Phantom of the Opera

The director is not willing to give you the lead role just like that, but a palpable fear shines in his eyes every time he glances toward the shadows. He fears the Phantom may decide to seek revenge. However, you believe that if you always yield to his demands, the Phantom will feel more powerful and become increasingly difficult to control. So, with your heart pounding but your voice firm, you decline the leading role. You believe this will prevent implicating the manager and the rest of the opera staff, it is your way of protecting them. ---- You are running late. The impatient voices of the workers echo on the other side of the door, urging you to hurry. You change in a rush, but as you leave, something gets caught on the wardrobe without you noticing. When you return to hang up the dress properly, a shred of torn fabric stops you in your tracks. The hem is completely ripped. How is this possible? Could it have caught on something sharp? A cold wave of relief washes over you. Thank goodness you discovered it now. If you had seen it minutes before going on stage… you wouldn't have had time to fix it. Meg is in charge of fixing and storing your dresses, and there's no way it could have been like this when the tailor gave it to you. Is it possible that someone tore it on purpose? When you remember how hard Meg worked to fix your dress, you feel anger rising inside you. You have to find out what happened! --- You burst into the hallway where several colleagues are chatting. "Has someone been in my dressing room?" "____, what's wrong?" one asks, frowning. "What's happening?" "Someone ruined one of my dresses while I was away." "How?" Another one approaches. "Are you sure? You didn't tear it by accident, did you?" A third one visibly pales. "What if... it was the Phantom?!" "I don't know," you reply, suppressing the wave of panic the word unleashes. "That's why I'm asking if any of you know what happened. If it was an attempt by the Phantom to humiliate me, he wouldn't have just torn one dress." "Think about it," Meg interjects, approaching quickly. "Did anyone see anyone enter ____'s dressing room?" A younger employee looks at the floor nervously. "Now that you mention it, I think I saw Carlotta in that direction last night..." "Carlotta?" you repeat, feeling a knot of anger forming in your stomach. "But I'm not sure," he hastens to add. "I didn't see her go into your dressing room, I was in a hurry to get home and didn't pay attention." "____, shall we go and ask her together?" Meg grabs your arm determinedly. "She's here for rehearsal." Almost instantly, you bump into her at a crossroads. "Well, well," her voice is like a blade of ice. "Where are your manners? Don't you know how to apologize when you bump into people?" "Carlotta, I'm going to have to steal a moment of your time." "You?" She looks you up and down with disdain. "And why is that? My time is too valuable to waste on people like you." She raises her chin, implying you should get out of her way, but you both stand your ground. You have to restrain yourself from falling for her provocations and focus on the reason you were looking for her. "Did you go into my dressing room last night?" "Why would I go into your dressing room?" she replies with a sharp laugh. "It's too far away, It holds no interest for me." "That means you at least know where it is, doesn't it?" She freezes for a moment. She clears her throat and lifts her chin even higher. "The dressing rooms for the common actors are on the first floor, aren't they? It's obvious yours is there too." "Let's get to the point," you take a step forward, your patience wearing thin. "And I expect you to answer me honestly. Last night you were seen going to my dressing room, and today I realized that someone had torn one of my dresses. Was it you or not?" Hearing the accusation, her smile twists into a scornful grimace. "Who saw me? Tell whoever it was to come and say it to my face! If your clothes have been torn, maybe you should think about why so many people hate you. Not only you bewitch nobles with your love affairs," she spits the words, "but you also take advantage of men to steal my leading role! Maybe you even wrote the Phantom's letter yourself. With all your friends underhanded tricks, who are you to criticize others?" "I won't let you drag Raoul into this," you exclaimed, feeling the heat rise to your face. "I'm competing with you fairly!" "No one would believe your lies! You won't take my position away from me with your dirty tricks. I'm going to tell everyone about your schemes. All of Paris will despise you!" "You have no proof against me, Carlotta. You'll pay for trying to destroy someone else's dignity." "Proof?" she replies with a venomous smile. "You have no proof that it was me who ruined your dress either. I'm not going to argue with you any more. We don't all have so much free time!" Carlotta turns on her heel and storms off. You can't stop her, but you're convinced that one day the truth will come out. --- During rehearsal, Carlotta is irritable. She complains about everything, saying that her bad mood is “someone else's fault.” She leaves early, and since everyone is used to her behavior, no one says anything. Since the rehearsal cannot continue without the lead actress, it ends up being canceled. You return to your dressing room while anger and sadness wage war inside you. "Why do things keep getting more complicated? I came here to pursue my dreams..." "____, it's not your fault," a voice whispers from nowhere, so familiar that the tears trapped in your eyes threaten to fall. "Sometimes, it's normal to encounter people with bad intentions; it's impossible to predict." "Angel of Music, you're here!" you exclaim, relieved to hear his voice. "Have you come to comfort me?" "I think you need company, and I promised I would always be by your side when you needed me." Until now, you had managed to hold back the emotional flood. But hearing his voice, the dam breaks. Tears fall freely down your cheeks. "Why does everyone misunderstand my actions?" you whimper, burying your face in your hands. "I have never considered cheating. I don't want to use Raoul's position, and I don't want anything to do with the Phantom!" "People only know how to judge others based on the 'truth' they believe is right," his voice replies, tinged with a profound sadness that takes you by surprise. "They don't care to learn what is actually true, nor do they care about others' lives. It is utterly useless to try to change their minds." His words move you; he understands perfectly how you feel when others think things about you that aren't true. You don't want to have to hold back your feelings anymore. Right now, the dressing room belongs to you alone. With your Angel of Music silently accompanying you, you let the tears consume you completely. "____, I know you've been holding on for a long time," he says after a long silence. "I wish I could take away your sadness. But I can never be like Raoul, I can't truly accompany you. Does that make you sad?" "No, Angel of Music," you reply immediately, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. "Don't think that. I know you're always protecting me. How could I blame you for that? You are the brightest lamp that lights up when I feel most alone. I will always be grateful to you for the mere fact that you exist." "____," his voice sounds strangely vulnerable, "you don't know how much I would like to always be as perfect as you imagine me to be..." "Angel of Music... you sound a little sad. Has my mood affected you? I'm sorry, I'm being very selfish..." "____," he insists, with an urgency that baffles you, "if one day you discover that I'm not as good as you imagine, would you hate me?" "Why are you asking me that all of a sudden?" you reply, confused but firm. "Of course I wouldn't hate you! Nobody's perfect. Besides, you've never abandoned me or blamed me for my flaws. In fact, you never tire of teaching me and accompanying me. Every time you sing with me, I feel my soul vibrate. You once told me that music reflects people's true selves. I will always trust you." "____, you're not going to abandon me, are you?" "Of course not, you have my word." "I know you trust me completely. Don't worry, I'll help you fulfill your dreams. Let's not think about anything else that might distract us. Today I'm going to teach you how to perform the prima donna's aria." "Prima donna? But...I..." "Trust yourself, ___. You'll have your chance soon, you have to start practicing in advance." You practice an aria that doesn't belong to you with tenacity alongside the Angel of Music. You wonder if he's only saying this to comfort you... ---- A few days later, the long-awaited premiere of the play finally arrives. The theater is packed; tickets sold out weeks ago. All the spectators are eager to see Carlotta's performance. "The director has made some changes on purpose, I'm sure it will turn out even better than before!" the opera director declares proudly. "The set and props are all ready, there can't be any problems," an employee informs him. "Perfect. We are one of the best opera companies in the world, we have to be cautious in every step we take." It should be a wonderful performance, everyone expects it to become legendary. No one could imagine the disaster that was about to unfold... Carlotta appears on stage, radiant. She opens her mouth to sing the first notes... "The petals of love depend on the caresses of the summer wind. They will result in a beautiful flower the next time we meet... Croak! At our next meeting... Croak!" Instead of her crystal-clear voice, a guttural, harsh, and completely grotesque sound comes out of her throat. "My God!" someone in the audience whispers. "Did you hear that?!" "What was that? It wasn't our imagination, was it?" another replies. "I just long for the moment of sweet rest... Croak!" The audience falls silent, paralyzed by disbelief. "What's wrong with Carlotta?! Why is she croaking like a frog?! My God! This is an official performance!" The director screams hysterically, unable to comprehend how something like this could be happening. Every time Carlotta opens her mouth to sing, she can't help but croak like a frog. The sound is so loud that the echo reverberates throughout the hall. She remains on stage with a distraught expression. It's obvious that she's scared to death. "My God, she must be possessed!" The director shouts again, his face contorted with panic. Obviously, Carlotta is having the hardest time. She may be trying to call for help, but every time she opens her mouth, all she can do is croak. "What are you waiting for? Get her out of there!" orders the director, hysterical. "My God, how embarrassing! This is definitely the worst prank I've ever been played in my professional career!" Carlotta closes her mouth in fear as a cold sweat runs down her body. She shakes her body helplessly several times in the middle of the stage. Whispers begin to spread through the audience that she is possessed. The opera workers rush to lower the curtain, but it's too late... Carlotta tries to speak, to beg, but all that comes out is another deafening "CROAC!" Finally, her eyes roll back and she collapses unconscious on the stage. The curtain falls with a bang, ending the most grotesque farce the Paris Opera has ever witnessed. The silence it leaves behind is more terrifying than any applause.