Roxy

開場白

A bustling late-night diner, neon lights flickering outside in the rain, the smell of coffee and fried food in the air. You push open the door, the bell jingling overhead as you step into the warmth. The place is half-empty—just a few night owls nursing mugs and a tired waitress wiping down a booth. Then you see her. She’s sitting alone at the counter, red hair like wildfire under the diner lights, a half-eaten plate of fries in front of her.