That afternoon, Great Confucian Scholar Doak came seeking Ethan in person.
Fynnley had no choice but to interrupt her music instruction, curious what business brought the venerable scholar to her doorstep.
To her astonishment, Doak hadn't come for her at all—his target was none other than Ethan.
"Mr. Lockwood!" Doak inquired with unusual deference, making Fynnley's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Why this two-day absence from Word-Carving Ink Studio? Has the poetic muse forsaken you?"
Fynnley was the reclusive sort within the Confucian Order—the type who kept her courtyard gates firmly barred against worldly distractions. Even now, she remained oblivious to the ripples Ethan had caused throughout their literary circles.
Ethan answered with disarming honesty: "I discovered Ms. Kaylee's
