English foreword:
Hi everyone! Here is my first attempt to translate one of my Phantom of the Opera fanfictions from French into English, following a request from Vivstar, who will hopefully be pleased to read another story about Mystery Legends. I already apologise for all the mistakes that could be found in this translation, and wish all my anglophone readers to enjoy the story !
Remark : I undertook the writing of Un Monde de magie et de vérité (french version of this story) two years ago, and I'm still writing it (despite the lack of updates last year). The first chapter was a sarcastic one, but I gave up this tone really quickly and adopted a much more serious one since the second chapter. So, I would recommend to try both of them before giving up/following the story, because a lot of things changed during the process of writing.
Translation of french original foreword:
This story is based on Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical and on the videogame Mystery Legends : Phantom of the Opera, from BigFish Games (which I highly recommend). To ensure the comprehension of this story, I think it would be useful to sum up this game…
Paris, circa 1900. Three people walk down an alley, coming back from the theater : count Raoul de Chagny, his wife Christine and their daughter, Evelina. While they are talking about the comedy they saw, a young boy deliver them a message : a sir asked him to deliver an invitation to the young damsel. When she opens the letter, she is all of a sudden transported into the ruins of an opera, and hears a man's voice announcing she'll stay there forever with him, if she manages to bring him five black roses hidden in the debris. She succeeds, and he brings her by force into his secret, underground domain. But there is an issue : overcome by his obsession, the Phantom of the Opera confused Evelina with her mother, Christine…
« Let me go ! Let me go ! »
There was nothing she could do. The man kept running down the stairs, across the halls and through the walls. The issue : he was holding her wrist firmly, and didn't seem prone to let her go at all. Yet, he ran fast. Yet, she struggled with her dress. Yet, he was hurting her, while holding her hand. Yet, the runaway didn't seem to come to an end. Yet, she was tired of this adventure. Yet, above everything : it was a mistake. She had never met any angel of music, never had any singing lessons with a half-lunatic (euphemism) professor teaching her through mirrors in a dressing room… by the way, she never lived in an opera. It was the first time she came into this place, and, in case she could flee one day, she definitely won't come back again. Honestly ! Kidnapping young ladies like this, what a weird idea !
And now, he was helping her enter a barque. And he started acting like a gondolier. Evelina was shivering, without knowing if her shivers were from fear or laugh. Come on ! Did he think he were in Venice, with his raft on his ground water ? Would he sing in italian, too ? Well, no. He was telling her (just as a venetian Casanova could do) she'll be his, forever. In another scenery, with another man, in any other occasion, she would have been seduced. But seven floors underground, with a masked lunatic who enjoyed freaking her out during the last ten hours, when he sent her looking for his damned flowers (ô Baudelaire !) in every corner of his damned opera house, after snatching her… no, thanks.
« This can't be real… » simply sighed Evelina, answering his declaration. The truth was, she was completely overrun by the situation. Momentarily resigned not to understand a single thing, she decided to take advantage of this short moment to catch her breath. Around her, candles were showing up in the mist, which she contemplated with a risen eyebrow : what a curious ostentation, to receive a « guest » in a half-collapsed opera house, then dazzle her underground with dozens of candles. A better way to welcome anyone there would have been to replace some of the broken windows… Or move house. Simply.
The angel-gondolier with a mask and a black cape moored his boat and jumped out of it. He galantly offered her a hand… the same hand, which was holding her wrist so tight a moment ago. Evelina dedaigned it. Coming from anyone else, she would have accepted the offer, but coming from him, after everything she endured… no, thanks. Besides, she was perfectly able to jump out of a miserable boat, after all her misadventures (including climbing with a rope) ! So did she, with all the upset dignity an aristocrat could be capable of.
« Do you recognise the Lake House, Christine Daaé ? » asked the deep, dark voice of the masked man. Evelina looked him up and down. « Viscountess Evelina Marie Françoise Elisabeth de Chagny, Sir. As I previously stated, I am not who you think I am. » The Phantom hadn't said a word. Not even apologises. He could be thankful to wear a mask, to hide his reactions ! « May I ask who I am speaking to, Sir ? » Her tone wasn't softer than before. All those hours, dreaming of this confrontation ! All this venom to spit on him ! Ah ! No, she would never suffer of Stockholm Syndrome !
« Your Angel of Music. Aren't you pleased, miss viscountess Evelina Marie Françoise Elisabeth de Chagny ? » In his turn, he adopted a cutting tone, underlining ironically the lady's lengthy name. Under the mask, his jaw was nervously shivering. Viscoutess Evelina de Chagny. Christine's daughter. And her fop of a husband's daughter. Oh, he wasn't a fool : since her arrival, he acknowledged she wasn't Christine. Christine couldn't not change, in twenty years. And the link joining her, once his beloved one, to this girl was obvious. It was a stroke of bad luck. But he decided to take advantage of it : revenge is a dish best served cold… and eaten with a charming lady.
Evelina knew a lot of those angel of music's stories her grandfather liked to tell. She believed in them… let's say, only during her first years. Evelina wasn't like her mother. Evelina wasn't gullible, she was a logical mind. Coldly logical. And for the Angel of Music, she hadn't needed to see him to play the piano skillfully : her professor taught her greatly. Besides, she never wanted to perform professionally, as a musician. In fact, she ignored almost everything from her mother's mysterious former teacher. So, she was puzzled. « My… Angel of Music ? Do you want me, Sir, to show you why it cannot be, with iconography ? Cartesianism ? Theology ? My Angel of Music !... Come on ! You look, at best, as sympathic as the Lame Devil* ! »
The « Lame Devil » didn't react : « Then, you could call me the Phantom of the Opera. » A name that sank into oblivion years ago, just as the opera did. Twenty years ago, the Palais Garnier was destroyed by a gigantic fire. Only ruins remained, only a few rooms still in good condition… This place saw Christine Daaé's triumph. Evelina guessed it correctly : the place she explored was this one. And talking about it's strange, only occupant… she won't leave him alone : « A Phantom, Sir ? » Her tone curiously reminded Erik the way he spoke to Carlotta, twenty years ago… « Fine ! Erik, if you insist », he muttered angrily. The lady looked satisfied – as satisfied as possible, when her posture was so haughty ! She seemed to say : « you should be happy, I do not ask you all your qualities, your filiation, your five first names and your family name ! »
His fist tensed with rage, asking himself if his plot revenge was the best, after all, the Phantom turned over and went in his house. His way of behaving persuaded Evelina to follow him, if she wanted to live and to flee one day : it wasn't the best moment to provoke her gaoler. She would have to wait a little. So, she followed him, and he showed her the house around. A fantastical scenery, based on obsession for a woman : the Lake House didn't change with time. Evelina would get Christine's room, Christine's bed. Move in, Evelina ! Erik will wait for you in the dining room. You must be hungry.
Splendid, thought Evelina while looking around her. An otherworldly scenery, under a collapsed opera house, inhabited by a masked man pretending to be alternatively a ghost and an angel, and by his young captive ! I need a director, now : the scenario is worth gold ! She opened a wardrobe, where she found many dresses and shoes : someone waited for her a long time… Or could it be her mother's clothes ? She took the less sophisticated dress, the shortest high heels, powdered her nose quickly and entered the dining room, where her gaoler was waiting : she was starving, but the dinner wouldn't be merry.
It wasn't merry. Erik was in a dark mood, didn't eat, didn't say a word, and scarcely breathed. Evelina tried her best to eat with haste and refinement, which wasn't easy at all, and was truly impressed by his attitude, more than she would never admit. They barely spoke to each other. She had the audacity to ask him the question that burned her lips, only when the meal came to an end : « Why did you kidnap me ? » In fact, she had a very precise idea about it, but she wanted to hear his answer.
« Did I forgot to tell you ? Because I love you.
- No, she firmly answered, looking the Phantom of the Opera right in the mask. Because you want to avenge yourself from my parents. Because you love my mother. What a beautiful revenge !
- An awesome revenge, indeed. » His answer was a serious one.
There was an icy silence around the table. Evelina ate a last bite, then left the table without further ado : no need to be kind with this… despicable person. And she went to sleep. Nothing worth a good night, before a battle.
Note : The Lame Devil (Le Diable boiteux) is a french romance written by Lesage. This devil is in fact the god of love. He's looking ugly, and he's really skilled when it's time to match two unsympathetic people. So, Evelina is really provoking Erik at this time, not knowing she's right about his look.
... And that's it ! I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. Please feel free to review ! See you soon. ;-)