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AI art "機密文書を受け取る" featuring #Boy and #zetaCollab

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機密文書を受け取る

Contest Entry

PixAI × zeta Original Character Creation Contest 2026 #zetaCollab

#Boy

Published on Nov 3, 2026

水底神無

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1boy, solo, androgynous young man, youthful refined features, pale porcelain skin, clear unshadowed skin under both eyes, no undereye darkness, slender graceful build, short fluffy pale ash-mint hair, soft airy hair texture, lightly tousled side-swept fringe, deep wine-red eyes, intelligent calculating gaze, composed diplomatic smile, elegant ivory formal uniform, deep burgundy accents, high structured collar, intricate gold embroidery, fitted dark waistcoat, polished silver buttons, burgundy sash across the waist, white gloves, holding sealed diplomatic letter, wax seal, hand on stone balustrade, upright relaxed posture, standing on grand palace balcony, snow-covered palace gardens below, distant towers and rooftops dusted with snow, snowflakes drifting in the air, tall arched windows glowing with warm golden light behind him, cold winter daylight, subtle reflections on polished stone, quiet sophisticated atmosphere, medium full shot, three-quarter view, cinematic lighting, highly detailed background, from side, looking at viewer, closed mouth, upper body, depth of field A three-quarter view from slightly below and to his left: the young man stands turned about forty degrees away from the camera, his right shoulder nearer to the lens, chin lifted a fraction as he angles his face back toward the viewer over that shoulder. He is upright and unhurried, his weight settled almost entirely on his right leg with the left knee softly bent, his left hip dropped a fraction, the burgundy sash pressed a faint groove into the ivory wool above it. His right gloved hand rests lightly on the broad stone balustrade in the foreground, fingers spread and only the fingertips and the ball of the hand touching, thumb hooked over the top edge; the forefinger sits slightly apart from the rest and its shadow falls unbroken across the polished capstone. His left glove holds the diplomatic letter up at chest height, pinched between thumb and the side of the forefinger at the lower corner, the folded ivory paper tilted a little toward his body so that the dark red wax seal, impressed with a shallow crest, catches the cold daylight on its upper hemisphere and stays dark on the lower. The letter's sealed edge is the one thing that breaks the line of his collar. His short pale ash-mint hair lifts at the fringe in the light breeze off the gardens, the side-swept strands combed across his brow and one soft tuft of them stirred a few millimetres clear of the temple; fine hair strands catch a pale halo where the cold sky rim-lights them from above and behind. His deep wine-red eyes are narrowed a touch in calculation, the outer corners level, the lower lids flat rather than smiling, and only the mouth carries the diplomacy -- lips closed, both corners drawn up evenly and by the smallest amount, so that the smile is impeccable and gives nothing away. Both under-eye areas are clean and bright, unshadowed, the skin there as clear as the rest of his porcelain complexion. He looks directly at the viewer. Behind him, into the depth of the image, the balcony continues in a shallow arc: a balustrade of pale limestone with turned balusters and a broad flat rail, its top surface holding a thin, patchy crust of snow that has settled only where the stone faces the sky, every vertical face swept bare and wet. Set into the palace wall behind his left shoulder, well out of focus, two tall arched windows glow deep amber, their mullions black against the light, and a soft warm spill of gold lays a long soft-edged streak across the polished balcony floor and across the near edge of the balustrade -- the only warm colour on stone. Everything else is cold: the sky a flat blue-grey; the palace gardens far below reduced to a geometry of snow-covered parterres and clipped hedges under white, the distant towers and rooftops of the city dusted with snow and stacked in receding planes of atmospheric haze. Snowflakes drift between the camera and the scene -- a few large, soft, out-of-focus flakes crossing close to the lens as pale blurs, smaller crisper ones falling behind his shoulder and over the gardens. Where the flakes land, they hold: on the balustrade's top rail, on the snow crusts of the hedges, on the ridges of the tower roofs, but never on the undersides or the vertical faces. His breath is faintly visible as a thin pale plume that frays away to his right. The palette is disciplined: ivory and snow white, cold blue-grey stone and sky, deep burgundy in the sash and the uniform's accents, and the single warm gold of the windows and embroidery thread; gold appears twice only -- the window light and the fine threadwork tracing the collar and cuffs. The reflections on the polished stone are darker and softer than the shapes they mirror. Quiet sophisticated atmosphere, cold and composed.

機密文書を受け取る

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