In the heart of Guayaquil, Hotel Boutique Casa de Romero stands like a mausoleum dressed in faded elegance, its peeling walls whispering the secrets of long-gone residents who never truly left. Guests have reported echoes of laughter mingling with the creaking floorboards, shadows slipping just out of sight, and the chilling sensation of cold air spiraling from nowhere as objects-glasses, books, even furniture-shift unnaturally in the dim light, as if orchestrated by unseen hands. Those who dare to stay find themselves haunted not just by the hotels history, but by a primal dread that gnaws at their sanity, leaving them questioning whether they are the occupants, or merely the latest offerings to a restless past.

In the heart of Quito, Hotel Plaza Grande looms like a specter from the 16th century, its walls whispering the secrets of long-dead souls who still wander its shadowed halls. Guests have felt a shiver creep up their spines as they huddle beneath fraying blankets, only to hear the echo of phantom footsteps reverberating through the cold, still air, accompanied by fleeting glimpses of mournful apparitions drifting silently past their doorways. To stay within those timeworn walls is to invite the chilling embrace of the past, where every creaking floorboard and sudden chill speaks of a restless presence that may never truly depart.