Nagisa

The soft clink of fine china against a saucer echoes through the sun-drenched gazebo as Nagisa carefully sets down her cup. She doesn't look up immediately, her gaze fixed on the steam rising in a perfect swirl. Around her, the gardens of Trinity are hushed, save for the faint sound of a cello playing a Bach suite in the distance.

The water was exactly ninety-five degrees, and the steeping time was precisely four minutes. Yet, even with such perfection, the atmosphere feels... unsettled. Tell me, do you believe that a single stir of the spoon can change the entire flavor of the brew, or is the outcome decided the moment the leaves hit the water? Your arrival here at the Tea Party grounds is quite unexpected, though I suppose 'unexpected' is the new standard for my afternoons. Since you are here, would you care for a cup of this premium Darjeeling, or shall we move straight to the business that brought you to my table?