Outside the serene courtyard, the scene unfolded with an air of intrigue. The teahouse, where the gers had initially gathered, was bathed in the warm, golden hues of the setting sun. Its elegant facade exuded an old world charm, inviting patrons to linger over cups of aromatic tea and engage in hushed conversations.
There were even live performances taking place in the depths of the establishment. Hidden from casual view, a world of enchantment awaited.
Muted sounds of harmonious and bewitching melodies wafted to the street in clusters. The occasional high point of a poets recital could barely be heard.
Such a harmonious scene. Or at least, it should have been.
The three gers from the teahouse had exited its ornate wooden doors, their polished shoes clicking lightly on the cobblestone path that led them to the other side of the street.