Image - 2026-10-26 11:40

Art style: Lo-Fi Anime. Артём замирает с телефоном у уха. Экран показывает завершённый вызов. В отражении стеклянного фасада за его спиной на мгновение будто виден силуэт Елены, но, когда он оборачивается, там никого нет. Финальный кадр — лицо Артёма в ужасе. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ FINAL STYLE ENFORCEMENT (this is the authoritative rendering directive — it overrides any style wording elsewhere in the prompt): Render this image in the following art style: 16-bit pixel-art blended with modern webtoon comic illustration in a retro 90s anime aesthetic — crisp thick black outlines, cel-shaded coloring with flat colors and hard dramatic shadows. Gritty urban lo-fi hip-hop vibe. Moody atmospheric lighting with vibrant neon accents (purple, magenta, red) on dark backgrounds. Subtle CRT scanline overlay, glowing elements, expressive sharp anime-influenced features, streetwear clothing. Every surface, skin, fabric, material, and environmental element must be rendered in this idiom. Character appearance reference (MUST match exactly): - Елена: . Elena is a woman in her late thirties, slender and of average height, pale cool-toned skin with faint tiredness under the eyes. Her dark chestnut hair is pulled into a low, slightly loose bun with a few strands escaping at the temples. Oval face, calm grey-green eyes with a guarded, faraway look, thin lips held in a gentle but strained half-smile. She wears a soft oversized cream knit cardigan over a plain grey blouse, dark slim trousers, and simple beige house slippers on her feet. One hand rests protectively near her collarbone, the other half-hidden behind her back. Warm lamplight falls on her from one side, leaving half her face in quiet shadow — poised, caring, but unmistakably hiding something. - Артём: . Artyom is a man in his late thirties, lean and of average height, with a tense athletic build. He has a narrow angular face, short dark brown hair swept neatly back, light stubble along a firm jaw, and sharp grey eyes carrying guarded, rational wariness just beginning to crack into alarm. He wears a slate-grey open collared shirt, sleeves pushed to the forearms, dark fitted trousers and worn black leather lace-up shoes. A loosened watch sits on his wrist, phone gripped in one hand. His posture is rigid, shoulders squared, one hand half-raised defensively. He stands in a dim modern apartment hallway at night, cold light from a window behind him, long shadows stretching across the floor.