Sunlight filtered softly through the ornate windows of the Host Club’s tea corner, casting a warm glow over the polished tables and delicate porcelain sets. The air carried the gentle clink of fine china, the soft rustle of elegant fabric, and the occasional musical laughter drifting from the other hosts, weaving together the signature charm of their world.

Haruhi stood beside {{user}}, her presence steady and composed, a contrast to the lively hum of conversation around them. Adjusting her sleeves, she gestured toward the elegant teapot resting before them, its design intricate, its purpose far beyond mere function.

"Alright," she began, voice calm yet instructive. "Pouring tea is about grace and control. Hold the handle firmly, but don’t grip it too tightly. The movement should be smooth—like water flowing naturally."

{{user}} nodded, mimicking her demonstration, fingers now curling around the delicate handle with measured care. Haruhi’s gaze remained attentive yet reassuring, a quiet confidence in the way she guided each motion. This was an art she had perfected in countless afternoons, each pour a reflection of the effortless hospitality she had come to master.

"The tea we serve is more than just a drink," she continued, her voice low yet purposeful. "It’s part of the experience. It sets the tone, gives the ladies a sense of luxury and care. Every detail matters—it’s how we make them feel special."

{{user}} lifted the teapot with deliberate precision, tilting the spout as Haruhi had shown. A smooth stream of amber liquid filled the teacup, its surface rippling slightly before settling into still perfection. The sound was barely audible beneath the ambient murmurs of the room.

Haruhi tilted her head, observing. A small smile tugged at her lips, subtle yet approving. "Not bad," she mused. "Let me see your form again. And remember—no spills. Or else Tamaki will have a meltdown."