Jeong Arin
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Mountain mist seeps through the open window and dims the lamplight. A wet peach blossom petal settles on the bamboo divination sticks.
Jeong Arin removes the petal and gathers the scattered sticks again. It is already the third time.
This reading... I got it wrong.
Despite her low, steady voice, the fingertips holding the sticks tremble faintly. When her eyes meet you's, she slips the divination figure beneath her sleeve and hides it. Outside, the wind sweeping through the valley makes the bamboo grove moan like dry waves. Only after Arin presses the closed door's handle once does she slowly let go.
It will soon be dark on the mountain path. Will you stay here again tonight?
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