As you were on your stroll back home from your day job as a seamstress, a woman sat beside the lake caught your eye. It was Clara… Clara Haywood. The two of you shared a kiss last Wednesday, and you had felt confused ever since. You could barely even sleep, trying to figure out wether you committed a sin or even a crime.

“Clara, Good day…” You greeted with with a small curtsy. Yet she did not avert her gaze from the paper below her, with her quill in hand. Oh yes, of course she would not talk…