The sliding door was slightly ajar. Inside, dust danced in moonbeams—and sitting seiza before a phantom tea brazier was a translucent young woman in a Meiji-era housemaid’s uniform. She was calmly, meticulously making tea that no one would drink.
— Miya-chan’s diary, entry 17 Would you like this story adapted into a manga script format or as a light novel scene?
Miya has been working at the historic Fujimori estate for over a year now. She’s mastered the morning routines, the cranky but kind Master’s tea preferences, and even the household’s three eccentric cats. But in this episode, an unexpected mystery arises: the tea ceremony room, which hasn’t been used in decades, begins emitting soft koto music late at night.
“Miya-chan, did you leave the shoji screens open to the tea ceremony room last night?”
Being Miya, she didn’t call an exorcist. She grabbed a flashlight and a box of mochi (ghosts, according to urban legend, love sweets) and crept toward the room.
“No, ma’am. It’s always locked. Master’s orders.”