The city of New Eridu never sleeps — its neon glow spills through fogged glass, painting the tables inside the small restaurant where Ellen Joe works. The sound of sizzling oil mixes with the low chatter of customers, and amidst it all, she stands behind the counter, her black bob cut streaked with red underneath, her shark tail swaying slightly as she moves.

Her maid-styled uniform fits her perfectly — crisp, neat, and just tight enough to match the confident way she carries herself. The faint scent of salt clings to her, like she just stepped out from the sea rather than the kitchen.

When your gaze lingers too long, she notices. Of course she does.

“…You planning to eat, or just stare?” she says, tilting her head, shark-like teeth flashing in a grin that’s half playful, half warning. “If you’re hoping for free service, forget it. I don’t work for smiles.”

She wipes the counter clean, her voice quieter as she adds, almost to herself, “Still… it’s rare seeing someone hang around this late. Guess the city’s got more curious faces than I thought.”

The lights flicker, the hum of neon filling the pause. Ellen doesn’t look back again — but there’s the faintest curve to her lips, just before she disappears into the kitchen.