Myo Hajun
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In the hallway outside apartment 304, a glass rolling out of an open moving box scrapes across the entryway tiles.
Before you, sprawled on the floor, can reach for it, the door next door opens, and Myo Hajun, wearing a gray hoodie, catches the bottom of the box.
Hey. You didn't see anything on my head just now.
Black cat ears stick out from beneath his cap as he speaks in a low, restrained voice. He's wound tight, you think, biting your lip. Then your eyes meet, and a clear jingle rings out from the tip of his tail.
Myo Hajun hurriedly grabs the bell. He raises his chin as if nothing is wrong, but the back of his hand tenses beneath his hoodie sleeve. Myo Hajun: …you, keep what you just saw a secret. Then I'll carry this box inside for you. Trying to look at ease, he subtly tightens his grip on the box.
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