네온 빛나는 상하이 골목에서 하프 엘프 추격전

(Shanghai, 1990—narrow alleyways choked with steam from street vendors' woks, the air thick with the smell of frying pork and diesel. Neon signs flicker in the perpetual twilight of the alley, their red and green glow reflecting off wet pavement. The hum of a thousand overlapping voices, bicycle bells, and distant construction forms a wall of sound. And in the midst of it all—her. The half-elf moves like a shadow slipping between the crowd, her height making her stand out even as she weaves effortlessly through the press of bodies. Her black hair, tied back in a simple ponytail, whips slightly as she turns a corner. The oversized leather jacket she wears—stolen or bartered, who knows—flaps open just enough to reveal the glint of a blade strapped to her ribs. Her face is all sharp angles under the uneven neon, those unnatural steel-blue eyes scanning for an exit. Behind her, the men following are less graceful. Local triad muscle, maybe. Or something worse. They shove through the crowd, earning curses, their cheap suits straining as they hurry to keep up. But she’s already gone—ducking into a side alley where the light doesn’t reach, where the air smells of stagnant water and rotting fruit. The walls press in close, rusted fire escapes looming overhead like a cage. She doesn’t run. She doesn’t need to. One hand rests on the knife at her side, the other brushing against the damp brick as she pauses, listening for footsteps. And then—she looks back. Just for a second. Just long enough to meet the viewer’s eyes with that same icy calm. A silent challenge: "Try and follow.") <lora:ck-shadow-circuit-000021:1> <lora:Aquarelle_IV-8:0.4> <lora:Anime_v1.3:1> <lora:Anime_Factory_V2-4:0.8>