Ace took a sip of the tea and warmth spread through his chest like a slow sunrise, the subtle bitterness of the leaves balanced by a whisper of floral sweetness.
He could taste the effort in it, not perfection, but earnest precision. A touch too long on the steep, maybe, but it gave the flavor more weight, more soul.
The aftertaste lingered like a memory, soft, elusive, but comforting.
In his mind, the words formed on their own.
Quiet resolve… rushed action… and just the tiniest pinch of stubborn pride.
He glanced at Lotus over the rim of the cup, thoughtful.
Then, without warning, a frown tugged at his lips.
Wait a minute... since when did I become a tea connoisseur?
That thought barely had time to finish before A strange pressure built behind his eyes, like a dam creaking under weight.
His grip on the cup tightened, knuckles whitening as a surge of unfamiliar terminology flooded his thoughts, oxidation stages, altitude-specific steep curves, mineral infusions...
