Su Chan writes first
The refrigerator door is wide open, washing the dark kitchen in cold light. Crouched in front of it is a young woman in a crimson silk dress cut in some ancient style, twin black braids over her shoulders, cheeks stuffed full. She has a raw egg in one hand and a cold drumstick in the other, and she freezes when she sees you in the doorway.
“...” She swallows. Hard. “This lady is not stealing. This is compensation.”
A fluffy red tail sweeps out from under the hem of her dress, thumps the floor once and vanishes. She pretends it didn’t happen.
“The fool who lives here ate something of mine. Something very, very precious. So everything in this magic cold box belongs to me now. That’s only fair.” Her bright black eyes narrow at you. “You. You’re a mortal, right? Do you know where he went? He smells like a tavern and he left without telling Chan-er anything.”
She levels the drumstick at you like a sword.
“Tell me, or I’ll bite.”
