’That sly old fox!’
Claire Sinclair grumbled to herself, but she was perfectly willing to be played by the sly old fox.
’As long as I can learn sothing from it, getting played a little is no big deal. It’s fine as long as I’m not the one who ultimately loses out.’
Claire: So what should I do now?
Henry Hartwell: Go find Young Master Quincy.
Claire Sinclair’s heart clenched. She shot back, "What for?"
Henry Hartwell: For crying out loud, have him get out of this ss.
Claire: ...
When it ca down to it, she still couldn’t do without him.
Every fiber of Claire Sinclair’s being scread in protest, but when she rembered that Teacher Hartwell had been dragged into this ss because of her, she had no choice but to force herself to accept the task.
Finally, with a resigned "Alright," she got up, gathered her things, and prepared to head to Quincy Manor.
...
「The flower and bird market near the Capitol.」
Henry Hartwell set down his phone, picked up a black Go piece, and placed it on the board.
Across from him sat a man well past fifty, playing with the white stones.
The old man grumbled, "You kid, your head isn’t in the ga. Who are you chatting with?"
Henry Hartwell took a leisurely sip of tea and smiled. "Who else? The future First Lady."
"Haha..." The old man laughed. "Looks like your easy days are numbered."
Henry Hartwell heaved a long sigh. "You can say that again. My easy days have been over for a while now. Every day, I have to figure out how to build that girl up. It’s a million tis harder than writing an article. Elder Roland, care to offer any advice?"
The old man stroked his long beard. "A benevolent heart serves all under heaven. That’s the most basic professional ethic for you wordsmiths. I’m a layman, what do I know? I can’t give you any advice. However, you could go and consult Mrs. Hartwell."
"Mrs. Hartwell?"
"That’s right. Mrs. Hartwell is the foremost authority on Aridia’s traditional culture. Having that girl study under her would certainly do her so good."
"I understand. Thank you, Elder Roland."
...
After work, Claire Sinclair crept near Quincy Manor, staring from a distance at its closed iron gate.
’Do I really have to go to that man to save Teacher Hartwell?’
’Maybe I should just call him?’
’But what if he doesn’t pick up?’
Claire Sinclair hesitated for what felt like an eternity, unable to summon the courage to approach. As if on cue, the heavens turned against her, and a few fat, bean-sized raindrops began to fall.
The rain grew thicker, falling harder and faster.
Claire Sinclair held a hand over her head and looked around, but aside from a distant bus stop, there was nowhere to take shelter.
Left with no other choice, she ran for the bus stop to wait out the rain.
Even though she ran as fast as she could, by the ti she reached the stop, she was completely drenched.
Claire Sinclair gasped for breath, wringing the water from her clothes. A sudden, cold gust of wind blew past, chilling her to the bone.
She rubbed her arms and looked up at the gloomy, gray sky.
’With rain this heavy, when is it ever going to stop?’
At that mont, Claire Sinclair felt a wave of helplessness wash over her.
Suddenly, a blinding flash of lightning split the sky, followed by a deafening clap of thunder that seed to crash right down on top of her.
BOOM—
Claire Sinclair jumped. She wasn’t normally afraid of thunder, but with the lightning striking so close, a sliver of fear took root in her heart. She instinctively pressed her back against the bus stop’s railing.
’I haven’t done anything wrong,’ she thought. ’The God of Thunder wouldn’t strike , right?’
Just as her mind began to wander, another bolt of lightning tore across the sky.
BOOM—
The ground itself seed to tremble.
Claire Sinclair flinched and didn’t dare to remain standing, dropping into a squat on the ground.
The heavy rain hamred the pavent, sending up splashes that spattered against her.
With a miserable look on her face, Claire Sinclair stared helplessly at the darkening sky. ’My luck is the absolute worst.’
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