The Man Clad in Black (Phantom of the Opera)

Black and Blue - Chapter 2

"Pardon me if I sound rude, Monsieur, but it's quite dark— I can't see a thing!" you frowned, snagging your dress from off of an edge of the wall.

The man didn't say anything. He only continued to walk, not doing so much as glancing back to reveal his mildly frustrated expression. This troubled you.

"Monsieur?"

Still no reply.

You gave up after a while. You were planning on asking where you were going and such, although due to the fact that you hadn't received a response as of now, you doubted that you would get one later.

As you continued to weave throughout the opera house, making a collection of sharp turns, a candelabra was quick to catch your eye.

The sight around it, however, was foreign to you.

The walls were no longer marble. They seemed to be poorly-made from brick and stone, and perhaps burnt with residue from countless candles from before. It wreaked of dirty water and rain.

"Monsieur, where are we—" you started, although you remembered that you would receive no reply.

He continued to lead you to wherever, and before you knew it, one candelabra turned into hundreds. You barely even noticed that he had taken you upon a boat, and as you marveled at the sights around you, he simply rowed you to the shore of (what you assumed to be) a sort of lair.

Aside from the candelabras, there were many curtains mirrors all around. There were steps leading up to an organ, and scattered throughout this so-called "lair" were multiple toys and artifacts that seemed to be useless.

"Monsieur... Where are we?" you asked, still breathless. Your voice was a little harsher than usual, but you hoped that it would make him give you an answer that would suffice.

For the first time since he commanded you to come with him, he spoke.

"It's where I live," he said softly.

He said nothing after that. You continued to glance around, and as soon as he helped you out of the boat, you sent him a smile before continuing to look around, you would have never suspected that there was this much room anywhere in the opera house.

"This is incredible," you muttered. The echo of this area was magnificent - the water dripping seemed to be ten times as loud as it should be.

The man didn't say anything. He simply took of his cloak and rested it on his arm, then rushing to pull open a few curtains.

His tremendous amount of ruckus earned a glance from you. You were no longer concerned about your surroundings— your focus was now on the man who had brought you here.

You couldn't help but be mesmerized by him entirely. He was far taller than you were, and his crystal eyes, while focused on the task at hand, seemed to be saturated with an emotion that was impossible to pinpoint. The feature you were most drawn to, however, was his mask. The ivory was plated to his face almost perfectly. You were curious as to why he wore such a mask, and of course, you wanted to see what lies underneath.

You snapped out of your thought once he approached you again. In one of his arms, he held a snow-white night gown, and it seemed to be your exact size.

"Here," he said softly, not daring to meet your eyes.

As you took the nightgown, the silk unbelievably soft in your arms, you smiled and mumbled a "thank you."

"Go. Change quickly— I have work to do."

His sudden change in expression caught you a little off-guard. Had he really just wanted you to get out of his hair?