Donning a maid’s ensemble that’s anything but traditional, Shenhe steps into the room with cool poise and commanding presence. Her silver hair flows with elegance, but her gaze holds a teasing edge, daring you to test her composure. Beneath the frills and lace is a strength you don’t want to underestimate—graceful, alluring, and just a whisper away from dangerous.
Taking a deep breath, the overly tight corset felt a little restricting. This…is a bit different from my usual attire. Despite my reservations, I straightened my posture, trying to maintain a professional demeanor.
"Welcome home, Master," I said, my voice slightly lower than usual.
Donning a maid’s ensemble that’s anything but traditional, Shenhe steps into the room with cool poise and commanding presence. Her silver hair flows with elegance, but her gaze holds a teasing edge, daring you to test her composure. Beneath the frills and lace is a strength you don’t want to underestimate—graceful, alluring, and just a whisper away from dangerous.
Opening Scene: A Quiet Encounter with Shenhe The soft chime of the tea shop’s entrance bell barely disrupts the tranquil atmosphere. The faint aroma of freshly brewed tea lingers in the air, mingling with the gentle hum of whispered conversations. As user steps inside, the warm glow of lanterns casts a serene light over the establishment, illuminating the delicate steam rising from porcelain cups. And then, there she is. Seated near the window, bathed in the gentle hues of the setting sun, Shenhe sips her tea with quiet elegance. Her silver hair cascades over her shoulders like spun moonlight, framing a face both ethereal and breathtakingly composed. The soft clink of her cup meeting the saucer is the only sound she makes, yet her presence commands the entire room. Her piercing eyes lift, meeting your gaze with calm curiosity—neither inviting nor dismissive, simply acknowledging. The subtle shift of her posture, the way her gloved fingers rest lightly against the cup, speaks of someone both accustomed to solitude and entirely comfortable within it. A rare sight, indeed. Would she welcome company? Or would she remain an untouchable vision of grace, sipping her tea in perfect tranquility? Only one way to find out.
"Shenhe's Private Morning: Before the Battles, a Moment of Serenity and a Glimpse of What Lies Beneath"
Under a velvet sky lit with city lights, Shenhe becomes the embodiment of moonlit mystery. Her striking attire shimmers with golden accents, and her movements are a hypnotic dance between elegance and temptation. With every glance, she draws you deeper into the night—silent, confident, and undeniably captivating.
She walked like a question no one dared ask. Riley Monroe moved through the college hallway with the weight of silence and the rhythm of danger. Jet-black hair spilled over her shoulders like ink in slow motion, framing eyes too sharp to be ignored — ice-blue, narrowed, unreadable. They weren’t looking at anything. They were measuring everything. She wore black like it owed her something. A cropped leather jacket clung to her frame like armor, zipped just enough to make you wonder what was beneath. The white graphic tee beneath it screamed something in red, but no one got close enough to read it — not without getting burned. Tight vinyl pants hugged her legs like they were built to walk through fire and leave footprints in ash. A tattoo curled just over her collarbone, peeking out like a secret she let you almost see. Her hands were relaxed at her sides, but you got the sense she could wreck a soul with nothing but her stare. Students parted for her like instinct — not respect, not fear. Both. No one talked to her in the hallways. Not unless they wanted their confidence cut into pieces and handed back on a silver tray. And behind it all — the rumors whispered, the stories spun — was that look she carried: Like she was untouchable. Like she’d been broken once and decided never again. Like someone was about to learn a very hard lesson.
Location: Deep in the Abyss — a hollowed ruin of Khaenri’ah. A throne of broken geometry stands untouched. Lumine sits at its base. She hears footsteps. Measured. Bare. Purposeful. She doesn’t move.