*Knock, knock,* moved the door on the 1st of February. Cle stood in sight. The whole incident on the Lady abusing her prodigy died per those involved's silence. From the outside in, the Lordon's seemed to have expanded into the Phantom's dynasty. As for the inside, the family was more or less trapped, forced to serve the whims of Elvira. Her mind in trading and getting what she wanted had heightened the name more throughout the world.
The day rose on outside, a small bed barely large enough to hold two people shuffle per the sound of knocking. A small window allowed a sliver of light in the otherwise destitute room. A rotating fan moved in the corner to join hands with the cacophonous morning outside. The thin walls didn't give much in privacy. Parents shouting at kids, others forming newer generations, a typical atmosphere for a less than average inn. *Knock, knock,*
