***Content warning for this chapter—mentions of physical abuse/torture.
Chapter 6: Masquerade
Walking into the Opera House, it's like someone has set off a fireworks display.
The gilded moldings have been polished to gleaming. Lords and ladies swirl around the massive dance floor, their costumes glittering like jewels. The newly-repaired chandelier blazes overhead. From every corner echo the sounds of laughter, swooshing fabric, and gentle clinkingof glasses.
Apollo takes a deep breath, making sure his mask is secure.
"Mein Leibling, are you alright?" Klavier takes his hand.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"Are you sure? I can call the carriage for us right now."
"No, I—I want to do this." His fingers move automatically to fiddle with his engagement ring, before he remembers he's concealed it around his neck. It's become a habit in the six months since he moved out of the Opera House. "If I don't, it's like—it's like he wins, you know?"
"I don't give a damn about him. I'm worried about you."
"I'll be fine. Besides, I've got a Hussar soldier protecting me, after all."
Klavier sighs melodramatically, shaking his head.
"Alas, without my trusty steed, I fear I am useless."
"We've been over this!" he protests. "No way was I gonna wear a horse costume!"
"But you would have looked so dashing in that mask. I cut the eyeholes myself."
"Forget it. I'd rather throw myself off the roof than be seen in that thing!"
"Ach, Mein Leibling, you wound me!" Klavier pretends to be stabbed in the stomach.
"Yeah, well, maybe you should've studied your swordplay a little harder, Monsieur Soldier," he retorts. Klavier puts an arm around him, kissing his cheek.
"If I must die, at least I am slain by the man that I love."
"Klavier, please—not here," says Apollo, twisting away from his embrace. He glances around at the other guests.
"And why not? It's not a crime to be engaged, ja?"
"It's too risky. We don't know who could be here."
"Mein Leibling, don't worry. I spoke with Herren Payne myself. They haven't seen hide or hair of the Phantom since you left. Either he's gone, or he's realized that he overplayed his hand when he tried to drop that chandelier on you. It would be far too dangerous for him to show his face now."
"I guess you're right."
"Of course. When am I ever wrong?"
Apollo rolls his eyes.
"C'mon. Let's not spend the whole evening bickering," he says. "I'd just feel safer if we were more…subtle, you know?"
"Your wish is my command." Klavier plucks two glasses of wine from the tray of a nearby server, passing one to Apollo. Lowering his voice, he raises it slightly, giving Apollo a soft smile. "To my future husband."
Apollo smiles back. The wine is delicious, almost as good as the bottles from the Gavins' extensive wine cellar. The Paynes have clearly pulled out all the stops for this evening.
As he and Klavier stroll through the crowd, Apollo spots some familiar faces. The Paynes are there, in costumes that cost more than Apollo would have made from a lifetime of dancing. Lang and Franziska, dressed as a witch and warlock, are discussing business at a table. Trucy finds Apollo and Klavier almost immediately, shining like a star in a ringmaster's costume. She points across the room, where Phoenix, dressed as a court fool, is engrossed in conversation with a pirate whom Trucy claims is Edgeworth.
"They've danced together twice," says Trucy, giggling.
"Indeed? Perhaps we should follow their lead," says Klavier, turning to Apollo. He wavers.
"Uh…I dunno."
"C'mon, Polly! As long as you're here, you should at least try to have fun," says Trucy.
"Personally, I'm not sure that particular word is in Herr Forehead's vocabulary," says Klavier.
"H-Hey, I can have fun! I could out-dance anyone here!"
"That's an awfully bit claim to make, Mein Leibling. Can you back up these wild claims of yours?"
"Oh, I'll prove it!" Emboldened by the wine, he seizes Klavier's hand, dragging him to the dance floor. As the orchestra strikes up a tune, Klavier pulls Apollo close. Together, they whirl around the floor in a waltz. The rest of the world seems to fade away, leaving only the two of them behind. Apollo feels his fears start to fade in the glow of both the spirits and the spectacle.
He hardly notices when the music slows. Klavier looks down at him, cheeks flushed from drink and dancing. Apollo smiles back. What was he afraid of? No matter what, he's safe with his love. He starts to lean in for a kiss. Klavier follows, bending down to meet him.
CRASH! The doors at the top of the grand staircase fly open. Darkness sweeps through the room as a gust of wind blows out the candles. People cry out, turning to look at the figure in the doorway. Fear clenches around Apollo's heart like a vise.
The figure is dressed as the Red Death, complete with a long cloak and a broad-brimmed hat. His long blond hair falls over one shoulder, his whole face concealed beneath a skull-like mask. There's a large leather-bound book under his arm.
"Good evening, my lords and ladies. I trust I am not too late?..."
The voice is smooth, elegant, horribly familiar. Apollo's legs feel frozen.
No. God, no; please!...
The Phantom steps forward.
"Why so silent, good Messieurs?" He spreads his hands, gesturing. "Surely you didn't think that I had left you for good?..."
He begins descending the stairs, one at a time. Apollo expects Klavier to move, to draw his sword, do anything—but when he glances at Klavier, he's staring at the Phantom with an expression akin to horror. Apollo can't place it.
"I'm sure I've been greatly missed. Unfortunately, composing requires my full concentration. I am happy to say, however, that my latest masterpiece is finally complete." He raises the book high in the air. "I give you your next opera, to be performed within the month: Don Juan Triumphant!"
He throws the book at the owners' feet, locking their gaze.
"I would advise you to comply fully this time. After all…I'm sure you would agree there are worse things than a shattered chandelier."
The Paynes visibly gulp, edging away. The Phantom turns back to the crowd. His eyes find Apollo, and his brow furrows.
Ice cascades into Apollo's stomach. The Phantom moves towards him, descending the remaining stairs. Klavier makes to step in front of Apollo, but he grabs Klavier's shoulder.
"Wait."
"Mein Liebling, what—?"
"Trust me!" He pushes past Klavier, walking towards the Phantom. He doesn't know where this sudden surge of courage came from. By all accounts, he should be curled in a ball, cowering on the floor. But in this moment, all he knows is a strange, wild determination. Words play in his mind, ones he's wanted to say a thousand times before.
I'm through with our lessons, he rehearses. Leave me alone! Don't ever come near us again!
They're barely an arm's length apart. The Angel's gaze bores into him, burning out of the dark holes in his mask. Apollo opens his mouth. Then, the Angel's gaze drops to Apollo's chest.
Too late, he looks down and sees the ring, sitting visibly over his heart.
The Phantom leaps forward, seizing it. With a violent tug, the chain breaks. He holds it up.
"Your chains are still mine!" he cries. He points at Apollo. "You shall sing for ME!..."
Before Apollo can react, there's a burst of flame. The next thing he knows, he's kneeling on the floor, spots bursting in his eyes. The Phantom is gone.
"Mein Liebling!—" Klavier is at his side. He helps Apollo up. Guests scream and run for the exits. In the midst of the chaos, a familiar figure darts past them.
"Herr Wright!" Klavier takes off after him. "Herr Wright!—"
"Klavier!" Apollo chase him into the backstage area, until they finally catch up.
"Herr Wright!" Klavier seizes Phoenix's arm, spinning him around.
"Can I help you, Messieurs?" says Phoenix, his tone much too casual.
"Ja." Klavier's voice lowers to a growl. "You can help by stopping this ridiculous game you're playing and tell us the truth!"
"The truth? I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Yes, you do!" says Apollo. "You know about the Ang—the Phantom! You have to tell us everything!"
"Me? I'm just the ballet teacher. I don't know any more about him than you do."
"Objection!"Apollo's voice echoes off the walls. "You knew about my lessons with the Angel even before my debut! You're the one who delivers all his notes to the owners! Even if you haven't met him, you must know something!"
"He's met him," says Klavier, his hand still fastened on Monsieur Wright's arm. "That's what you told Monsieur Lang, was it not?"
"As much as I wish I could help you, Messieurs, there's nothing I can do. I'm sorry."
"Yes, there is!" argues Apollo. He knows he sounds childish, but he doesn't care. "You could solve this whole mess right now, but you just don't care!"
"On the contrary, I care about both of you. Which is why I'm not telling you anything."
"And how does that help us!?" says Klavier. "How can we possibly hope to defeat the Phantom if we don't know who we're up against?—"
"You can't defeat him. That's the point. The minute I tell you anything, you'll try and set a trap for him. It won't work."
"How do you know that for certain?" argues Klavier.
"This theatre is his kingdom." Phoenix gestures to the ceiling. "He knows it better than anyone. How do you think I've survived this long? I know better than to pick fights with ghosts."
"So…what!? You're just going to ignore?! Let him keep killing people?!" says Apollo incredulously.
"Do I have a choice? I have a daughter! I'm not about to put Trucy in danger by trying to fight a battle I can't yet win!"
"And what about me!?" Apollo nearly screams. "I thought—I thought you cared about me! If you knew he was dangerous, why didn't you…?"
"I didn't know." Phoenix grimaces. "I didn't know until it was too late. By the time I realized he was teaching you, stopping the lessons would've put you in more danger than letting them continue…I'm sorry."
"Hold on!" says Klavier suddenly. He holds up his hand. "Herr Wright…you said 'yet.' A battle you couldn't yet win. What does that mean?"
Apollo looks at Phoenix, his eyes widening.
"Monsieur Wright…are you saying…you have a plan!? A plan to beat the Phantom?!"
"Believe what you want." Phoenix looks off to the side. "But if you know what's good for you, you'll both get out of here, now."
"I can't just leave you all here," says Apollo. "Maybe you're okay with letting him continue to run this theatre, but I'm not!"
"Herr Forehead is right." Klavier releases Phoenix, trying to get his voice under control. "Whoever this Phantom is, he's already proven he doesn't mind taking innocent lives. Please, Herr Wright. For all our sakes. Please, tell us what you can."
There's a long pause, before Phoenix finally nods.
"Alright." He glances around. "Follow me."
He leads them outside to the stables, where they stand among the horses and piles of hay.
"It was years ago," he begins quietly. "I had only just started here as Ballet Master. I was young, inexperienced, and pretty stupid at times…but anyway. There was a travelling carnival in Paris. They had everything: tumblers, conjurers…human oddities."
"What do you mean?" says Apollo.
"It was barbaric." Phoenix grimaces. "People, real people, locked in cages. Most of them were deformed, either by accidents or from birth." He glances down. "He was one of them."
"The Phantom?"
"Yes. I'll never forget it." Phoenix squeezes his eyes shut. "He sat there, legs chained. People were pointing at him, laughing, spitting on him, but he didn't seem to notice. He just sat on a stool, playing his violin."
"A violin?" says Klavier, his eyes widening. "You're…you're certain?!"
"I can still see it clearly. He was a composer, a magician, an engineer…a genius."
"How did he get there?!" Klavier's fists are curled so tightly they're nearly white. "How did he end up in the carnival?!"
"I don't know."
"Where is this carnival now?! Surely there must be someone there who can tell us where he came from!"
"Klavier! Are you okay?" Apollo grabs Klavier's arm. At the sound of his voice, Klavier looks over at him, quickly nodding.
"J-ja." He takes a breath, voice trembling. "Forgive me."
"It's alright." Phoenix smoothes his shirt. "The carnival left Paris after a week. I have no idea where they are now. All I know is that before they left, I went back there, late at night…and I released him."
Apollo's jaw drops.
"WHAT!?"
"You would've done the same thing, if you'd seen him." Phoenix looks grim. "They were beating him. No one deserves that kind of treatment!" He swallows. "I brought him to the Opera House, thinking I'd only hide him here for a little while."
"You brought him here!?" says Klavier incredulously.
"I didn't know anywhere else to bring him, in the moment." Phoenix sweeps a hand over his hair. "I only meant to hide him for a day or two. Just until I could find somewhere else for him to go, somewhere safe. But within a day or two…he disappeared. I thought he had run away. And then we got the first letter. Monsieur Judge naturally assumed it was a prank...and then the 'accidents' started happening. I couldn't think of anything else to do, except play along."
"So that's why he leaves you alone? Because you saved him?" says Apollo.
"Oh no; he'd happily kill me if he wanted to. I'm useful to him. That's why he leaves me alone, despite knowing what I do. I can talk to people in the open, whereas that's rather difficult for him. He's been manipulating us ever since I can remember, but…" Phoenix looks down. "Until now, he'd never killed anyone."
"There must be a reason," says Klavier, his voice strangely soft. "Surely he wasn't always a madman!"
Phoenix looks at him curiously.
"You seem to have sympathy for him, Vicompte."
Klavier quickly shakes his head.
"Nein. I harbor no sympathy for the fiend who is torturing my beloved. I…simply wonder what made him who he is."
"I see," says Phoenix. Apollo's brow furrows. Something about all this feels off, but he can't think what.
For a few minutes, they stand in silence. Finally, Phoenix breaks it.
"So, now you know." He moves some hay with his foot. "Whatever you do…just be careful, okay? Remember, he's a genius. If you think you're two steps ahead, he's bound to be three. In order to surprise him, you have to surprise even yourself."