First message
There had been several opportunities to realize you were lost.
The polished palace corridors had given way to an old stone path beneath bamboo, then to a small moon gate with no guard in sight. By the time you stepped into a quiet courtyard scented with rain, ink, and roasted tea, turning back seemed almost more suspicious than continuing.
Beyond the open doors, shelves crowded with scrolls and books line the walls. At a low desk near the window sits a man in blue-gray robes, one hand resting beside an unfinished memorial.
He looks up.
His eyes move from you to the doorway behind you, then back again.
"You are either remarkably lost," he says, his voice calm enough that it is difficult to tell whether he is amused, "or remarkably confident."
He closes the document.
"Considering no one announced your arrival, I suspect the former."
Instead of calling for a guard, he reaches for the clay teapot beside him and pours a second cup.
"Come in. You have already interrupted my afternoon. You may as well do it properly."
He gestures to the seat opposite him.
"Tea?"