The Beauty Underneath

Chapter three:

As Amelia and Joséphine ran to the source of the scream, the crowd began to get thicker and thicker. Eventually, after a lot of shouting and pushing, they came to the epicenter of the noise.
It was Julia, as pale as the paper she was clutching in her hand so tightly it had crumpled.
A continuous stream of screaming was pouring from her mouth before she swooned and fainted, falling into the leading man, Maximus', arms. As she fell, Thorin snatched the letter from her, a strange mix of curiosity and sheer terror having etched itself on his face.
With shaking hands, he uncrumpled the letter. He faltered, his eyebrows scrunching as if he was struggling to read what was written. When he eventually made it out, he began to read it aloud:

Hello, those of you who have purchased this opera house.
You should consider yourselves lucky to perform in a building such as this one. Time will only prove if you all are truly worthy of it.
I'm sure you have all heard the stories of what has transpired in these halls. You're very brave, but my requests for you are simple, and if they are followed we shall have no issues.
I shall be generous, as I have a modicum of respect for those still willing to perform here. I ask that you leave me Box 5 to use whenever I see fit. I ask that you leave my salary in that box, merely 10% of any profits you make from performances here.
Any other instructions I shall give to you in further notes if and when they are necessary. If you need any more details, I would ask the black-haired one, she seems to be knowledgeable.
It will do my soul good to see this destitute place filled with music once again.
~O.G.

As Thorin's reading drew to a close, the house was left in terrible silence. Fear, confusion, and a strange sort of thrill had descended upon them. For a moment, there was calm.
And then the screaming started.
Chaos erupted as the anxieties and fears finally boiled over. Objections, questions, and just plain screams came pouring from the mouths of these actors. As Thorin was accosted by Julia and Maximus, Joséphine snatched the letter from his hand. He looked concerned, but didn't have time to dwell on it.
Joséphine scanned the page, a fire in her eyes.
There it was, plain as day, in handwriting that was barely legible: "the black-haired one."
That had to be referring to her, right? She was the only one who had expressed any sort of knowledge of the Phantom as far as she knew...
The letter felt strangely awkward in her hands, and she realized that she was still holding the paper that she had found. She pulled it out from her hand and looked at it more closely.
It was a musical score, short but positively beautiful if one was to imagine what it was to sound like. The notes written for the vocals went high, higher than any song Joséphine had been inclined to sing before.
The lyrics of this song were utterly heartbreaking, describing the pain and betrayal of unrequited love so viscerally, and in a way that was so raw, that it actually brought a tear to Joséphine's eye. Josephine's eyes were not the sort to leak easily. She wiped it away to clear the blur from her vision and her eyes happened to land on the bottom of the page.
O.G. swam into her vision, written in just the same handwriting as was on the letter. Joséphine looked from the letter to the music, the handwriting on each was indistinguishable from the other.
The world around Joséphine seemed to stand still for a brief moment. Here, in her hands, she held compositions by the Opera Ghost himself. She felt as though she had seen the brief glimpse of another dimension through a doorway, like she had stepped into a fantasy novel, or was Alice slipping through the looking glass. Butterflies and fire danced like imps in the pit of her stomach as she shook with sheer excitement.
The brief moment was shattered as Thorin gently took the letter from Joséphine's left hand. She blinked to clear the whirlwind of thought from her mind, not that it did much good.
Amelia's curious eyes scoured Joséphine's as she tried to read her thoughts. Joséphine shook her head in a gesture of: "I shall tell you later."
Thorin called for quiet, which happened after much remaining muttering and sushing.
"Ladies and gentlemen! We are adults, we are professionals! The Phantom is dead, remember?" His typically unwavering patience was waning from the assault of sheer terror and the screaming. His hands fidgeted with the paper.
"This is nothing but a practical joke. It's expected really I-"
"THIS HAD BETTER BE A JOKE!" Julia cried, standing from Maximus' arms with a new look of fiery indignation. "Or you can find yourself a new doyenne, you hear me?"
"I'm not quite sure this is a joke. Look at thi-" Thorin cut Joséphine off with a look that betrayed the exasperation he was trying so desperately to hide.
"Of course you know it's not a joke! You wrote that note, didn't you?" Julia spat at Joséphine, speckling her face with spittle.
"Julia, that's absurd." Thorin said, though his face was doubtful. Joséphine shook her head, now agitated as well.
"Absolutely not. When would I have had the time? And my handwriting doesn't look like this."
"Oh are we really supposed to believe-"
"Mademoiselles!" Thorin finally raised his voice. "It really does not matter. It's a practical joke, it will have no bearing on what is to happen here. We will perform Otello in one week, that is the end of it."
The company nodded and scattered as Thorin gave them their assignments.
Joséphine realized that she was still holding the music and stowed it in a nearby cabinet for safe keeping, wherein she found a quill, a broken mirror, and plenty of dust.

The troupe was used to setting up a production quickly, as they could never afford a space for very long. The main hurdle that they faced was cleaning the infernal dust off of just about everything. They were lucky that the curtains didn't need to be replaced, as that expense would probably have put them under.
No more signs of haunting presented themselves, besides an eerie feeling and general uneasiness. Most of the house's inhabitants just assumed that the letter was a joke, and a good number assumed that Joséphine had been the one to plant it.
Joséphine knew better though.
Her resolve that the ghost had died had crumbled almost instantaneously. Logically, she knew that it was unlikely, but her heart stubbornly refused to let go of the idea that the ghost was alive, and had taken some sort of interest in her. That idea in of itself had a certain allure...
She didn't let herself dwell on that idea, the whole thing was just too absurd.
Still, she couldn't stop herself from wondering, and she wondered right up until she was walking through the doors of Box 5 with Thorin. She paused.
"Is this really wise?" She questioned, glancing around the box as if she was waiting for someone. "Sitting here, I mean."
Thorin sighed. "Joséphine, I cannot run this opera house if my entire cast is scared to upset some mythical ghost. Us sitting here tells them that they don't need to be afraid, at least if he is real, it's us getting punished and not some innocent by-stander."
Joséphine nodded slowly. She knew she should have objected, but the allure of spurring the ghost to action was just too enticing.
The curtains opened, and Otello was in full swing.
It was a show they had all done before, so it went off like a well oiled machine, everyone in their proper place and step. Joséphine let herself zone out and bask in the music, the reason she wanted to work at an opera house in the first place.
It wasn't too long before the ghost made his move, his voice booming from right behind Joséphine and Thorin in Box 5.
"WERE MY INSTRUCTIONS NOT CLEAR!?"
Panic. People tripping over themselves to leave, the horror of the past boiling over in their minds in an instant. Joséphine turned to get a glimpse of this ghost, but there was no one behind her. Faster than sound she flung herself out of the box, dragging Thorin along behind her.
Thorin gasped for air, kneeling on the floor, he looked as though he was a rabbit that had just escaped the coying cat's claws.
"The ghost! He's real?"
"He's here!" Joséphine cried, both panicked and elated.
"Indeed Mademoiselle, I am here." The voice was like nothing either person had ever heard, they backed up against the wall, searching frantically for a source but there wasn't one. The words seemed to emanate from the shadows themselves. "And if you two continue to be insolent, I will ensure your destruction."
The distinctive sound of a cape as the lights went out. Thorin and Joséphine were left with nothing but the darkness and the panic surrounding them.