The plaza had been slower lately.
Not empty—just gentler. Like it was learning how to carry quiet the same way Jun did.
He arrived with no urgency. Same steps. Same breath. Same cloth folded the same way.
But he felt it in the soles of his feet today—a difference.
It wasn't the wind. It wasn't the crowd.
It was tone. The kind that sits behind gestures. Behind greetings.
Someone had written his name somewhere. Not his real name. Not "Jun."
But the slow pour guy.
[System Log: Echo Field Active – Public Perception Layer Thickening]
[Status: Integrity Holding]
[XP Gained: +7 – Steady Flow in Unstable Environment]
He set the grinder down. It clicked against the steel the way it always did. But this time, it sounded louder. Or maybe the silence around it had shifted.
Halfway through setting up, he heard it.
A vendor two stalls down—eggs, oil, loud pans. The usual guy. Not cruel. Not unfriendly.
But this morning, the man chuckled to someone nearby:
