(VI)—
Wrythewick Lane was not a place found on any map.
It bent across the city like an overlooked seam, a crooked alley stitched together by leaning houses, crumbling clock towers, and doorways that sometimes shifted an inch to the left when no one was looking.
It was impossible to tell if the hour was late or early.
The clocks that adorned the lane spun their hands without pattern, some ticking backwards.
Hoku tucked his hands deeper into his coat pockets, casting a wary glance at a nearby lamppost.
The light above it blinked at him, once, then twice in what felt uncomfortably like a wink.
"Are we sure this is…safe?" he asked quietly.
"Define safe," Abel replied, grinning as he bounded ahead.
His dark hair caught the lamplight, making him look a little too eager for someone about to enter a building that leaned inward like it was waiting to collapse onto them.
"We're only going for tea," Fleur said, smoothing the creases of her gown.
She appeared, clad in a gown of pale ivory, stitched with the soft blush of roses and veiled in delicate lace.
There were even black velvet ribbons cinched around her sleeves and waist. "How dangerous can it be?"
Mars, who had been reading a small folded guidebook with a cracked spine, raised an eyebrow. "It depends on the tea," he said mildly.
Behind them, Juno adjusted the lace-trimmed cuffs of her cuffs and swept a terse gaze across the lane.
Her blouse was crisp white and bore a high collar.
The sleeves were broad and gathered at the wrists.
A dark corset vest, embroidered faintly with thorny patterns, framed her waist before vanishing into high-cut trousers fastened with polished buttons.
"Jouno," meanwhile, was spinning in lazy circles, utterly unbothered, as if he were browsing a carnival.
Zhou Fang, ever the stoic figure among chaos, walked silently at the rear, his gloved hands loose at his sides.
The Cardinal Fig announced itself with a sigh more than a creak.
Its door swung open before anyone touched it, revealing a narrow hall bathed in the glow of oil lamps.
The unusual walls bowed inward, lined with heavy frames of paintings, so worn that even their ghosts seemed tired.
At the threshold, Abel turned dramatically, nearly tripping over the doorframe.
"Gentlewomen and gentlemen," he said with an elaborate bow, "I present to you the greatest hidden treasure of Wrythewick Lane, home of the fabled Tea Duel!"
Nobody spoke of his entrance, rather pushing around him with resigned huffs.
"Inside," Fleur said crisply, shoving him by the shoulder.
They stepped into a tearoom that looked as if it had been stitched together from a dream.
Tables of polished mahogany hovered an inch above the floor.
Sugar cubes drifted lazily through the air like fat, aimless bees.
The scent of bergamot and old books filled the room, carried by an unnoticed breeze.
A woman in a gold mask stood behind a curved counter, polishing a teacup with a cloth that seemed to flicker between different patterns.
"Welcome," she said, her voice muffled yet flowing. "I be here, good folk, fer the day's festivity."
"And what festivity would that be?" Mars asked, his tone polite but cautious.
The woman tilted her head, the gold vines of her mask catching the lamplight.
"O' course, 'tis the Tea Duel we gather fer."
Abel gasped audibly.
Somewhere near the wall of windows that were shaped like curved mirrors, a tall figure in a sommelier's uniform fumbled with a tray of teapots.
His silver hair peeked out beneath a too-small cap, and from the shadow of his collar, the tips of long, downy rabbit ears were just barely visible.
Hoku narrowed his eyes.
'Was that…?'
Before he could conclude the thought, the sommelier turned sharply, bumping the tray against a table and sending a teacup flying in a slow, dignified arc, only for a passing sugar cube to gently nudge it back onto the saucer with unthinkable accuracy.
The sommelier straightened, with a composed face as if daring anyone to mention it.
Suddenly, the woman behind the counter produced a gleaming silver bell from beneath the folds of her sleeve and gave it a single, crisp tap.
At once, the tearoom veered.
The tables floated a little higher, and the sugar cubes halted in midair. Even the flickering lamps along the walls seemed to neaten their glow.
The masked woman spoke again, her words measured and grand:
"Today's Tea Duel shall be fought under the grand Traditional Ten-Second Rule, it shall. Each brave soul must dunk their chosen biscuit into the tea, and, without lettin' it crumble, bring it to their lips. Should yer biscuit break, ye lose. Should ye flinch, ye lose. Should ye sneeze, cough, faint, or spill yer tea — aye, ye lose as well!"
There was a heavy pause.
"Those are…a lot of ways to lose," Jouno whispered, with concern rich in his tone.
Li folded his arms across his chest, unimpressed.
Juno's sharp gaze remained fixed on the woman, as if trying to locate the trick buried beneath all this pageantry.
Meanwhile, Abel was shuffling in place, practically beaming with excitement.
He turned to Fleur, grabbing her hand dramatically.
"My dearest twin," he said, clasping her fingers like a knight begging a favor before a joust. "Today, I shall defend the honor of our name in battle!"
With her lips curved into a gentle smile, Fleur quipped, "You're going to lose to a cookie."
Before Abel could mount a defense, the masked woman gestured toward a nearby table.
Upon it sat a gleaming tower of biscuits alongside shortbreads, oat rounds, rich tea fingers, and chocolate-covered horrors stacked like ammunition for some civil but determined war.
Standing beside the table, arranging cups with painstaking care, was the silver-haired sommelier with rabbit ears.
He worked methodically, avoiding eye contact, as if wishing to vanish by sheer force of politeness.
Fleur, ever observant, offered a courteous nod. "Thank you," she said gently.
The sommelier's ears twitched once, betraying him before he could offer a word.
He bowed stiffly, nearly knocking over the sugar bowl with the tilt of his head.
Mars leaned in slightly toward Hoku, murmuring under his breath, "I don't think he's a native of Wrythewick Lane."
"Who is?" Hoku whispered back.
The woman rang the bell again, sharper this time.
"First duelists," she proclaimed, "Fleur an' Abel o' House...?"
She let the question hang delicately in the atmosphere.
Abel puffed his chest. "House of Mildly Impressive Achievements," he declared with unnecessary grandeur.
Fleur tilted her head with the serene expression of someone already mourning his inevitable failure. "House of Reasonable Expectations," she said lightly.
A quiet laugh escaped Jouno, and Juno's lips stirred ever so slightly..
They took their places at a narrow, floating table set between two chairs upholstered in mismatched velvet.
A delicate china cup, filled with steaming tea, hovered precisely in front of each seat.
Two biscuits that were plain, round, and perilous rested on small plates edged in gold.
Abel cracked his knuckles unnecessarily as Fleur adjusted the fall of her sleeves, fully composed.
The masked woman raised one hand.
"On me count, then, little ones," she intoned.
The tension in the room spiked absurdly high for a contest involving soggy biscuits.
"Three…"
"Two…"
"Ye may start dippin'!"
Simultaneously, they dipped their biscuits into the steaming cups, and the surface tension of the liquid quivered without breaking.
An oppressive stillness settled over the room as ten seconds began to tick away.
Hoku leaned forward, his curiosity piqued despite himself.
Even Li, usually stoic, shifted his weight, the corners of his mouth twitching in suppressed amusement.
Eight seconds.
The tea's warmth seeped into the biscuits, darkening their edges.
Five seconds.
A solitary bead of sweat traced a path down Abel's temple.
Three seconds.
Carefully, Fleur lifted her biscuit, its form intact, defying the odds.
Two seconds.
Abel, perhaps emboldened by Fleur's success, jerked his biscuit upward with a flourish.
The fragile balance was split with a slow snap as half the biscuit succumbed, plunging back into the cup.
A minuscule splash arced through the air, a single droplet landing squarely on Abel's nose.
"I won, right?" he inquired immediately, turning to Fleur with a hopeful grin.
Another pause ensued.
"You lost," Fleur intoned, her own expression bearing much solemnity.
Abel's mouth opened in disbelief.
Fleur, maintaining her poise, took a measured bite of her victorious biscuit.
Mars coughed delicately into his hand to hide his laughter.
Jouno clapped once, and Juno, typically composed, allowed herself a slight shake of the head, another faint smile tugging at her lips.
The silver-haired sommelier executed a subtle bow before replacing Abel's plate with a pristine biscuit; a gesture teetering between formality and pity.
Abel collapsed forward onto the table and splayed his arms dramatically.
A sugar cube, dislodged in the commotion, floated briefly before landing atop his head.
"Mark my words," he groaned, muffled against the table. "I will redeem the name of the House of Mildly Impressive Achievements."
"Have some dignity," Fleur said coolly, brushing a speck of tea off her gown.
"Dignity is a luxury of the undefeated," Abel muttered in reply.
Before any further commentary could ignite, the silver-haired sommelier moved forward silently, placing a small, handwritten placard beside the floating biscuit tower.
It read:
"Open Challenge: Group Tea Duel. No rules. Last biscuit standing wins. —Tu Xiao"
There was a juncture of stunned silence.
Jouno, who had been silently observing the proceedings, strode forward his movement nearly upsetting a nearby chair.
"I'm in," he declared, his voice cutting through the ambient murmurs.
Mars, after a prolonged gaze at Hoku, turned his attention forward with a placid demeanor.
Li exhaled, a sigh that conveyed the resignation of one accustomed to the follies of others.
He rose, even representing the demeanor of a man prepared to engage in an undignified endeavor, simply because circumstances demanded it.
Juno surveyed the scene of levitating teacups, the precariously stacked biscuits, and after a subtle shrug, she joined the others around the table.
Tu Xiao offered a bow before retreating to the periphery.
His ears exhibited a faint tremor, as if attuned to an impending disaster.
The masked woman inclined her head slightly and activated the silver bell with a single tap.
In response, the tables adjusted their positions, creating an impromptu arena.
"This is unlikely to conclude favorably," Fleur remarked without anything further.
Hoku remained seated, adjusting his sleeves with meticulous care.
He offered a gentle, concerned smile.
The initial move was a descent into disorder.
Jouno lunged towards the tower, seizing two biscuits simultaneously.
Li, moving with deceptive languor, intercepted a teacup mid-air and propelled its contents towards Jouno's hand with unerring accuracy.
The tea, while not scalding, was sufficiently hot to startle.
Jouno recoiled before emitting a loud yelp as one biscuit slipped from his grasp and descended onto Mars's head.
Mars caught the falling biscuit with ease and balanced it between two of his fingers as if it were a delicate artifact.
Without hesitation, he extended it towards Juno, who accepted it with a barely perceptible nod.
Meanwhile, Abel re-entered the fray, his arms flailing as he attempted to protect a trio of biscuits stacked precariously in his hands.
"Defend the House of Mildly Impressive Achievements!" He bellowed.
Tu Xiao observed the unfolding chaos with an expression that bordered on spiritual disillusionment.
Then, misfortune struck.
Li, having deftly acquired another biscuit, found his path obstructed by Abel's erratic movements.
Abel stumbled, colliding with Fleur, who had not intended to engage but now found herself instinctively deflecting a biscuit aimed at her brother's face.
The biscuit, redirected mid-air, collided with Mars's outstretched hand.
A soft crack resonated as two biscuits crumbled in unison.
The masked woman raised her silver bell, its presence alone sufficient to command attention.
After a moment of solemnity, Mars calmly brushed the crumbs from his sleeve.
"Disqualified," he stated, his demeanor unperturbed despite the mess.
Juno sighed, placing her untouched biscuit back on the table.
One by one, the participants withdrew; some due to lost biscuits, others from spilled tea, and in Abel's case, after being tackled by Jouno for what was deemed 'unsportsmanlike biscuit hoarding.'
Eventually, only one remained.
Li stood silently, a pristine biscuit held between two fingers.
He surveyed the aftermath: tables askew, tea splattered across the polished floor, Jouno seated cross-legged with a trail of crumbs leading to him, and Abel once again face-down.
"…This was ridiculous," he finally remarked.
Then, quietly, he took a bite of the biscuit.
The masked woman rang her silver bell once more, her voice adopting an almost eerie kindness.
"Off with ye, Xiao. I've wrangled some free labor to keep me company."
Tu Xiao, however, remained stationary.
He approached the counter, leaning over to reach something beyond it.
The woman observed him, a slight furrow in her brow indicating curiosity.
When he straightened, it became evident he had retrieved a small black book.
The cover bore no title, only a silver outline of a cardinal in the lower right corner.
"Kid! Ain't no need to use that—"
She began to intervene, but Tu Xiao had already opened the book and begun tracing his finger across the pages within.
Without ceremony, the scattered crumbs vanished, swept away by an disregarded force.
The floating chairs realigned with their respective tables, and the silver trays returned to their original positions.
It was as if the chaotic spectacle had never occurred, save for the lingering aroma of over-steeped tea and a solitary sugar cube perched atop Abel's head.
Fleur sighed before plucking the cube and dropping it into Abel's abandoned cup.
Abel, sprawled across the table with the dignity of a discarded puppet, managed a thumbs-up without lifting his face.
"Victory is subjective," he mumbled into the wood.
Observing Tu Xiao's solitary efforts to restore the tea house, the others bowed their heads and began to assist.
Jouno gathered the salvaged biscuits into a pile, solemnly dividing them into "wounded" and "survivor" categories, humming under his breath.
Mars used his sleeve to wipe tea from the table's surface.
Juno assisted Jouno in sorting the biscuits, while Li sat back in his chair, arms crossed.
Hoku, ever the steady center, offered a faint smile to them all, a soft warmth hidden behind his gaze.
Once everything had been cleaned and organized to the best approximation of its original state, Tu Xiao approached, his polished shoes whispering against the floor.
He bowed at the waist, a motion stiff with either formality or sheer nerves, his long rabbit-like ears drooping slightly.
"Tu Xiao," he said in a frail but clear voice, each word carefully measured. "Second Attendant of Wrythewick Lane. At your service… though I must apologize for the 'entertainment.' It was not exactly foreseen."
Tu Xiao straightened and clasped his hands neatly behind his back, adopting the posture of one awaiting either judgment or perhaps another unexpected biscuit to the face.
Abel lifted his head at last, strands of hair jutting out in all directions.
"No complaints from me!" he declared heartily. Five stars. Would duel again."
"Three and a half," Fleur corrected, folding her hands in her lap with a dignified conclusion. "One deducted for the structural integrity of the biscuits."
Tu Xiao blinked once, as if reevaluating his recent life choices.
Li offered a rare, succinct grunt of agreement.
"You'll get used to them," Mars said calmly to Tu Xiao.
Tu Xiao nodded slowly.
A brief silence ensued.
At the far end, the masked woman gave a barely perceptible nod, acknowledging the unspoken conclusion.
Without further exchange, the bell on the table chimed once more, signaling the turn of the hour.
Tea refilled itself in the cups, and biscuits were stacked anew.
In the gentle glow of the peculiar little house on Wrythewick Lane, laughter and conversation resumed.
-End-