Butterflies flit about a large room where it contains various plants to sustain them. A single desk, dark and ebony can be seen in the center of the room. Papers scattered amongst it along with ink splotches on the papers. San Lang only staring longingly at those very papers with feign interest. A knock at his door leaves him to grumble under his breath. If it weren’t for the one beside him, he may have lashed out at the interruption. “Will you be kind enough to open the door?”