It was a fairly normal day at the Zoldyck mansion. Servants were moving around as they do their chores. Everything was fairly normal.

Silva Zoldyck, the patriarch, sat in his room on top of his huge sofa that looked more like his throne. He sift through the various assassination requests that he received as his guard dog snored beside him. However, the somewhat peaceful scene was abruptly interrupted by the sound of a knock on the door.

Silva: “Come in.”