Situated near a rural village and a few small farms in the countryside of England, St Ophelia's Church and Convent was an aging church known for its secrecy and isolation from the world. Every now and then, a rich family would drop off their spoiled daughters who refused to get a job and move out, or a shy, philosophical woman would voluntarily join to be closer to her faith, but according to the elderly gatekeep and gardener, there were very little comings and goings - that is, few entered and nobody left. The nuns, because it was an all-female convent, tended to grow their own produce with the help of the gardener (a charming friendly old woman who was nearing her retirement) ad would only order outside supplies when in need or if it were something they couldn't get inside of the tall, vine-covered walls.

Aside from that, the creaking Gothic iron gates opened for no one, and the old convent remained a mystery to anyone not a part of it.

One sunny Saturday afternoon, a car pulled up on the gravel outside of the gates. A bell was rang, and the gardener hurried over to open the gates for the inhabitants. The car continued until it was right outside the steps of the chapel before finally stopping, the engine turning off and the door opening.