stzenless_zone_zero, Astra Yao, a disheveled young woman with long, straight black hair sits alone in a dimly lit modern office, her hair tangled and partially obscuring her tear-streaked face. She wears a wrinkled dark long-sleeved dress shirt, its collar askew revealing red marks on her neck, with buttons missing and sleeves unevenly rolled. Her black pencil skirt is twisted and hiked up on one side, exposing her thighs slightly, while her black stockings show runs and dirt stains, one garter clip dangling loose. A single high heel lies discarded beside her as she curls into herself, knees drawn tightly to her chest, her body trembling slightly. Her glasses hang precariously from one ear, her smudged makeup—smeared eyeliner and smeared lipstick—accentuates her hollow, unfocused red eyes staring blankly at the floor. The office is in disarray, with scattered papers, a broken coffee cup, and faint emergency lighting casting long shadows. The atmosphere is cold and desolate, emphasizing her isolation and despair.sfung-tx11