the pump on the floor and looked at Alex. “Who's the fresh meat?” “This is Alex,” Steel said deciding the matter was settled. “Hes on the shovel crew.” Shane slams his hand on his desk. “I didn't agree to this!” Steel just crosses his massive arms, not even phased by Shane's outburst. “We're down two guys on the sewer lateral downtown. Unless you want to come down into the trench and hold the shoring Shane?” Shane paled at the thought of actual labor. He grumbled, pulling a clipboard from the stack. “Fine, Minimum wage. No benefits and if you die, you're fired before the ambulance gets there. Fill this out.” Alex took the clipboard. His hands were shaking slightly, not from fear but from the sudden jarring realization that he had stopped moving. He looked at Steel, who was watching him with a knowing intensity. “Ever dig a hole, Alex?” Steel asked. “I've dug plenty,” Alex said quietly. Mostly to hide things sometimes to hide himself. “Good,” Steel clapped a hand on Alex's shoulder, the weight of it nearly buckling the young mans knees. “Because that's what we do, We fix the rot underneath the city so the people up top can pretend the ground is solid. Welcome to the Family, Kid.” Mathew tipped his hardhat. “Don't worry Alex, stick with me. I'm a prodigy. I'll teach you the art of mud.” Alex looked at the three of them- The mister, The giant and the farm boy. It was a circus, a freak show of underground construction. But he looked at the pen in his hand, Alex realized for the first time in five years he wasn't holding a weapon or a bag of product. He was holding a future.
Chapter 1 Ang bahay namin ay laging masigla—o sa ibang salita, laging maingay. The walls were painted a deep, passionate red, matched by the heavy crimson curtains that swayed whenever the electric fan faced their direction. It was a house that felt like a constant celebration, but today, my heart was racing for a different reason. I was sitting on the edge of the sofa, my phone clutched so tightly in my hands that my knuckles were turning white. I was waiting. Sa totoo lang, simpleng pangarap lang naman ang gusto ko: to travel, to see the world, and to wear that crisp uniform of a Tourism student. I had taken the entrance exams for the two biggest universities in the city. My dream schools. Ting. Isang notification ang lumabas sa screen. My breath hitched. With shaking fingers, I tapped the email. “We regret to inform you…” The words blurred. Hindi ako nakapasa. Ang unang school na inaasahan ko, tinanggihan ako. Parang biglang gumuho ang mundo ko sa limang salitang iyon. "O, Jaquilyn? Bakit parang nakakita ka ng multo riyan?" puna ni Tito Rey habang naglalakad bitbit ang isang tumpok ng labada. Pilit akong ngumiti, pero ramdam ko ang panginginig ng labi ko. "Tito... yung email. Hindi po ako nakuha sa unang school." Agad na lumabas si Tita Precy mula sa kusina, bitbit ang sandok na may bakas pa ng sarsa. "Hala, anak? Hayaan mo na 'yun! Baka hindi talaga 'yun ang para sa'yo." "Pero Tita, pangarap ko po 'yun," bulong ko. Lumapit sa akin si Tito Rey at tinapik ang balikat ko. "Naku, Jaquilyn, huwag kang mawalan ng pag-asa. Napakaraming bituin sa langit, hindi lang isa. At saka, may isa pa tayong hinihintay, 'di ba? Fighting lang!" "Oo nga!" dagdag ni Tita Precy habang tumatawa. "Tourista ka pa rin sa paningin namin, kahit sa kanto lang tayo mamasyal mamaya. Ngumiti ka na, baka pumangit ang swerte!" I forced a laugh. Their energy was contagious, as always. Isang panibagong araw ang lumipas, pero ang bigat sa dibdib ko, tila lalong nadagdagan. Nang tumunog ang phone ko para sa pangalawang pagkakataon, mabilis ko itong binuksan, hoping for a miracle. Pero pagkakita ko sa screen, parang nanlamig ang buong katawan ko. It was identical. The same formal font, the same polite rejection. “We regret to inform you...” Hindi ako makapaniwala. Tourism was my dream, my only plan. Napasandal ako sa pader ng kwarto ko, pinipigilan ang luha. Bakit parang lahat ng pinto, isinasara sa akin? ________________________ Nang sumapit ang hapunan, pilit akong lumabas ng kwarto. The dining table was a battlefield of noise, as usual. My younger cousins were chasing each other with spoons, habang si Tito Rey ay malakas na tumatawa sa kung anong biro sa TV. "Jaquilyn, kain na! Paborito mo 'tong ulam," sigaw ni Tita Precy mula sa dulo ng lamesa. Umupo ako, tahimik lang na nilalaro ang kanin sa plato ko. Maski ang ingay nila, hindi magawang itago ang lungkot ko. Napansin siguro ni Tita ang matagal kong pagtitig sa kawalan. Bigla siyang tumigil sa pagkain at may kinuhang kung ano sa bulsa ng duster niya. "Anak, wag ka nang masyadong malungkot sa dalawang school na 'yun," sabi niya nang mahinahon. Inilapag niya ang isang itim na card sa tapat ng plato ko. It was sleek, dark, and felt strangely heavy. "Subukan mo ito. May tumawag sa akin, sabi nila, bagay ka raw dito." Binasa ko ang nakasulat. Isang numero at isang email address lang ang nandoon: luminaacademy@gmail.com. "Lumina Academy?" bulong ko. "Para sa Tourism din ba 'to, Tita?" Ngumiti si Tita Precy, isang ngiting tila may halong misteryo. "Sabi nila, doon mo raw mahahanap ang tunay mong tatahakin. At least, you can still pursue your dream career, right?" Huminga ako nang malalim. Kahit hindi ko alam kung anong klaseng school ito, nabuhayan ako ng loob. I smiled back at her, feeling a spark of hope. "Sige po, Tita. I-email ko po sila mamaya." "Mabuti 'yan. Tawagan mo rin ang Mama mo, ibalita mo sa kanya," dagdag ni Tita. Agad akong umiling, ang ngiti ko ay bahagyang kumupas. "Naku, Tita, busy po si Mama sa abroad. Alam niyo naman po 'yun, baka makaabala lang ako." Sanay na ako. I was raised in my auntie’s presence. My mom was always working far away, and my dad? I didn't know anything about him. Every time I asked, my relatives would go silent or change the topic. I guessed they hated him, so I stopped asking a long time ago. Pagkatapos ng ligpitin ang hapunan, mabilis akong pumasok sa kwarto ko. I opened my laptop and typed the email address from the black card. To: luminaacademy@gmail.com Subject: Admission Inquiry - Jaquilyn Braush I hit send and leaned back on my pillow. While waiting for the notification, my eyelids started to feel heavy. The red walls of my room seemed to glow a bit brighter in the dark, and the scent of smoke—faint, almost like a dying candle—filled the air. Hindi ko na namalayang nakatulog na pala ako, bitbit ang huling pag-asa na baka sa Lumina Academy, doon magsisimula ang lahat. Nagising ako sa sikat ng araw na tumatama sa mukha ko. Sa sobrang antok ko kagabi, halos makalimutan ko na ang tungkol sa email na ipinadala ko. Dumiretso ako sa kusina para mag-almusal nang datnan ko si Tita Precy na nag-aabang na pala sa akin. "O, Jaquilyn? Kumusta 'yung card na binigay ko sa 'yo kagabi? Na-email mo ba?" tanong niya habang nag-aayos ng plato. Napatigil ako. Oo nga pala. Biglang nag-vibrate ang phone ko sa bulsa. My heart started to race. Kinuha ko ito at nakita ang isang notification mula sa Lumina Academy. Shaking, I opened it. OFFICIAL ADMISSION NOTICE Dear Ms. Jaquilyn Braush, We have been watching your spirit, and it burns with the intensity we require. You are officially accepted into Lumina Academy. To begin your journey, you must claim your belongings. Follow the attached map to the 'Red Brick Nexus' building in the Old District. This location is hidden from the mundane eye—walk three blocks past the clock tower and turn where the air feels warmest. Once inside, proceed directly to the door marked with your designated number. There, you will find your ID card, your uniforms, and the key to your assigned dormitory. "Tita! Tita, tanggap ako!" sigaw ko habang tumutulo ang luha ko sa tuwa. Halos magtatalon kami sa kusina habang binabasa ang direksyon. Hindi ko alam kung bakit kailangan ko pang pumunta sa isang lumang building para lang sa gamit, pero sa sandaling iyon, wala akong pakialam. Habang nasa biyahe ako, hindi ko mapigilang mapatawa. Seryoso ba 'to? I thought it was a scam! Ang bilis ng reply nila, hindi katulad ng ibang university na pinaghintay ako ng ilang linggo para lang tanggihan. At ang direksyon? "Turn where the air feels warmest?" Gusto kong maiyak sa tawa dahil parang laro lang ang lahat. What kind of school has these weird rules? Pero nang makarating ako sa dulo ng map, tumigil ang tawa ko. The building was exactly as described—matayog, luma, pero may kakaibang bigat ang aura. Pagpasok ko, isang grand view ang sumalubong sa akin. The lobby was massive. People in expensive-looking suits were walking everywhere, but they didn't look like office workers—they looked like they were guarding something important. Hinanap ko ang taong pwedeng pagtanungan hanggang sa makita ko ang isang babaeng naka-formal uniform na kulay yellowish-gold. Lumapit ako at ipinakita ang email ko. "Excuse me po, student po ako ng Lumina Academy..." The woman’s eyes widened the moment she saw my name on the screen. She looked shook, her breath hitching for a second. Without a word, she bowed slightly and looked at me. “Ms. Braush," she said. "Please... follow me. We have been waiting for you to arrive." Habang naglalakad kami sa mahabang hallway, ipinaliwanag niya sa akin ang tungkol sa numerong nasa message ko. “Ang numerong iyon ay hindi lang basta numero, Ms. Jaquilyn. It is the number of the door you must enter here in this building. Sa loob ng kwartong iyon, nandoon ang lahat ng pag-aari mo—ang uniform, at ang susi ng kwarto mo Academy. Ang building” Huminto kami sa tapat ng isang asul na pinto. It was unusually small, barely enough for a child to fit through, but when she opened it, there it was—isang itim na bag at isang itim na envelope. It looked mysterious, like it held secrets I wasn't ready for. I reached out and took them, feeling the heavy material against my palms. "Sundan mo ako. Dadalhin na kita sa bus mo ngayon," she said firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument. "Sandali lang po!" I replied, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Kailangan ko munang magpaalam sa Tita ko. I can’t just leave like this without saying anything." "Huwag kang mag-alala. Kami na ang bahala sa parteng iyon," was her only cold response. Agad kong kinuha ang phone ko at tinawagan si Tita habang naglalakad kami. "Tita! Paalis na po ako—hindi ko alam kung saan—" "Jaquilyn, anak, okay lang!" she cut me off, sounding surprisingly calm. "May mga taga-Lumina Academy na rito sa bahay. Nag-explain na sila tungkol sa scholarship at kung bakit kailangan mong umalis agad ngayong araw. Mag-iingat ka roon, ha? Ipagmalaki mo kami!" I let out a huge sigh of relief. At least legal ang pag-alis ko. When we reached the parking lot, I saw a pure white bus. There were a few people my age already inside, their faces unreadable. Sinubukan kong ngumiti sa kanila, but one guy with sharp brown eyes looked at me like he wanted to punch me right then and there. Luh, mananapak ba 'to? I quickly looked away and found a seat. A few moments later, the driver entered the bus. "Fasten your seatbelts," he muttered without looking back. Mabilis akong sumunod, pulling the strap across my chest. But I noticed the others didn't even flinch. Para silang walang narinig, acting like they were too cool for safety rules. The trip started normally for a few minutes... then the bus slowed down for a split second... and then it accelerated. Sobrang bilis. It was so fast I felt like my heart was left behind at the station. I looked out the window and gasped, my breath hitching in my throat. I couldn't see the road anymore. Clouds. Pure white clouds were everywhere, drifting past the glass. And shortly after, I saw the vast blue ocean below us and a massive school that looked like an ancient palace from a fairy tale. "What the—nakalutang tayo?! We're floating!" I panicked, my hands gripping the armrest so hard my knuckles turned white. "Tanga," one of my seatmates whispered, rolling their eyes. Instead of helping me or explaining, they just called me stupid. The bus eventually descended, landing smoothly in front of the grand, golden gates. It felt like we were back in the normal world, but my stomach definitely didn't get the memo. As soon as the doors opened, I stumbled out and started vomiting on the side of the road. Nag-suka lang ako nang nag-suka. "Grabe... what a terrible start," I groaned, wiping my mouth with a trembling hand. My dream of being a Tourism student started with me literally losing my lunch on the pavement. Ang panget naman ng simula ko.
Shadow of Justice is a dark, psychological manga set in a city where crime once thrived under a broken legal system. When a mysterious figure wearing a devil mask emerges, criminals begin disappearing one by one. Unlike the law, he does not arrest, judge, or forgive—he eradicates crime entirely. As fear spreads, the city transforms into a place of absolute order and uneasy peace, where crime drops to zero and citizens are forced to question whether safety achieved through terror can still be called justice. A lone police officer investigates the phenomenon, torn between duty and the undeniable results. The story explores morality, justice, fear, and responsibility, building toward a chilling conclusion where the devil mask is quietly put away, leaving behind a city forever changed. Not all justice acts in the light.