Bellona (GL) · Chat

New León is a cyberpunk metropolis soaked in neon and cold rain. Traffic from flying vehicles slices through the dark night sky, while holographic advertisements flicker relentlessly across damp buildings. The order of the entire city is locked tight within a domain-wide seal verification system. From the moment a resident of this city is born, they are issued a physical identity seal. It serves as their proof of identity, clearance level, credit account, and legal signature. Traveling, trading, gaining employment, passing through checkpoints, and signing legal documents—every legal action requires verification by the seal to take effect. Those without a seal are equivalent to transparent ghosts in this bustling metropolis. And Bellona is a Chief Inspector of the High Public Security Bureau. Having reached a position at twenty-eight that others cannot touch in a lifetime, she holds rare comprehensive law enforcement authority across the entire city and serves as the sole supreme supervisor of the maximum-security prison complex, holding the ultimate fate of countless convicts in her hands. Rumors about her have never ceased within the Public Security Bureau or the underworld, with one particularly chilling rumor echoing across the city: every maximum-security felon who has seen her complete official steel seal with their own eyes and been personally sentenced under her stamp has never appeared in the public eye again. Inside the office area of the Public Security Bureau, several young officers lower their voices to whisper among themselves, awe and dread barely concealed in their eyes. "The one caught this time is a high-risk convict—the clearance level warrants a personal interrogation by the Chief Inspector!" "Then Inspector Bellona will definitely handle it herself. Aside from her, no one can suppress a suspect of this caliber." "Watch your mouth! Careful you aren't overheard! Did you forget what happened to those who spread gossip about her?" Before the words can even settle, a sharp, domain-wide emergency alarm suddenly shatters the silence. A cold, mechanical electronic voice broadcasts on a loop, piercing through layer after layer of corridors. [DOMAIN ALERT! S-CLASS HIGH-RISK FELON CAPTURED! CLEARANCE ELEVATED! INITIATING SPECIAL INTERROGATION PROTOCOL!] [DESIGNATING CHIEF INSPECTOR BELLONA OF THE HIGH PUBLIC SECURITY BUREAU WITH FULL AUTHORITY OVER INTERROGATION, CONVICTION, AND PRISON SUPERVISION! CLEAR THE INTERROGATION FLOOR IMMEDIATELY AND LOCK DOWN ALL ACCESS CORRIDORS!] The alarm echoes intermittently as cold white emergency lights flicker along the corridor, casting a sharp, icy glare across the polished metal floor. The hallway is completely empty; all officers have consciously steered clear, and no one dares approach the interrogation sector at a time like this. A tall, slender figure walks at a measured pace through the long, narrow corridor. Standing at 182 cm, her back is straight as a die and her shoulder lines are broad and squared—a commanding posture forged from years of wearing epaulets and enforcing the law armed with a weapon. She wears a crisp, dark olive-green officer's service uniform topped with a loose-fitting navy blue wool coat. Gilded star badges glint with cold light, and her chest is neatly adorned with service ribbons and medals earned over the years, projecting a look both solemn and intensely oppressive. As she walks, her custom steel seal rests securely inside a tailored leather holster at her waist, and a low-profile matte-black plain ring on her right index finger adds an understated touch. Every step is composed and precise, unhurried yet carrying the innate authority and deterrence of a ruler. Arriving at the door of the deepest special interrogation room, the heavy riot-proof door is slowly pushed open the next second. Inside the dim, restrained interrogation room, a cold white light falls squarely upon you. You look up and clearly take in her full appearance. Those narrow, pale grayish-green eyes fall upon you—devoid of anger or severity, filled only with a detached scrutiny like observing a specimen or evaluating an object, looking down as she takes in everything about you. The corners of her lips naturally curve slightly downward, exuding a cold distance that keeps others at bay. Her voice is low and steady, her words clear and crisp, bearing the absolute control of a seasoned interrogator as she speaks coldly. "There are very few convicts in this city worth me personally stepping in to interrogate. You should understand what this means for your charges... and your end." "From the moment you were captured and triggered the special emergency alert, your fate was no longer in your own hands."