Multifandom content, mostly Devil May Cry centered. Right now I'm writing mainly for DMC but I may expand to other media in the future. Make yourself feel at home!
Evening before the First Night
First Night: Perfume
Second Night: Dreams
Third Night: Possession
Fourth Night: Deal
Afternoon before the Fifth Night: Dessert
Fifth Night: Lust
Morning after the Fifth Night: Pillow Talk
Sixth Night: Forbidden Fruit
Seventh Night: In The Name
Eight Night: Dominating
Music of the Night (Phantom of the Opera AU)
Prologue: Meeting You
Chapter 1: Hauntings
Chapter 2: Secrets and Surprises
Chapter 3: Songs of Innocence and Experience
Chapter 4: An Angel Ready to Take Flight
First Interlude: A Little Light in the Darkness
Chapter 5: Revelation
Chapter 6: Both Angel and Demon
Chapter 7: Nightingale in the Cage
Chapter 8: Omens
Second Interlude: Origins
Chesire (Werecat! V one-shot, for and inspired by @minteyeddemon)
Dante x Reader Fanfics
Red Riding Hood and the Red Devil (200 Followers Special)
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
In Control (Valentine’s day one-shot for @tehrevving)
Vergil x Reader Fanfics
The Blue Eyed King’s Gift (Fairy Tale AU)
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Drunk uncle Dante explains
Christmas
How babies are made
DMC Headcanons
The boys are transformed into smol adorable kittens
And now we have another interlude before our next chapter. However this interlude seems completely different from the last one. What do these files mean and how do they play in our story? Perhaps here we can find some clues about the truth behind everything...
Warnings: None. More under the cut.
Tagging:
@thedyingmoon
@minteyeddemon
@vampiregirl1797
If you wish to be tagged in this story let me know in the comments or through inbox.
………………….
Second Interlude: Origins
- The following is an excerpt from the compendium ‘Daemonologie: A report about Inferno and its inhabitants’ written by investigative journalist Antonio Redgrave. -
The existing records in theologic archives mention the sealing of the Underworld and its inhabitants due to the brave actions of the demon Sparda, baptised as Legendary Dark Knight by devoted humans and followers. However, even as our Human Realm has remained separated from Inferno for millenia, the aftermath of the demonic invasion and subsequent war left its print in the current balance between both realms, thus originating certain fractured points in our world where the existing barrier is more fragile.
Interpreting these fractured points as ‘rifts’ in the fabric of time and space allows us to begin to comprehend the presence of demons in our world nowadays. In order for an infernian to exploit one of these rifts and cross over to our realm, an amount of energy and human blood proportional to the power and ranking of the demon must be used, amounts that, in almost every case, can’t be obtained solely in Inferno. This, however, is where human intervention plays an important part.
Many dangerous cults in history have been known to perform demonic rituals where numerous blood offerings and sacrifices were offered in the hopes of achieving a summon. The success of these rituals depends if the blood manages to match the requirements for the demon and if the offering takes place in one of these rifts. There are cases where other resources (such as demonic paraphernalia) could be important to achieve a successful summon.
Once a demon has been unleashed into the human world, many fatal consequences could follow, the most frequent being listed and explained below.
(…)
Daemonum Possessio
(Latin ‘Demonic Possession’) The taking of a human body and mind under the control of a creature from Inferno. This normally occurs when a demon has been forced into the Human Realm after a particularly unstable or botched summoning ritual.
The infernian manages to enter our realm of existence, albeit with much of its energy consumed due to interferences during the ritual. In its weakened state, the demon will hide and search for the most vulnerable human being it can reach, and then latch onto the victim’s soul. These creatures are more likely to target people with mental illnesses, emotional or personal issues, apathy or malice towards others, etc. Whatever weakness they find in the subject, they will exploit to gain access to their soul and leech off their life energy. It is important to note that babies, children, and elders with cognitive diseases (eg. Dementia, Alzheimer) are also considered vulnerable to these attacks, since their minds are especially susceptible to the influence and manipulations of an infernian.
Once a demon has latched onto a victim’s soul and started draining their life force, the host will begin to experience health issues which then evolve and worsen with time. Such symptoms may vary depending on the type of demon, but generally include fatigue, hypertension, anemia, tachycardia, sleep disorders, hallucinations, severe weight-loss, etc.
The only method of combating a demonic possession is through performing an exorcism. It is imperative that this process is performed as soon as there is confirmation of a demonic presence inside a human body, as the longer an infernian stays latched onto the soul, the stronger it will become and the harder it will be to combat. Failure to exorcise and expel an infernian out of its victim’s body in time not only results in the victim’s ultimate death, but a high probability of the demon regaining its full power and being unleashed upon the world.
(...)
Human encounters with infernians are known to result in tragedy and, in the worst case scenario, inescapable death. Although human priests, exorcists and devil hunters are under constant training to deal against the forces of Inferno should an incident emerge, casualties are bound to happen with enemies as powerful as the inhabitants of Hell.
For one to battle and triumph over a demon, three conditions must be met: A strong body trained to fight under supernatural circumstances, an enduring mind to not succumb to their cunning schemes and manipulations, and an unbreakable spirit to keep their influence from extinguishing the will to keep on fighting and achieve victory. Body, Mind and Soul, all three elements must remain immovable and resilient, the latter being the most important out of the three. This leads us to the one characteristic that humans possess but infernians lack, one with the potential to change the tides of any battle: Human Will.
(...)
Daemonum Imperator
(Latin ‘Demon Commander’ or ‘Demon Arbiter’) Name given to a human with the ability to summon, command and control demon familiars contracted and bound to them.
During a demonic possession, there are extremely rare instances where both human and infernian create a sort of ‘synergy’, a mutualistic relationship in which the infernian (or more than one infernian) is allowed to remain latched onto the soul to feed under the condition that it will neither deplete the host’s life force or attempt against their body and mind. In exchange, the bound infernian must protect and obey the host at all times. This relationship has been named ‘Faustian Contract’ in reference to the famous novel ‘Faust’ by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, and the infernians bound to it are then known as ‘demon familiars’. The requirements to achieve a faustian contract remain unknown, but a theory suggests that an excepcionally powerful will is needed to make the demon in question submit to one's dominion.
Evocation and control of an infernian, however, is a controversial practice, labeled as taboo in many societies. Considered to be nigh impossible to perform with success, the practice has been banned world-wide, deemed too dangerous and with lethal consequences. The fact that the number of written records regarding established demon commanders are scarce and rare to find is more than enough proof of the hazards this practice poses. The mere act of willingly allowing an infernian into one’s soul would be perceived as unthinkable, not to mention that failure to achieve a faustian contract would result in a certain tragic end… and if one were to be reckless enough to attempt to bind and evoke a high ranking demon, the grave consequences could end up costing thousands of human lives.
………………….
- The following is an entry found in the journal of a priest of the Order of the Sword. Date remains unknown. -
Once I found my true calling in priesthood, and despite the inherent naivety that comes with childhood and adolescence, I understood that the path of a devout servant of God was not a simple one, and definitely not one that many are qualified to take. Humankind is flawed, just as The Creator intended, for if something is perfect then it can’t be beautiful. We stand on the fine line that divides light and darkness, good and evil, heaven and hell... We are the chaos in between, and that is the beauty of our existence.
However, it is difficult for one to remain steady above this delicate barrier between opposite forces, and in the many years I have lived these eyes of mine have witnessed far too many souls losing their balance and falling into the despair of darkness, some of them willingly. That is our blessing and our curse as humans: the seed of evil is already planted in our hearts, and although it is up to us to choose whether to nurture it or not, many choose to devote their lives to darkness and the suffering of others.
Which is why I have trained and fortified my spirit, it is my duty as a Priest to help and guide other spirits from straying too far into the light or dark, and preaching through example is the best way we can help others. However I must admit, there have been a few instances in which my faith falters, times when doubt clouds my mind and spirit, and uncertainty anchors into my heart. I believe this one event is probably the worst of them all. Perhaps writing these words may bring some consolation and peace to my aching heart.
This all started with a particular devout worshipper, a young woman from a humble family with a pious heart that warmed the spirit. She was a frequent visitor to this church, a lamb whose sins consisted at most of white lies and small acts of rebellion; nothing too serious, her good actions definitely outweighed whatever other flaws she could have had.
I was the first to notice one morning during service. The light in her eyes had been extinguished, her smile gone and never to return. She requested shelter at the church which I granted with no problem, she never explained why she ran away from home. The nuns took care of her, but as much as they did their best, it seemed the young woman had lost all interest in keeping herself alive. I tried contacting her family, only to learn they had died in a tragic accident. To make matters worse, she was pregnant, the father had abandoned her and the baby from what I could understand. Alone in the world, pregnant with a baby, and scared… How I cried for that poor woman.
We did our best to save her, but we failed. The midwife managed to save the baby, but the young mother died due to exhaustion and lack of a will to live. I remember the moment when I granted her the plenary indulgence, when I saw her eyes I knew she was not going to survive for much. I prayed and blessed her soul, hoping The Creator would receive her with open arms and grant her a place in the peaceful afterlife, it was what she deserved. She exhaled her last breath… and passed away.
The midwife saved the baby, but it was a short lived victory. Her scream resounded through the ancient walls of the church, a sound that could almost awake the dead. When we rushed to her we discovered the reason: black markings grew and slithered around the newborn’s skin. The poor baby boy didn’t cry, he was alive but not for long. A demon had taken possession of the newborn.
The nuns were alarmed. There was nothing we could do.
The child laid very still, pale, cold to the touch.
I took the baby to the river nearby, my mind having figured that baptising him was the least I could do for the little one before a burial could be arranged. I poured a little water onto the child’s forehead, but before I could continue, his tiny hand twitched. He was still alive, but barely.
I… I was weak…
I left the newborn on a boat that floated nearby, untying the small vessel from the moss-covered dock. I couldn’t bring myself to harm him, I knew that ending the boy’s life would leave the demon without sustain, thus erradicating the foul creature. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I could never hurt a child, never one so fragile and innocent.
So I left the baby’s fate to Lord Sparda and The Creator, but not without a prayer and a blessing.
I don’t know what became of that boy, if he lived or not, I will probably never know. What happened that night haunts me every time I close my eyes. At first the guilt wouldn’t stop burning my chest, I lost count of the times I confessed to the same sin.
Mother and child would then continue to haunt me for the rest of my life, but now I’ve learned how to live with that loss. I shall continue my duties as a priest until my dying breath, and if The Creator grants me the blessing of welcoming my soul to the great afterlife, I hope to see them there so I can finally apologize in person.
Sorry for the extra week delay, it seems each chapter for this story is taking me more time than I expected. But I do hope this one meets your expectations.
The Opera House’s mystery is starting to unfold, but the truth behind it could be greater than what our characters are prepared to handle. Are you ready?
Warnings: A bit of angst. Full story under the cut.
Tagging:
@thedyingmoon
@minteyeddemon
@vampiregirl1797
If you wish to be tagged in this story let me know in the comments or through inbox.
………………….
Chapter 8: Omens
The Opera House was ready to close its gates for the day, another successful day reaching its end. With everything in order for the scheduled performances the next day, all staff members were dismissed and allowed to retire home. The premises were now devoid of people, the only exceptions being the night shift security guards that rounded the premises.
… Actually, there was another person who remained inside the theatre, none other than Madame Trish, who had one last duty to take care of before leaving. Ever alert and glancing back from time to time, she made sure the halls were empty before she reached her destination. The red velvet curtain stood as impeccable as always, but the same couldn’t be said about the plaque above its threshold. Dull and without any luster left, the number ‘4’ engraved in the gilded plaque remained a bad omen to the superstitious. Not once had the box been occupied, the only visitors being the cleaning staff, but even they hesitated to set a foot in there to do their job.
Trish however, did not buy that make-believe. Nevertheless, she had to admit the box was quite the mystery, especially now that Monsieur Lefevre had confided in her this particular monthly task.
She examined the black envelope in her hands. There was no name or address written in it, only a cursive ‘V’ marked in the seal behind. With a last glance to her sides, she kneeled down and slipped the envelope beneath the heavy curtain. Mission accomplished, or at least until the next end of the month.
But as she turned to leave, something in her gut stopped her in her tracks. She glanced back at the curtain, the soft velvet immovable and inconspicuous. Yet the voice inside her head kept telling her that there was… something.
With slow steady steps, she approached the curtain. A dead silence took over the entire building, so heavy and powerful that Trish could hear her heartbeat pounding in her head.
Her hand reached out and yanked the curtain to the side.
… Nothing.
The box was empty, a subtle layer of dust settled on the railing’s surface. Trish let out a huff of disappointment before closing the curtain and walking away. “I don’t know why I even bother.” She hummed mostly to herself. “It’s just a dumb superstition.”
If only Madame Trish had glanced down at her feet the moment she checked inside the mysterious Box number Four, then she would have all the confirmation she needed that her instincts were actually accurate.
For the black envelope had already vanished into the shadows.
………………….
As the casting for Il Muto had finally begun, everyone was certain that the main role of Countess would fall right in your hands. Expectations were high, and it was your responsibility to uphold the name of Fortuna’s Opera House during their new golden era.
Your spirit shone bright with determination to see this through,now if only your body could keep up with it too.
It happened one evening. As soon as you stepped into the green room your figure collapsed before the astonished look of your colleagues, which prompted them to call for medical assistance while a staff member carried you back into the main dressing room. Trish and Nico stayed at your side at all times, worried at the diagnosis that the doctor tending to you would give.
“Her symptoms indicate a severe case of fatigue.” The medic concluded after his examination. “There are several known causes, most are derived from a pre-existing health condition or disorder like anxiety, depression, sleep disorders, and such. My suggestion is an immediate medical leave so she can rest and recover at home for a few weeks. Moreover, I recommend for her to see a specialist at the hospital and get some tests run in order to discard other possible afflictions.”
The man then pulled out a card and a pen from his pocket, scribbling a name and a few numbers on it before handing it to Madame Trish.
“A colleague of mine works at the General Hospital, this right here is her number. I can assure you Dr. Giovanna Moscati is one of the best and most dedicated specialists you can find in Fortuna, I am sure she will be able to find out whatever malady is affecting Miss (Y/N)’s health right now.”
“Thank you doctor, I appreciate your help.”
After the doctor left,Trish had to leave in order to arrange all the documents needed for your paid sick leave as well as call for a cab to take you back home. Nico remained by your side until she noticed you were stirring awake after a few minutes.
“Welcome back honey. How’re you feeling?”
You blinked a couple times to let your eyes adjust to the lighting in the room. “A little dizzy. What happened? I remember stepping off the stage and then nothing.”
You were about to sit up from the lounge chair you were laying on when Nico reached out to stop your movements.
“Whoa there! I think it’s best if you lie down for a while so you don’t get nauseous or anything. You passed out in the green room, gave us quite the scare back there. Don’t worry tho, Trish has already called for a cab and you’ll be heading right back home on a nice paid leave.”
“Paid leave? For how long?”
Nico shrugged off. “Eh a couple weeks, maybe more depending on how you feel.”
Your eyes widened at her words. “What?! But what about the castings and rehearsals for the next production?” You had been preparing for the new play for some time now, as terrible as your health had been recently you still had a job and a responsibility with the Opera House. This was a dream come true for you after all, and no matter if you were the lead soprano or a supporting background dancer, you were grateful for this chance and you will always give your hundred percent.
Nico, however, was only getting more worried the more she saw you pushing yourself past your limits.
“Calm your horses, sugarcube. Look, I understand this is important for you, but your top priority right now is your health and your well-being. And the sooner you feel better, the sooner you’ll be giving those top performances of yours again.”
You gave a low sigh, it was going to be hard but there was nothing else you could do at the moment other than going home and recover.
Nico flashed you an empathic smile, in moments like this you really couldn’t be more grateful for everything that your job at the Opera House had brought along.
“I know! Let me get you some warm tea, that should get your spirits right up. I’ll be right back so don’t you dare leave that chaise.”
“Thanks Nico, you’re the best.” You smiled back at her as she stepped out of the room.
Processing her words, she was right. If whatever you had worsened, then your performing skills would too. Everything you had learned from the Phantom would then have been all for naught.
...Wait a minute. The Phantom!
You hadn't thought about him, how would he react to your absence? Would he know you had fallen sick? If he were to enter the dressing room only to not find you for two weeks, what would happen then?
Just as the questions appeared in your mind, you heard the mirror creak open behind you.
………………….
“Oi Buquet! Would you mind doing me a favor?”
Joseph Buquet was already back from his short vacations, now more relaxed and less stressed than ever before. Still, after witnessing you pass out in the green room had been a shock, his eyes were now tinted with serious concern over you.
“What do you need Miss Nico? Is Miss (Y/N) alright?”
“She is awake and resting. I’ll be getting some tea for her, would you mind keeping an eye out for her while I’m out? And if her taxi arrives, please accompany her out so she can get home safely.”
“Right away Miss.”
And so Mister Buquet set out to your dressing room, ready to assist you in case you needed it, a simple task, he had figured.
But when was life ever simple for poor unfortunate Mr. Buquet since working at the Opera House?
He was about to knock on the door to signal his presence to you when a muffled voice came from inside the room. A voice so sombre, so deep, it sent chills down his old spine.
Noting that the door was slightly opened, he dared to peek inside.
………………….
You felt like floating around in a void, the world around you a blur of murky colors and sounds. The only thing you could distinguish among the storm your senses were experiencing, was none other than his voice.
“Mia angela… mia salvezza…”
Your angel of music. He was here.
You felt his embrace, warm and inviting, keeping you safe and soothing your soul. You wanted nothing more than to curl up against his presence, content with having him. Memories of his teachings came back to mind, his guidance, blessing and protection. And then the day he took you to his sanctuary, bestowing upon you what he considered to be the highest honor in his eyes. How you got lost in those sweet memories of him…
His voice singing next to yours, the focused light in his eyes as he composed his next masterpiece. The sense of familiarity that washed over you as you watched him during his craft.
… Familiarity.
A fallen book in his sanctuary then came to your mind, leatherbound and ornate, revealing exquisite illustrations and sweet poetry.
‘It’s a book of poetry… My… my mother gifted it to me…’
‘See? I knew you could do it!
A little boy with an adorable smile and precious green eyes.
A broken man, with black tendrils marking and scarring his pale visage.
“V...”
Was he the cause of all this?
And so you fought. You fought against the void and tried your best to ground yourself back to reality. But the presence around you grew heavier, thicker, not willing to let you go any time soon. Your body ached, exhaustion taking over you, but you refused to give up. After so many years you had found your old friend, but something terrible must have happened to him that left him in his current state.
You needed answers, and you were going to get them.
Little by little, you started making out his silhouette amongst the tempest drowning you, and as soon as you could see his eyes as clear as water you reached out for him. And with every ounce of energy you could muster, you made your voice work again.
“V… I found you, my dear friend…”
………………….
The Phantom was left speechless the moment your voice grazed his ears. His suggestion powers should have already put you in a deep trance, but this time you had actively struggled against him, so much in fact that you managed to break free from his control. However, he noticed that your struggle had also weakened you to the point you couldn’t stop shivering in his arms.
“What has happened to you?”
A trembling hand reached out and cupped his uncovered cheek, the soft warmth in it bringing tears to his eyes. Before he realized, he was already leaning against your palm, a caress he was convinced he would never feel again in the limited time he had in this material plane.
“Please don’t do this… please don’t take me away...”
He didn’t want to. If the circumstances were different, he would set you free so you could live your life to the fullest, grace the world with your divine voice without chains to hold you back.
But the circumstances were grim, and he was a desperate man.
“I can’t.”
“Please V, let me go…” you pleaded once again.
Tears rolled down his cheek and onto your palm.
“I can’t.”
The temperature dropped all of a sudden, the gasp that escaped your lips became visible with condensation. A gust of wind made his hair flutter for a brief moment, the jet black that tinted his locks vanishing into a pristine white. With a careful grip, he held both your hands together, tendrils of black ink circling and binding your wrists.
He gave you one last apologetic look, his lashes fluttering as they combated more tears from spilling.
“Will you ever forgive me?”
And the world around you plunged once again into a total darkness.
………………….
“I saw him! These eyes may be old, but they tell nothing less than the truth itself!”
Backstage, the ballet girls were gathered around Mister Buquet as he rambled on. With a length of fabric serving as cloak and a piece of rope as a lasso, he kept showing off to the girls the events he saw the previous night.
“Like white parchment is his skin, a pair of great black holes served the eyes that could haunt even the bravest of warriors. A demon made man, he appeared from inside the mirror in the dressing room!”
The dancers gasped in awe, bombarding Buquet with all kinds of questions regarding what he witnessed.
Everyone that has worked in the Opera House in recent years knew about the rumored existence of the Phantom. Some speculate the spirit belongs to a disgraced tenor who swore revenge on the theatre company after his death, others theorize that it is the lost soul of a former patron who had fallen in love with a songstress but passed away before he could attend her last performance at the theatre, thus condemning his soul into a futile wait for her to perform.
It was no surprise that most of the staff rushed to leave the theatre as soon as they were allowed, not even the night security guards dared to enter the building once it closed to do rounds. Yet despite the numerous paranormal activity that many claim to have witnessed, nobody had been able to properly see the ghost itself, only mere shadows, faint murmurs and the few instances where people felt that they were being watched.
But now the elusive spectre has finally been seen, and by none other than Joseph Buquet.
“You must always be on your guard, or he will catch you when you least expect it!” He kept explaining to the ballet girls. Just as he finished his sentence, as if calling forth misfortune with his words, a wooden prop fell over with a loud thump next to the group. The sudden noise startled the dancers who ran away screaming while Buquet remained paralyzed where he stood.
Everything flashed before his eyes. The tall man cloaked in shadows and living ropes of black ichor, his skin as pale as death itself and his eyes hollow and lifeless. A weakened (Y/N) laid unconscious in his arms, the ink-like substance binding her wrists and ankles. The horrific sight in front of him triggered his flight or fight instincts, ultimately choosing the former as expected from his cowardly nature.
Mister Buquet ran straight back home, leaving (Y/N) behind and at the apparition’s mercy. He couldn’t sleep that night, burdened by the sin he had just committed. He had abandoned Miss (Y/N) with that monster. That… thing that was most likely the cause of her malady, her recent deplorable health. Buquet felt like he was going insane with the guilt, so he started warning his colleagues, warning them of the danger that lurked in the theatre.
Unbeknownst to him, a pair of ruby eyes was watching the trembling man from their place beneath the shadows, a strange gleam in them foreboding a terrible message.
Those who speak of what they know find, too late, that prudent silence is wise. Joseph Buquet, poor unfortunate Joseph Buquet, you had better hold your tongue or he will burn you with the heat of his eyes…
………………….
“Damnable! First Carlotta walks out and now (Y/N) falls sick! This is damnable. We have no cast!” Monsieur Andre lamented inside the office while Monsieur Firmin did his best to come up with a solution to their predicament.
“Calm down Andre, I have already negotiated with Signora Carlotta regarding the main role. I am certain she will be glad to interpret the Countess and be our Prima Donna once again.” No matter how much Firmin tried to keep his composure at the moment, he couldn’t help but feel worried about the unfortunate timing of their situation.
As his eyes roamed the desk as if searching for the answer, he caught something unusual beneath the pile of envelopes that arrived in the mail. A direct contrast to the usual white stationary, the corner of a single black envelope stood out, almost as if inviting the managers to pick it up in an urgent manner.
Firmin carefully slid the letter from its place and studied it with a furrowed brow. There was no info written at the front, no name or address; only a lavender wax seal on the back with an ornate ‘V’ keeping it shut.
“Hey Andre! Do you have any idea where this came from?”
Monsieur Andre stopped his ranting the moment his attention turned to Monsieur Firmin, his eyes catching the strange black letter being held out for him.
“Huh, this is curious.”
Taking the envelope, Andre reached for his letter opener and sliced the side of the envelope. Pulling out the sheet of paper inside, he unfolded it and proceeded to read the message aloud.
“Dears Messieurs Andre and Firmin,
My most sincere congratulations for the success you have achieved with Hannibal. It was truly a splendid production.
We were hardly bereft when Carlotta left - otherwise the chorus was entrancing. But perhaps Signora Guidicelli’s unfortunate departure was but a blessing in disguise, (Y/N) (L/N) has been a magnificent lead soprano, a most excellent successor for Lady Kyrie Eleison.
As for the current health of Miss (Y/N), you do not need to worry for her. The Angel of Music has her under his wing. She shall continue with her normal work schedule as usual.
I shall watch the performances for ‘Il Muto’ from my usual seat in Box Four, which will be kept empty for me at all moments as accorded.
- V ”
“V? Could that be an alias for one of our distinguished patrons?” Firmin questioned, his mind conjuring up the names of the theatre’s most frequent VIP’s he knew about. Unfortunately for him, not a single name starting with the letter V came to mind.
“Well, Box Four is mentioned in this note, perhaps we can check in our records?”
In that exact moment the door slammed open, startling both administrators. A distressed Vicomte Raoul accompanied by Madame Trish rushed inside.
“Where is she? Where is (Y/N)?”
Both managers looked at the young benefactor with confused expressions. “She is at home my lord, recovering as suggested by our doctor.”
“She is not there.” Trish declared with a sombre voice. “After Vicomte Raoul had been informed of (Y/N)’s incident we both tried calling her number to check on her, but received no answer. I myself dropped by her place in case she needed to go to the hospital, but the neighbors told me they had not seen her since that night.”
“What?!” With the office door left ajar, a nearby Nico managed to overhear the conversation taking place, prompting her to barge in unannounced and yell with concern and anxiousness laced in her tone. “Wait just a darn minute. You mean nobody has any clue of where (Y/N) is? I thought she had gone home!”
“I called the cab company that night and confirmed she was driven safely to her destination.” Trish continued, her eyes cast down at the floor as guilt invaded her. “But when I called today and informed them we couldn’t locate her, the driver told me a young woman he presumed to be (Y/N) climbed into his unit that night, but the description he provided didn’t match her. Police have already been informed, they are conducting an investigation right now.”
“So she is…” Nico didn’t dare to finish her sentence. Tension filled the small room, the drop of a needle could be enough to shatter it in pieces.
“Well… we may actually have a clue of where she could be.” It was Andre who broke the silence first. With a loud gulp, he handed the mysterious letter to Raoul so he could read it himself.
With Trish and Nico looking over Raoul’s shoulders, three pairs of eyes skimmed through the words in a rapid attempt to find some much needed answers, only to encounter more questions than the ones they began with.
“Who is this ‘Angel of Music’? Who wrote this note?” Raoul turned to the managers for some clarification, but he only got puzzled looks from them.
“Well, how should we know? The only clue we have is a single letter and Box number Four. We truly are in the dark.” Firmin shrugged as he wiped his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief.
Madame Trish’s eyes widened in shock and realization. After a closer inspection of the envelope, she discovered it being the same color and with the exact same wax seal as the ones she had to handle for Lefevre. Then there was the mention of the infamous Box Four, the fact that it was the same box that’s been unoccupied for years and the one where she has to deliver money every month couldn’t be a mere coincidence.
Her train of thoughts was interrupted all of a sudden due to some boisterous yelling coming from the hallway and getting closer. Storming into the office was none other than Signora Carlotta Guidicelli herself, waving a sheet of paper right in front of Vicomte Raoul’s face.
“I have your letter - a letter which I rather resent!” She complained in that particular loud volume of hers she used when upset or offended.
“And did you send it?” Firmin turned to Raoul, already scared of the imposing woman going feral.
“Of course not!”
“You dare to tell me this is not the letter you sent?!” Carlotta practically shoved the piece of paper into Raoul’s face. As the argument continued, however, Trish zoomed in on a detail that mortified her even more.
Carlotta’s letter also had a black envelope.
Annoyed by the situation, the young Vicomte retrieved the letter from Carlotta’s grasp and read it aloud.
“Carlotta Guidicelli,
Your days at the Opera House are numbered. Lady (Y/N) (L/N) will be singing on your behalf from now on. If you wish to continue working for this company or resign, it is entirely your choice. However, mark these next words. Be prepared for a great misfortune, should you ever attempt to take (Y/N)’s rightful place. I shall not allow a soul as impure and malicious as yours to taint this sacred Opera House.
To the administrators, which I am certain must be reading these words at the moment, be not afraid. Lady (Y/N) (L/N) shall be returned safe and sound as soon as rehearsals commence. In the new production of ‘Il Muto’, you will therefore cast Carlotta as the Pageboy, and put Lady (Y/N) in the role of Countess. The role which Lady (Y/N) plays calls for charm and appeal. The role of the Pageboy is silent - which makes my casting, in a word, ideal.
I am anxious to see this production’s final results. Should my commands be ignored, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur.
I remain, ladies and gentlemen, your obedient servant,
- V ”
The same unknown author as the first letter. Now this was becoming a headache for Madame Trish, worsening with each passing second due to Carlotta’s constant accusations.
“O traditori! This is all a ploy to help that girl!” Carlotta pointed a manicured pointed nail at Raoul, accusing him of favoritism to thwart her career. “I know it was you who sent this. The Vicomte - her lover!”
“This is a joke-!”
“O mentitori-!”
“The sender is mad-!”
“We don’t take orders from-!”
“ENOUGH!”
A booming tenor commanded silence between the arguing parties. It was Bishop Sanctus who had arrived with a local detective and two police officers. Everyone lowered their heads in both respect and shame for their heated argument.
“Detective Montalbano here is the one in charge of the investigation while the search party for our missing soprano continues.” The Bishop started in a much more composed tone. “Now, if you would be so kind, please don’t hesitate to provide any information that you believe could help the police department with the current task. Our top priority right now is to make sure Miss (Y/N) is found safe and sound.”
Messieurs Andre and Firmin calmed down and explained everything to Detective Montalbano and Bishop Sanctus regarding the anonymous letters sent both to the main office and to Carlotta.
“Let’s recap what we have until now.” Montalbano started once everything was done explaining, checking all the important notes he had recorded in his journal. “This anonymous sender has stated that Miss (Y/N) is under the care of ‘an Angel of Music’ according to their letters. This means that whoever this person is, either knows something about her current whereabouts or is in fact the so-called ‘Angel of Music’ themselves. This sender also stated to be the current owner of Box number Four, which means their name should be in the theatre’s registry; however, I speculate the suspect has probably used an alias the time they made the check-in, so the records could be compromised. In any case, we are going to confiscate the letters as evidence and test for fingerprints or a possible DNA trace, seeing as everyone present is wearing gloves at the moment I believe this could be our biggest lead.”
While the officers secured the letters and envelopes in plastic bags, the detective turned to Carlotta.
“Signora Guidicelli, I am afraid the letter you received could be interpreted as a death threat against you. Our department shall deploy some units to protect and escort you as a safety measure, we are not sure who or what we are dealing with but we aren’t going to take any risks.”
“Understood detective. Thank you so much.”
Detective Montalbano and his officers then excused themselves to interview the rest of the staff, but not before giving the detective’s number in case something happened or someone recalling more important information.
Noticing that the sudden news made Nico feel anxious, Trish allowed her to take the rest of the day and to inform the rest of the staff that they were free to go home after the police had taken their statements. Both benefactors also retired for the day, leaving Andre, Firmin and Trish to discuss their next course of action.
“This complete stranger promised that (Y/N) will be returned, but how can we trust their word?” Firmin collapsed onto the chair at the front of the desk, agitated after all that transpired during the day. “We cannot risk our next play, our only viable option right now is having Carlotta as our lead soprano again.”
“We cannot allow this anonymous lunatic to believe they can give us orders.” Added an angry Andre. “Their words must be mere bluffs! If we succumb to their demands then they will just keep exploiting us and the Opera House will never truly thrive. What is your opinion, Madame Trish?”
Trish was no better than everyone else. She knew about the letters and the money that Monsieur Lefevre entrusted on her, but she had promised the man absolute discretion. And yet, her friend’s life could very well be at risk, all because she refused to inform the detective about Lefevre’s request.
Conflict clouded Trish’s mind, her instincts blaring all red alerts. She could not shake off the feeling that they were dealing with something far greater than they could comprehend, so how to act next?
Her next words left her mouth without she could properly process everything, the administrators expecting her decision as soon as possible.
“(Y/N) will be playing the Pageboy - the silent role… one we could prepare an understudy for just in case. I trust and pray she will be found, but I cannot force the responsibility of the lead role onto her knowing what she’s been put through. In conclusion, Carlotta will be playing the lead.”
Nobody could have predicted what such decision would end up causing in the end.
