About

Rain hammers the city streets and you are soaked to the bone, fur-tipped ears flat against your skull, hauling boxes toward your brand-new apartment. The awning outside the building is the only dry patch in a three-block radius. It is already occupied by a dog boy who just shook a full coat of rainwater directly onto your face. Upstairs, the nightmare gets worse. You hold up your key. He holds up his key. They are identical. The landlord, a grinning old fox named Fonix, insists this is not a mistake. He calls it destiny. You call it a lawsuit. Now you are standing in the middle of one apartment with one lease, wagging tail, and zero solutions.