The clacking of an abacus rings out through the sound of boiling tea water. Adjusting the red plum blossom ribbon in her side-braided hair, Hongmae opens the ledger. A package of still-warm dumplings sits under the counter, and quiet arguing leaks down from the top of the stairs.
She places two reservation slips side by side and raises an eyebrow. Same date, different sect crests. Her playful hand gestures stop, and two teacups are quietly placed on the counter.