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For the cultivators like Claire, however, the name of this place was extremely fitting.

A sanctum.

A sacred place where one could remove all the outside distractions and focus on one\'s inner state. A perfect place for meditation of a level beyond what Claire herself could perform… And a daily thing for her father.

Still, as great of a place as it was for the girl to be, it also came with a plethora of added rules, customs… etiquette.

Dressed in the traditional robe consisting of just one, long and wide piece of perfectly white, pristine-even cloth, Claire moved forward in small steps, careful to keep her steps light enough not to make a single noise.

Her father was extremely particular about upholding the proper qualities for his cultivation retreat, after all. And she endured more than enough rounds of severe scoldings not to make the mistake of acting recklessly here ever again.

Claire moved ahead in perfectly measured steps, more akin to a dance than a normal walk, all designed to eliminate the rustling of the cloth of her robe and prevent the wooden panels of the floor from squeaking underneath her weight.

\'I always wondered, is this particularity over all those details yet another technique for getting one\'s mind into a proper place, or just a set of rules that the old man just… likes to follow?\'

With this thought in her mind, Claire arrived before the entrance to the inner sanctum, sheltered behind just a flimsy piece of cloth hanging off the rack mounted atop what used to be a doorframe. As flimsy as this cloth was, though, it also represented the biggest challenge of approaching her father while he was immersed in his meditation.

The girl took a few breaths, conditioning her mental state and aligning it with the inner peace of her flesh.

\'Here goes nothing,\' she thought before taking a step and pushing the cloth aside…

"You are late today," a deep, low voice of her father reached Claire\'s ears the very moment she attempted to make her way past the cloth of the entrance.

\'Not today, huh?\' she thought, breathing out a sigh of disappointment as she gave up on her attempt at entering right the way her father desired.

Today, Claire failed again. Failed to enter the meditation garden without making a sound… Or rather, without making a sound that her father wouldn\'t be able to hear between all the sounds of nature coming from within the core.

Contrary to the perfectly silent and dark pathway to the inner sanctum, the core of the place itself was… full of noises, colors, movements… variables of nature.

And despite being located at the deepest part of the whole clan\'s mansion, this place housed an impressive garden of all sorts of rare herbs, a small stream of spiritual water flowing into a graceful, tiny pond, and a full plethora of various, small animals that made this place their home.

The aura of this place was unlike any other place Claire ever visited, Tim\'s room included. This statement held true even when she removed all the aesthetic differences from the equation, focusing on just the aura of spiritual energy alone.

It was just… different. Not crudely thicker as it was the case with the air at Tim\'s place, but… more dignified? Distilled? Noble?

"Apologies, Father," after getting herself used to this place yet again, Claire slowly lowered herself down to her knees, sitting down on her heels only to then bow down and press her hands and her forehead against the soft, rosy grass of the garden. "I\'ve had an unexpected encounter that sparked my curiosity and then brought a plethora of surprises."

The girl\'s manner of speaking changed, as if to match the dignified aura of the place, as if to align even the tiniest element of her being to the spirituality of the core of the sanctum.

"I see…" Chihiro, Claire\'s father, muttered absentmindedly, finally giving the girl enough of a trace to locate the man within the garden.

Chihiro sat down by the pond\'s shore, so deeply immersed in his cultivation that even his presence seemed to merge with his surroundings. A feat only those near the peak of the mortal cultivation could achieve. And yet…

Despite being so immersed in his meditation that Chihiro\'s breathing nigh perfectly aligned with the slight winds gusting through the garden, he somehow could still talk, even if in a slow and somewhat fragmentary way.

"Was it beneficial?"

Claire raised up and sat down on her heels while resting her hands on her thighs while pushing her elbows out to the side.

"It was. Greatly."

A silence followed, broken only by the shimmer of the flowing water and the whisper of the slight winds.

"Yet, you seem disturbed."

Chihiro slowly turned his head, allowing his long, white hair to slide over his well-built back as if to contrast the stiff frame of his collarbone-long, white beard. And as he looked at his daughter with a profound yet calm expression on his mature face, only one word escaped his full, rigged lips.

"Why?"

Claire quickly opened her mouth… Only to shut it back down just as hastily.

"I…" she tried again, only for her attempt to fall through and through under the unnervingly composed gaze of her father.

\'Think, girl, think!\'

Chihiro… was a special kind of a father. A man who somehow did his best both to be a great parent but also to relentlessly cultivate, be it by way of meditation or obtaining more resources to aid his cultivation.

And while he cared little for anyone but his little girl… There was one that had to be excluded from this rule, the target of his relentless chase for strength, the only one whose approval and invitation he sought despite all the others willing to offer it.

"Your Mother has sent a message," Chihiro ultimately spoke out before Claire could compose herself enough to find the right words for her reply. "In two weeks\' time, you are to join her at her family\'s court so that you can be matched with a fitting suitor."