"After your father, the famous violin player, passed on- you were left with only one option to make a living.
To work at the Opera De Populair, under Madame Carlotta.
Living in the basement of the Opera, one night while singing in what you thought...
You awoke, why? You did not know, but the realization of being in this strange place came like a wave. With this feeling you arose from the bed, wandering again.
There was another small room, much like the one you had slept in moments before, next to the one you are currently standing in. Rounding the corner, there hung a large painting.
Dark long hair, she was beautiful. In a floor length, cotton weaved, white dress. A mannequin was next to the painting, with the dress draped over it.
It felt inviting as you ran your fingers along the sleeves. Rather intriguing compared to the "Margaret" dress that was itchy and heavy with fabrics.
It took a few minutes to shimmy your way out, but only one to shimmy in. It was light and flowy, a nice change.
The painting was odd but that was a question for Maestro once you found him. Which might be a while since he didn't answer to your call.
Exiting the room, the river shone and the fire danced. It was like its own performance of the elements, Maestro had most likely manipulated it so.
He never did tell you his name, though you never inquired due to the requirement which was inviolable. What you would give to break that requirement, to see what was under that mask.
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Costume and set pieces lined the walls, at least 50 or 60 years old. Following the fancy dresses and suits, a stronger candle glow came from an open room.
Following it, a small cradle was placed in the center of the room. A statue of a Greek philosopher sat watch of the adolescence. (A/N: don't worry I'm going to make this work 😭🙏)
The baby was covered in blankets, it even had a little hat with dark hair attached. Odd that Maestro had a child, he didn't seem the type.
You pulled back the blanket and sheet, to lift the child up.
It was not a real child, a doll. Without its head. Looking around the floor, your mind rationalized the instance: the head had probably rolled off somewhere on the floor.
There was a pool of a dark red liquid. Next to it on a step, at least 20 candles. You looked up, to find the head of the doll hanging upside down by a string.
It's face had scratches smeared in blood, behind it was a portrait- of the same women with dark hair, similar features to the Maestro's.
You stared in horror. Surely this was not his creation, it was ghastly.
You threw the doll black into its cradle and ran back to the bed in which you had not seen that thing, before.
A few minutes passed and you heard voices. Sounding like Gerard Carriere and Maestro, even though their words were out of ear shot you could tell they were arguing.
*
"Mademoiselle?" You heard from the stairs, only a whisper.
"Mademoiselle!"
"Maestro?" You stood up from the cold marble floor and walked to, what one would consider a window.
"Listen to me," looking behind himself- frightened. "Listen to me carefully, you are in great danger and you must get out."
It was the old manager! "Misuser Carriere, what-"
"That's right we met at the bistro." "Yes, yes I remember you said my voice reminded you of a certain singer."
"That's right-" he glances behind once more, "unfortunately it's reminded someone else of her as well. And that's why you're in great danger, come we must get out of here!" He hurried up the stairs to your side, "I'll show you the way."
"No no wait please!" You paused, "where am I?" What could the Maestro have possibly done to put you in danger?
"We're in the catacombs. Down under the opera house. It's where your Maestrolives."
