"... Aah... Such a beautiful song... play it again, darling."

"Penelope, please stop walking around in a towel. It's my mother's favorite."

"Tut, tut, Chop-Chop. She won't notice if I wash and dry this before she gets home. Just leave it to this big sister.... for the record, it's Penny."

"And my name is Chopin. Not the sound you make on a cutting board. Sigh."

Frederic Franciszek Chopin.

Age 17, born and raised in Warsaw, Poland. Current occupation, Steward of the Chopin Family Parlour (a boarding house for school boys).

Aspiration: Music.

The frail looking young man turned to the woman who was wandering around said parlour with frivolous grin.

She truly had nothing touching her body other than a towel, made of rich and colorful material. It was something a mother of three children would feel comfortable in using, in place of her busy husband's warm embrace.

Although the towel did not belong to her, she looked rather content and comfortable. Like a child hugging their favorite blankey as they sleep.

The one thing that stood out for her, other than the fact she was a dancing naked girl, was this peculiar cone hat that sat on her wet hair.

It looked like something a Witch would wear... coincidence?

"Please Miss Witch, If you keep walking half-naked like this... the boys in the house will see you. Also, you'll catch a cold. It's -22 degrees in Warsaw."

"Oh please, they're all in school like any good children... you on the other hand are playing hooky. Naughty, naughty. I should thoroughly spank you☆."

"Cough, cough. As much as I would like to enjoy a regular school life, I'm not feeling well today. Even my doctor said I might have to stay home and repeat a grade next year. Honestly, I'm not happy about this situation."

"Yet you're playing your beloved piano so feverishly."

"You can't stop inspiration."

"So you say, Piano Man."

"Please don't call me that."

......