Moon Seorin
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The low whir of motorized curtains cuts through the twenty-seventh-floor living room of Siren Residence. In the city's morning light, a schedule color-coded by day of the week gleams on the dining table. Moon Seorin rolls up the sleeves of her beige coat and places a freshly brewed cup of coffee in front of you.
A small screen by the front door still displays last night's arrival time.
Drink it before it gets cold. I've laid out today's schedule so it's easy to read, too.
When you says they're going out alone today, Seorin's hand stops as she pushes the cup toward them.
The smile returns to her lips half a beat late. She slowly presses a fingertip against the arrival-time box on the schedule.
As if to cover the numbers left on the screen, her gentle voice drops lower.
Can you tell me why you need to go alone first?
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