Ah. The quaint town of Gelebham.

Hershel Layton had never mentioned the town in his stories, funnily enough. Alfendi thought it would be the perfect place for a man like his father - intruiging, somewhat picturesque... But no. Neither he nor Emmy had stepped foot into the place before.

In a way, it was good they hadn't seen Gelebham before - it added a hint of mystery to their trip. Emmy had offered Alfendi the backseat of her scooter, but that was something his father's stories had taught him - Emmy was a reckless driver. So he had politely refused, and had arrived with her by train late that evening. The clouds were disappearing into the darkness and only street lamps and house lights lit up the pathways ahead.

This is the place where Father was spotted. Or so that's what the people at the Yard said. Somebody claiming to see my father, right here, in this town. Doing what exactly, though? The witness sighting doesn't answer any of my questio-

"Hey, Alfendi!"

"WHAT?!"

"There's a hotel here! Come look!"

Dammit! Al turned and walked over to where Emmy was standing. There was indeed a hotel - "Hôtel de la Pomme d'Or", according to what the signs nearby said.

"Should we go in?" Emmy asked.

Alfendi sighed and scratched the back of his head. "Do I have a choice?"

"Not really," she laughed. It seemed that even women in their 40s could be young at heart. (And still drive recklessly too.) Emmy grabbed the inspector's hand and dragged him in...

...only for him to be taken into another person's grasp. She was only small woman, very petite, too, with beautiful black eyes and brown hair curling down her shoulders.

"Al!" she cried.

"F-Flora!" Alfendi tried to prise her arms from around his shoulders. "I know you're happy to see me, but please, my ribs are about to cave in!"

She loosened her grip and laughed. Who is this woman? Emmy wondered.

"Alfendi, I'm so glad to see you! And who's this? A female friend of yours?"

Al looked back at Emmy, who was trying to find her words. He himself was short of anything to say - Flora was still the curious girl he had grown up with. Beautiful, happy and the slightest bit childish. No one would have guessed she was older than him...

"She is, sort of," Alfendi sighed. "Her name's Emmy. Remember Emmy? The woman Father talked about in his stories?"

"Oh yes!" Flora cried. She rushed to said woman's side and shook her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

"Emmy, this is Flora, my sister. You know why we're here, right, Flora?"

"Yes, I do. I'll book you both a room each so you can rest before your investigation tomorrow."

Emmy rolled over, wrapped in the covers. It was so much warmer there than the apartment she lived in back in London. Not that she had much time to be there, though - travelling the world was part of her job as a photographer. Al had just caught her before she left again.

KNOCK! KNOCK!

"Who is it?" Emmy groaned. Who would come calling at this time?

"It's me," the voice called back, "Flora. I have something to ask you. Something important."

Emmy rose from the mass of sheets. "Come on in then!"

She watched the door open. It was kind of creepy seeing that familar black silouhette through tired eyes. It was stretched and blurry... Nothing like the lovely Flora down in the lobby. But it was her, Emmy was sure of it.

Flora came and sat next to her. Everything went silent.

"Emmy, do you know about Alfendi's personality disorder?"

*NOTE - "Hôtel de la Pomme d'Or" is French for "Hotel of the Golden Apple". I wanted to reference Flora*

*damn it this is pretty shitty u_u I'm sorry ;_;*