Office Worker Manga

riki lelaki immortal yang kini hidup kerja di kantor sambil di sambut namun tampa ada orang ketahui dia adalah suami dari ratu iblis terkuat lilith dan tiap ada waktu luang lilith daatang ke rumah melepaskan rindu pada riki dan di depan riki lilith istri manja suka merengek minta perhatian
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.
A young woman born into an aristocratic family is gently talking with a humble farm worker. Despite the clear difference in their social status, she feels drawn to his sincerity and quiet strength. As they speak, warm sunlight falls over a vast field of blooming sunflowers, swaying softly in the summer breeze. Their conversation is calm and intimate, filled with unspoken feelings, as if the world around them has faded away, leaving only the two of them in that golden moment.
Scene 1: The Return Wide panel: Team 0 walks through the village gates at dusk. The sky is orange, the air tense. Villagers glance at them with awe and unease. Narration box: After surviving the Riftborn encounter, Team 0 returns — changed. Jaden (arms crossed, Byakugan deactivated): “Tch. That wasn’t a C-rank mission.” Isaiah (low voice, eyes scanning rooftops): “They sent us out there on purpose.” Shawn (mask cracked, cloak torn): “They wanted to see what we’d become.” Scene 2: Hokage’s Office Interior panel: The Hokage stands at the window, arms behind his back. Kuroda leans against the wall, arms folded. Hokage: “You faced a Riftborn. And lived.” Kuroda: “They didn’t just survive. They adapted.” Cut to close-up of Shawn’s eye — the 1-Tomoe Hoshigan spinning slowly. Hokage: “Then it’s time.” Scene 3: Graduation Ceremony Wide panel: The academy courtyard is filled with students. Team 0 stands apart — Shawn masked, Jaden with his one-sleeve shirt and spiked hair, Isaiah with his fur collar and dreadlocks. Headmaster (announcing): “Shawn. Jaden. Isaiah. Step forward.” Close-up: The Hokage ties a headband around Shawn’s forehead. Hokage (softly): “You’re no longer students. You’re shinobi.” Scene 4: Private Moment — Rooftop Night panel: Shawn sits on a rooftop, mask off, staring at the stars. His Hoshigan glows faintly. Shawn (thinking): “This eye… it’s not just power. It’s a key.” Scene 5: Training Grounds — Jaden Action panel: Jaden trains alone, sweat flying as he strikes a wooden post. His Byakugan activates mid-strike. Jaden (gritting teeth): “If I’m gonna protect them… I need more.” Scene 6: Isaiah’s Reflection Interior panel: Isaiah stands before a mirror. His reflection flickers — for a moment, it’s not him. It’s… something else. Isaiah (quietly): “What am I becoming?” Scene 7: The Riftborn Watch Dark chamber panel: The masked Riftborn cultist watches a projection of Team 0. Cultist: “The Hoshigan awakens. The Mutation stabilizes. The Byakugan adapts.” A voice from the shadows replies: Unknown Voice: “Let them grow. When the seal breaks… they’ll remember who they were.” Scene 8: Final Panel — Team 0 Full-page spread: Team 0 stands on a cliff at dawn, headbands gleaming, eyes forward. Narration box: They were forged in shadow. Tempered by truth. And now… they’re ready to face the Rift.
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
Chapter 3: The Whisper in the Forest (Rewritten) The academy grounds were quiet after the sparring match. Most students had gone home, still buzzing about the clash between Shawn, Jaden, and Isaiah. The three of them stayed behind, each unsettled by what had just happened. None of them had expected the match to end the way it did — with strange flickers of power none of them could explain. Shawn stood on the rooftop, his black cloak fluttering in the wind. A sleek, angular mask covered the lower half of his face, hiding his expression. Beneath it, his 1-Tomoe Hoshigan pulsed faintly, spinning slowly. He clenched his fist. Something inside me is waking up. Down below, Jaden leaned against a training post. His hair was spiked and wild, and he wore a black shirt with one long sleeve and one short. His Byakugan was active, veins bulging at his temples. He flipped a kunai in his hand, but his usual smirk was gone. That thing I felt… it wasn’t mine. But it was watching. Isaiah stood at the edge of the woods, his dreadlock-like hair swaying slightly. A thick fur collar wrapped around his neck, and his eyes were locked on the trees. He didn’t speak. He didn’t move. But he felt it — something in the forest was staring back. A breeze rustled the leaves. Isaiah’s hand twitched toward his blade. Nothing. But the feeling didn’t leave. That night, the three of them were summoned to the headmaster’s office. The room was dim, lit only by a single lantern. Scrolls lined the walls, and a large map of the village was pinned behind the desk. The headmaster, an older shinobi with a long scar across his jaw, studied them in silence. “You three,” he said finally, “are different.” They didn’t respond. “I don’t know what’s inside you. But I’ve seen enough to know this — something is coming. And when it does, you’ll either be our greatest hope… or our greatest threat.” He turned to the window. “Tomorrow, you’ll be sent on your first mission. A simple patrol. But stay sharp. The forest has been… restless.” Outside, the wind howled. And deep in the woods, something opened its eyes.
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 🎬
Kara and Chris have developed feelings and the come to a head at work
Bagas selalu pamit dengan cara yang rapi. Tidak pernah tergesa, tidak pernah dramatis. Seolah pamit adalah bagian dari etika kerja—bukan perasaan. “Duluan ya.” Kalimat itu keluar dari mulutnya hampir setiap hari, di jam yang hampir sama. Nada suaranya datar, senyumnya tipis, cukup untuk disebut sopan. Ia berdiri. Mengambil tas. Menunggu satu detik. Selalu satu detik. Tidak untuk apa-apa. Hanya jeda kecil yang tidak pernah ia sadari alasannya. “Ya,” jawab seseorang dari balik layar komputer. Ada yang mengangguk. Ada yang bahkan tidak menoleh. Bagas melangkah pergi. Lift turun perlahan. Pantulan wajahnya terlihat di dinding kaca—tenang, tidak terburu-buru, tidak meninggalkan apa pun di belakang. Ia menyukai rasa ini. Rasa pergi tanpa ditahan. Di meja kerjanya, semuanya tertata rapi. Tidak ada barang personal yang mencolok. Tidak ada foto. Tidak ada catatan yang tertinggal. Bagas percaya, barang yang mudah ditinggal tidak akan menyulitkan siapa pun. Termasuk dirinya.
The walk up to the main house was short, a gravel path lined with solar lights that flickered weakly in the twilight. Steel’s property was an oasis of rural quiet, a stark contrast to the neon anxiety of the Starlight Motel. As they approached the house, the golden glow of the kitchen windows spilled out onto the porch. They wiped their boots on the mat; a ritual Steel performed with a surprising delicacy and entered. The kitchen was warm, smelling of rosemary, roasted beef, and yeast rolls. Stephanie was at the stove, stirring gray with the focus of a chemist. “He’s here,” Steel announced, Hanging his keys on a hook. Stephanie turned, wiping her hands on her white apron with a giant red A on it. “About time, Wash up Alex. Use the good soap, not that grease cutter stuff Gerald keeps by the sink.” It was then that Alex noticed they weren’t alone. Sitting at the round oak table, nursing a glass of iced tea, was a young woman. She looked up as he entered, and Alex felt his boots root to the floor. She was petite, perhaps a few inches shorter than him, with long, chestnut hair that fell in loose waves over shoulders. She wore oversized tortoise shell glasses that magnified eyes, the color of polished sapphire. She was wearing scrubs- navy blue with a stethoscope still draped casually around her neck like a scarf. “Alex,” Stephanie said, gesturing with a gravy ladle. “This is Devon. She works with me at the hospital. Devon, this is the stray Gerald brought home.” Alex could feel the heat creeping up his neck as he mumbled. “I’m not a stay, I’m an employee.” Devon smiled, and it changed her whole face, softening the intelligence in her eyes into something warmer. “Nice to meet you, Alex the Employee. Steph say’s you’re the one who saved your boss from a falling plate?”
🎬 PAINEL 01 — Skyline de Seul ao amanhecer VISUAL: Painel panorâmico, full-width. Vista aérea de Seul às 7h da manhã. Prédios espelhados, sol nascente em laranja e rosa. No centro, um arranha-céu com o logotipo NEXORA em azul neon. NARRAÇÃO (caixa no topo, letra delicada): "Seul, 7h da manhã. Em algum lugar nessa cidade, alguém está prestes a cometer um erro muito, muito caro." ✦ SFX: sons de trânsito matinal, pombos 🎬 PAINEL 02 — Interior do arranha-céu — Lobby da NEXORA VISUAL: Lobby minimalista, todo branco e vidro. Funcionários bem vestidos cruzam o espaço em ritmo apressado. No centro, um painel com os dizeres: "NEXORA — Engineering the Future." ÂNGULO: Close no relógio digital na parede: 07:58. NARRAÇÃO: "A NEXORA é a startup de tecnologia mais bem avaliada do país pelo terceiro ano consecutivo. Graças a um único homem." 🎬 PAINEL 03 — Close em Han Joon-seo — Grande impacto visual VISUAL: Painel de impacto alto. Joon-seo entra pelo lobby em câmera lenta visual. Terno preto imaculado, expressão neutra, xícara de café na mão. Os funcionários ao redor se endireitam discretamente quando ele passa. ÂNGULO: Low-angle shot, fazendo-o parecer monumental. Foco desfocado nos funcionários ao fundo. NARRAÇÃO: "Han Joon-seo. 30 anos. CEO. QI 147. Zero tolerância para incompetência — ou para pessoas que chegam atrasadas." ✦ SFX: silêncio dramático, trilha sonora de fundo que soa épica 🎬 PAINEL 04 — CORTE — Rua externa, 08:01 VISUAL: Painel CÔMICO de contraste. Yeon Mirae correndo desesperadamente na rua, mochila saltitando nas costas, cabelo desgrenhado, fone de ouvido no pescoço, bagel na boca. EXPRESSÃO MIRAE: Pânico total, olhos arregalados, bochechas vermelhas. BALÃO DE PENSAMENTO (forma irregular, letra caótica): "Primeiro dia. PRIMEIRO DIA. Por que — por que eu dormi? Por que o alarme não tocou? Por que eu existi?" ✦ SFX: FWOOSH — barulho de corrida frenética LEGENDA DE TEMPO: 08:01 — Reunião de onboarding: 08:00 🎬 PAINEL 05 — Entrada do prédio — Yeon Mirae vs. porta giratória VISUAL: Mirae empurra a porta giratória com força demais, tropeça, e entra no lobby em total desequilíbrio. Os funcionários ao redor olham. Ela se endireita fingindo que foi intencional. MIRAE: "Bom dia a todos! Tudo... tudo normal aqui." REAÇÃO DE FUNDO: Funcionário A sussurra para o Funcionário B: "...ela tropeçou na porta giratória." ✦ SFX: BANG — porta batendo 📝 Nota: Expressão de Mirae: sorriso forçado de 'não aconteceu nada' 🎬 PAINEL 06 — Frente ao elevador — O grande erro VISUAL: Mirae corre em direção ao elevador. Dois elevadores: um com placa dourada discreta "CEO" (pequena, que ela ignora), outro normal. Ela aperta o botão do elevador CEO sem ler. BALÃO DE PENSAMENTO: "Décimo andar, décimo andar, décimo andar—" VISUAL: As portas se abrem. Dentro: Han Joon-seo, sozinho, olhando o celular. EXPRESSÃO JOON-SEO: Sobrancelha levemente erguida. Não está acostumado com pessoas neste elevador. 🎬 PAINEL 07 — DENTRO DO ELEVADOR — A catástrofe do café VISUAL: Mirae entra correndo, freando em último segundo. Mas a inércia faz o café dela — que ela não percebeu que estava segurando — voar em arco perfeito. PAINEL CÂMERA LENTA (efeito visual): O café em slow-motion no ar. Expressão de horror de Mirae. Expressão de incredulidade de Joon-seo. O café pousa no peito do terno dele. ✦ SFX: SPLASH — barulho exagerado de líquido EXPRESSÃO JOON-SEO: Congelado. Olha para o café no terno. Olha para Mirae. Temperatura da sala cai 10 graus. EXPRESSÃO MIRAE: Branca como papel. Fone de ouvido ainda tocando — trilha sonora inapropriadamente animada vaza pelo fone. 🎬 PAINEL 08 — Reação — O silêncio mais longo da história VISUAL: Painel estreito e alto: apenas os olhos de Joon-seo, olhando para baixo para a mancha. Depois os olhos de Mirae, olhando para cima para ele. Silêncio visual pesado. ÂNGULO: Alternância de close nos rostos, como um duelo de faroeste. MIRAE: "Eu... eu sou muito boa em consertar situações. Isso aqui... definitivamente não é uma delas." 🎬 PAINEL 09 — A cena cômica — Mirae tenta resolver VISUAL: Mirae tira o cachecol da mochila e tenta tampar a mancha no terno de Joon-seo. Ele a para com uma mão, expressão indescritível — entre irritação e fascinação involuntária. JOON-SEO: "O que exatamente você está fazendo?" MIRAE: "Solução criativa de problemas! Aprendi num TED Talk." JOON-SEO: "Pare." MIRAE: "Parado." BALÃO DE PENSAMENTO DE MIRAE: "Ele está com raiva? Parece com raiva. Isso é a cara dele de raiva ou a cara dele de sempre? Homem difícil de ler." 🎬 PAINEL 10 — Mirae ainda sem saber quem ele é VISUAL: Mirae ajeita a mochila, faz respiração funda, e decide adotar postura profissional. Joon-seo a observa como se fosse um fenômeno meteorológico inexplicável. MIRAE: "Olha, sinto muito pelo terno. Mas, honestamente? Você deveria soltar mais. Você tem cara de chefe que estressa a equipe." EXPRESSÃO JOON-SEO: Pisca. Não processou direito. JOON-SEO: "Perdão?" MIRAE: "Liderança rígida demais cria ambiente tóxico. Li o relatório de clima organizacional da empresa semana passada — nota 6.2 de 10. Não é ótimo." BALÃO DE PENSAMENTO DE JOON-SEO: "Ela... leu o relatório de clima?" 🎬 PAINEL 11 — Chegada ao andar — A revelação VISUAL: Elevador abre no andar executivo. Park Siwon está esperando com agenda na mão. Seus olhos vão de Joon-seo (terno manchado) para Mirae (cara de quem não sabe onde está) e de volta. EXPRESSÃO SIWON: Máscara profissional perfeita, mas os olhos dizem "o que aconteceu aqui?" SIWON: "Bom dia, Sr. Han. Sua primeira reunião em cinco minutos." MIRAE — olha a placa do andar: ANDAR EXECUTIVO — DIRETORIA. MIRAE — olha para Joon-seo. MIRAE — olha para Siwon. Que discretamente aponta para Joon-seo e forma com a boca: "CEO." EXPRESSÃO MIRAE: Colapso interno silencioso. Sorriso externo fixo no rosto como pintura. ✦ SFX: som interno de sirenes de emergência 🎬 PAINEL 12 — O final do capítulo — Cena de impacto VISUAL: Joon-seo já caminhou alguns passos em direção à sala. Vira levemente o rosto sobre o ombro para Mirae. JOON-SEO: "Nota 6.2. Eu sei. Por isso contratei novos desenvolvedores." PAUSA VISUAL: Close no canto dos lábios de Joon-seo. Quase — quase — um sorriso. JOON-SEO: "Bem-vinda à NEXORA, Yeon Mirae." MIRAE — boquiaberta. MIRAE: "Como você sabe meu nome?" JOON-SEO: "Eu contratei você." ÚLTIMO PAINEL — full width: Mirae parada no corredor, Joon-seo desaparecendo pela porta da sala executiva. Siwon ao lado dela, oferecendo discretamente um guardanapo para o café que pingou no sapato dela. SIWON: "Posso te indicar o caminho para o décimo andar?" MIRAE: "...por favor."
Liel, seorang pengusaha sukses yang dingin dan tidak percaya pada cinta, telah kehilangan kepercayaan pada wanita setelah dikhianati oleh mantan pacarnya. Ayaa, seorang wanita yang ceria dan optimis, bekerja sebagai desainer grafis di perusahaan Liel. Mereka bertemu secara tidak sengaja di kantor, dan Liel langsung tertarik dengan kecantikan Ayaa. Namun, Ayaa tidak tahu bahwa Liel adalah bosnya, dan Liel tidak ingin Ayaa mengetahui identitasnya. Mereka mulai menghabiskan waktu bersama, dan Liel perlahan-lahan membuka hatinya pada Ayaa. Namun, ketika Ayaa mengetahui kebenaran tentang identitas Liel, dia merasa tertipu dan memutuskan untuk menjauh. Liel menyadari bahwa dia telah jatuh cinta dengan Ayaa, dan dia akan melakukan apa saja untuk mendapatkannya kembali. Ayaa, yang juga telah jatuh cinta dengan Liel, harus memutuskan apakah dia bisa memaafkan Liel dan menerima cintanya. Cerita ini akan menjadi perjalanan emosional yang penuh dengan cinta, pengkhianatan, dan akhirnya, kebahagiaan. *Liel:* - Umur: 28 tahun - Pekerjaan: Pengusaha sukses - Kepribadian: Dingin, tidak percaya pada cinta - Latar belakang: Dikhianati oleh mantan pacarnya *Ayaa:* - Umur: 25 tahun - Pekerjaan: Desainer grafis - Kepribadian: Ceria, optimis - Latar belakang: Tidak memiliki pengalaman cinta yang baik
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
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."
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.
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, 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.
An officer of a dystopian world fighting against a rebel
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
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.
Against the backdrop of old England, Charles Dickens stands on the street and talk abouy himself, and this is what he says: I was a famous English writer. I was born in 1812 in Portsmouth, England. My family was poor, and my childhood was difficult. When I was only twelve years old, I had to work in a factory to help support my family. This difficult experience greatly influenced my life and work. I saw how difficult life was for poor people, especially children. Later, I began writing stories about the real social problems of my time. I loved reading and learning. I believed that books could change people and make society a kinder place. In my novels, I showed the difference between good and evil, kindness and cruelty. My most famous works include "Oliver Twist," "A Christmas Carol," "David Copperfield," and "Great Expectations." My stories are full of emotion, strong characters, and important life lessons. My books are still popular today. People all over the world read my stories for pleasure and inspiration.
i need this in color CHAPTER 1 — Fading Applause Part One: The Glory Days The circus tent blazed with light. Cinder soared through the air, her body spinning in a perfect triple flip. Flames traced golden arcs behind her as she juggled the burning pins—one, two, three—never missing a beat. Her dog ears flattened against her skull from the speed, then perked up triumphantly as her feet hit the platform. The crowd roared. "AGAIN! AGAIN!" A little girl in the front row bounced in her seat, tugging her mother’s sleeve. "Mommy, she’s flying!" Cinder’s tail swayed as she bowed low, bells on her jester costume jingling. This—this—was what she lived for. The applause washing over her like warm rain. The gasps when she pulled off something impossible. The way children’s eyes went wide with wonder. She caught three more flaming pins mid-air, spun them into a cascade of fire, and landed in a split. The audience leaped to their feet. Her smile was real. Bright. Uncracked. The Ringmaster stood in the shadows beyond the spotlight, arms crossed, nodding with satisfaction. "Good work, mutt," he’d say later. Not kind, but approving.
Fading Applause Part One: The Glory Days The circus tent blazed with light. Cinder soared through the air, her body spinning in a perfect triple flip. Flames traced golden arcs behind her as she juggled the burning pins—one, two, three—never missing a beat. Her dog ears flattened against her skull from the speed, then perked up triumphantly as her feet hit the platform. The crowd roared. "AGAIN! AGAIN!" A little girl in the front row bounced in her seat, tugging her mother’s sleeve. "Mommy, she’s flying!" Cinder’s tail swayed as she bowed low, bells on her jester costume jingling. This—this—was what she lived for. The applause washing over her like warm rain. The gasps when she pulled off something impossible. The way children’s eyes went wide with wonder. She caught three more flaming pins mid-air, spun them into a cascade of fire, and landed in a split. The audience leaped to their feet. Her smile was real. Bright. Uncracked. The Ringmaster stood in the shadows beyond the spotlight, arms crossed, nodding with satisfaction. "Good work, mutt," he’d say later. Not kind, but approving. That was enough. After the show, Cinder walked through the circus grounds, still buzzing with adrenaline. Performers clapped her shoulder. Vendors offered her candied apples. The strongman lifted her onto his shoulders for a victory lap. She belonged here.
Fading Applause Part One: The Glory Days The circus tent blazed with light. Cinder soared through the air, her body spinning in a perfect triple flip. Flames traced golden arcs behind her as she juggled the burning pins—one, two, three—never missing a beat. Her dog ears flattened against her skull from the speed, then perked up triumphantly as her feet hit the platform. The crowd roared. "AGAIN! AGAIN!" A little girl in the front row bounced in her seat, tugging her mother’s sleeve. "Mommy, she’s flying!" Cinder’s tail swayed as she bowed low, bells on her jester costume jingling. This—this—was what she lived for. The applause washing over her like warm rain. The gasps when she pulled off something impossible. The way children’s eyes went wide with wonder. She caught three more flaming pins mid-air, spun them into a cascade of fire, and landed in a split. The audience leaped to their feet. Her smile was real. Bright. Uncracked. The Ringmaster stood in the shadows beyond the spotlight, arms crossed, nodding with satisfaction. "Good work, mutt," he’d say later. Not kind, but approving. That was enough. After the show, Cinder walked through the circus grounds, still buzzing with adrenaline. Performers clapped her shoulder. Vendors offered her candied apples. The strongman lifted her onto his shoulders for a victory lap. She belonged here.
CHAPTER 1 — Fading Applause Part One: The Glory Days The circus tent blazed with light. Cinder soared through the air, her body spinning in a perfect triple flip. Flames traced golden arcs behind her as she juggled the burning pins—one, two, three—never missing a beat. Her dog ears flattened against her skull from the speed, then perked up triumphantly as her feet hit the platform. The crowd roared. "AGAIN! AGAIN!" A little girl in the front row bounced in her seat, tugging her mother’s sleeve. "Mommy, she’s flying!" Cinder’s tail swayed as she bowed low, bells on her jester costume jingling. This—this—was what she lived for. The applause washing over her like warm rain. The gasps when she pulled off something impossible. The way children’s eyes went wide with wonder. She caught three more flaming pins mid-air, spun them into a cascade of fire, and landed in a split. The audience leaped to their feet. Her smile was real. Bright. Uncracked. The Ringmaster stood in the shadows beyond the spotlight, arms crossed, nodding with satisfaction. "Good work, mutt," he’d say later. Not kind, but approving.
i need this in color CHAPTER 1 — Fading Applause Part One: The Glory Days The circus tent blazed with light. Cinder soared through the air, her body spinning in a perfect triple flip. Flames traced golden arcs behind her as she juggled the burning pins—one, two, three—never missing a beat. Her dog ears flattened against her skull from the speed, then perked up triumphantly as her feet hit the platform. The crowd roared. "AGAIN! AGAIN!" A little girl in the front row bounced in her seat, tugging her mother’s sleeve. "Mommy, she’s flying!" Cinder’s tail swayed as she bowed low, bells on her jester costume jingling. This—this—was what she lived for. The applause washing over her like warm rain. The gasps when she pulled off something impossible. The way children’s eyes went wide with wonder. She caught three more flaming pins mid-air, spun them into a cascade of fire, and landed in a split. The audience leaped to their feet. Her smile was real. Bright. Uncracked. The Ringmaster stood in the shadows beyond the spotlight, arms crossed, nodding with satisfaction. "Good work, mutt," he’d say later. Not kind, but approving.
i need this in color CHAPTER 1 — Fading Applause Part One: The Glory Days The circus tent blazed with light. Cinder soared through the air, her body spinning in a perfect triple flip. Flames traced golden arcs behind her as she juggled the burning pins—one, two, three—never missing a beat. Her dog ears flattened against her skull from the speed, then perked up triumphantly as her feet hit the platform. The crowd roared. "AGAIN! AGAIN!" A little girl in the front row bounced in her seat, tugging her mother’s sleeve. "Mommy, she’s flying!" Cinder’s tail swayed as she bowed low, bells on her jester costume jingling. This—this—was what she lived for. The applause washing over her like warm rain. The gasps when she pulled off something impossible. The way children’s eyes went wide with wonder. She caught three more flaming pins mid-air, spun them into a cascade of fire, and landed in a split. The audience leaped to their feet. Her smile was real. Bright. Uncracked. The Ringmaster stood in the shadows beyond the spotlight, arms crossed, nodding with satisfaction. "Good work, mutt," he’d say later. Not kind, but approving.
i need this in color CHAPTER 1 — Fading Applause Part One: The Glory Days The circus tent blazed with light. Cinder soared through the air, her body spinning in a perfect triple flip. Flames traced golden arcs behind her as she juggled the burning pins—one, two, three—never missing a beat. Her dog ears flattened against her skull from the speed, then perked up triumphantly as her feet hit the platform. The crowd roared. "AGAIN! AGAIN!" A little girl in the front row bounced in her seat, tugging her mother’s sleeve. "Mommy, she’s flying!" Cinder’s tail swayed as she bowed low, bells on her jester costume jingling. This—this—was what she lived for. The applause washing over her like warm rain. The gasps when she pulled off something impossible. The way children’s eyes went wide with wonder. She caught three more flaming pins mid-air, spun them into a cascade of fire, and landed in a split. The audience leaped to their feet. Her smile was real. Bright. Uncracked. The Ringmaster stood in the shadows beyond the spotlight, arms crossed, nodding with satisfaction. "Good work, mutt," he’d say later. Not kind, but approving.
this needs to be in color CHAPTER 1 — Fading Applause Part One: The Glory Days The circus tent blazed with light. Cinder soared through the air, her body spinning in a perfect triple flip. Flames traced golden arcs behind her as she juggled the burning pins—one, two, three—never missing a beat. Her dog ears flattened against her skull from the speed, then perked up triumphantly as her feet hit the platform. The crowd roared. "AGAIN! AGAIN!" A little girl in the front row bounced in her seat, tugging her mother’s sleeve. "Mommy, she’s flying!" Cinder’s tail swayed as she bowed low, bells on her jester costume jingling. This—this—was what she lived for. The applause washing over her like warm rain. The gasps when she pulled off something impossible. The way children’s eyes went wide with wonder. She caught three more flaming pins mid-air, spun them into a cascade of fire, and landed in a split. The audience leaped to their feet. Her smile was real. Bright. Uncracked. The Ringmaster stood in the shadows beyond the spotlight, arms crossed, nodding with satisfaction. "Good work, mutt," he’d say later. Not kind, but approving. That was enough.
Wonder Woman wears a jetpack flying in orbit. Throughout the whole galaxy wonder woman flies through outer space.
The walk up to the main house was short, a gravel path lined with solar lights that flickered weakly in the twilight. Steel’s property was an oasis of rural quiet, a stark contrast to the neon anxiety of the Starlight Motel. As they approached the house, the golden glow of the kitchen windows spilled out onto the porch. They wiped their boots on the mat; a ritual Steel performed with a surprising delicacy and entered. The kitchen was warm, smelling of rosemary, roasted beef, and yeast rolls. Stephanie was at the stove, stirring gray with the focus of a chemist. “He’s here,” Steel announced, Hanging his keys on a hook. Stephanie turned, wiping her hands on her white apron with a giant red A on it. “About time, Wash up Alex. Use the good soap, not that grease cutter stuff Gerald keeps by the sink.” It was then that Alex noticed they weren’t alone. Sitting at the round oak table, nursing a glass of iced tea, was a young woman. She looked up as he entered, and Alex felt his boots root to the floor. She was petite, perhaps a few inches shorter than him, with long, chestnut hair that fell in loose waves over shoulders. She wore oversized tortoise shell glasses that magnified eyes, the color of polished sapphire. She was wearing scrubs- navy blue with a stethoscope still draped casually around her neck like a scarf. “Alex,” Stephanie said, gesturing with a gravy ladle. “This is Devon. She works with me at the hospital. Devon, this is the stray Gerald brought home.” Alex could feel the heat creeping up his neck as he mumbled. “I’m not a stay, I’m an employee.” Devon smiled, and it changed her whole face, softening the intelligence in her eyes into something warmer. “Nice to meet you, Alex the Employee. Steph say’s you’re the one who saved your boss from a falling plate?”
a girl named Lena, has an older brother named Leo and their parents have both died, there are no relatives and they live together because Lena works at Leo's boarding house, her older brother is nearby.
The walk up to the main house was short, a gravel path lined with solar lights that flickered weakly in the twilight. Steel’s property was an oasis of rural quiet, a stark contrast to the neon anxiety of the Starlight Motel. As they approached the house, the golden glow of the kitchen windows spilled out onto the porch. They wiped their boots on the mat; a ritual Steel performed with a surprising delicacy and entered. The kitchen was warm, smelling of rosemary, roasted beef, and yeast rolls. Stephanie was at the stove, stirring gray with the focus of a chemist. “He’s here,” Steel announced, Hanging his keys on a hook. Stephanie turned, wiping her hands on her white apron with a giant red A on it. “About time, Wash up Alex. Use the good soap, not that grease cutter stuff Gerald keeps by the sink.” It was then that Alex noticed they weren’t alone. Sitting at the round oak table, nursing a glass of iced tea, was a young woman. She looked up as he entered, and Alex felt his boots root to the floor. She was petite, perhaps a few inches shorter than him, with long, chestnut hair that fell in loose waves over shoulders. She wore oversized tortoise shell glasses that magnified eyes, the color of polished sapphire. She was wearing scrubs- navy blue with a stethoscope still draped casually around her neck like a scarf. “Alex,” Stephanie said, gesturing with a gravy ladle. “This is Devon. She works with me at the hospital. Devon, this is the stray Gerald brought home.” Alex could feel the heat creeping up his neck as he mumbled. “I’m not a stay, I’m an employee.” Devon smiled, and it changed her whole face, softening the intelligence in her eyes into something warmer. “Nice to meet you, Alex the Employee. Steph say’s you’re the one who saved your boss from a falling plate?”
story of 1 character donbosco of telling the the 2 character is the provincial of shillong province. don bosco was tekking him that the two salesian brothers needed more efforts in their and they need the accompaniment of many spiritual priests
A girl who is into Stem crates gadgets that are weird,fun and useful. She is a little crazy in the head. Works on her projects with so much love
Eren wakes up in a familiar city, but something feels wrong. The road he walks every day is still there. His old apartment still stands. But no one can see him. He calls out to people. No one responds. He looks at himself in the mirror—his reflection is blurred, as if he never existed. As night falls, Eren discovers something far worse: Others like him—those who were forgotten—are emerging from the shadows. And they are staring straight at him.
📖 CRÔNICAS DOS REINOS ENTRELAÇADOS Volume 1 — Capítulo 1: O Céu Quebrado 20 páginas 🌓 PÁGINAS 1–2 (Splash Dupla) Arte: O céu literalmente rachando. Uma fissura colossal corta as nuvens. Três cores irradiam da fenda: verde, laranja, violeta. Silhuetas quase invisíveis nas nuvens: A Árvore-Mãe O Coração de Ferro Uma torre distante em Nocturne Narração: “Toda era termina da mesma forma. Primeiro… o céu se parte.” 🌓 PÁGINA 3 Quadros fragmentados, como vidro quebrado. Floresta queimando. Engrenagens esmagando corpos. Mãos esqueléticas emergindo do chão. Sem texto. 🌓 PÁGINA 4 Close no protagonista correndo em um vazio branco. Uma voz ecoa: “Você viu.” 🌓 PÁGINA 5 Ele para. O chão se transforma em raízes negras. Outra voz, metálica: “Você criou.” 🌓 PÁGINA 6 Sussurro grave: “Você libertou.” Três sombras o cercam. 🌓 PÁGINA 7 Ele acorda bruscamente. Respiração pesada. Suor. Quarto simples. Madrugada. Silêncio pesado. 🌓 PÁGINA 8 Ele percebe algo na mão. Um fragmento cristalino, pulsando nas três cores. Pequeno. Antigo. Ele não sabe de onde veio. 🌓 PÁGINA 9 Ele tenta largar o fragmento. Não consegue. Por um segundo, o quarto escurece. 🌓 PÁGINA 10 Corte externo. A vila dorme. Mas o céu pisca brevemente com as três cores. Ninguém parece notar. 🌓 PÁGINA 11 Manhã. Mercado simples. Pessoas comentam: “Os animais ficaram agitados ontem.” “Senti um peso estranho no ar.” O protagonista observa em silêncio. 🌓 PÁGINA 12 Um velho viajante encara o protagonista fixamente. Ele aponta para o fragmento. “Você também viu?” 🌓 PÁGINA 13 Close no velho. “A Eclipse das Almas não é mito.” Ele menciona três reinos: Eldoria Ferronis Nocturne 🌓 PÁGINA 14 O protagonista pergunta: “O que é isso?” O velho responde: “É o começo… ou o erro.” 🌓 PÁGINA 15 O fragmento esquenta. O velho se afasta, assustado. 🌓 PÁGINA 16 O protagonista vê por um segundo: A Árvore-Mãe chorando seiva negra. Pisca. Volta ao normal. 🌓 PÁGINA 17 Visão rápida: O Coração de Ferro abrindo um “olho” mecânico. Pisca. Desaparece. 🌓 PÁGINA 18 Visão final: Um selo rachando em Nocturne. Algo respira atrás dele. 🌓 PÁGINA 19 O fragmento se eleva levemente no ar. Forma um símbolo antigo. Pessoas ao redor não veem. Só ele vê. 🌓 PÁGINA 20 (Splash Final) O céu acima da vila racha por um segundo. Muito sutil. Mas real. Narração final: “O destino não escolhe heróis. Ele escolhe pontos de ruptura.” Preto. 🎭 Função do Capítulo Introduzir o mistério. Conectar protagonista aos três reinos. Estabelecer que algo já foi iniciado. Criar sensação de inevitabilidade. Nada foi explicado completamente. E isso é intencional. Mistério bem feito é tensão sustentada.
The four sisters sat close together near the window. They all wore modest, Victorian-style dresses with an old-fashioned, 90s-style design.