Alam took the hand of his newest business partner, Franklin, shaking in congratulations. Alam's mansion had become regrettably empty since his wife had passed. Alam now cared for his newborn son; the life born of his dying wife. With her passing came a new life. Alam's despise for his son's accidental demise of his eternal companion left a sour taste in his mouth and a heart stained with hate. Alam once thought of abandoning him, only seeing his son as the innocent symbol of his mourning. Alam then heard his wife in his dreams, asking him to raise the life she left behind as best he could. Ridding the mansion of the emptiness and finding a way to turn a profit somehow for his son became the most important thing in his life. Thus, Alam hired his friend as a business partner. Together, they decided to chase after the duo's childhood dream; a performing arts center. They renovated the mansion into a theater. This theater offered everything from high-end plays to stunning operas. Soon after opening, operas became the favorite, to Alam's and Franklin's surprise. Soon enough, the place became known as The Moonlight Shadow Opera House, due to its picturesque placement atop a seaside cliff. When sitting in the tavern at night, the opera house was silhouetted against the moon. It was a landmark location that symbolized the small town that surrounded it.

Alam's son, Abilsin, was raised at the Opera House, taking fascination in singing, acting and even the aesthetics of the performance. He began taking lessons from the professionals that Alam and Franklin hired. Franklin had a child as well, before his wife left him and their daughter, Aya, without so much as an explanation. Both single fathers, chasing a dream that fascinated their children. No two fathers could be happier. The children grew, and both became headlines in the feature performances held at the Opera House. The fathers became rather well known and popular for their direction and leadership at the establishment. Everyone in the community loved them, they had no enemies. No one hated them. So long as their performances continued to be run, the entire town remained upbeat; even the crime rate dropped. It was a small utopia of a town.

However, their fame became something many came to envy and desire. After a performance one day, Alam and Abilsin settled down in the living rooms they constructed beneath the Opera House. They were supposed to remain unknown except to Franklin, Alam, Abilsin and Aya. One night, Franklin and Aya went to town to get food for the four of them. Alam heard a knock on the reinforced wooden door and opened it, expecting it to be Franklin upon return. It wasn't. Upon opening the door, he met face to face with a masked figure, a silent stab in the stomach, and everything went hazy. The last sight he saw before his vision faded was Abilsin grabbing the invaders wrist in defense as he began to fight the invader. Alam watched helplessly as his son tussled with the masked figure, becoming beaten and bloody before falling to the ground, motionless, blood staining his face and hands. His vision blurred as his underground home was set ablaze and the man rushed out. Alam never woke. The room soon caved in, becoming a perfect burial site for the father and son. Neither of them was ever seen again.

Franklin and Aya mourned for a long time over the loss of their friends. Abilsin was 20, Aya 18. The reason and motive remained unknown. No other deaths appeared in connection. So much of the building caved in that it became structurally unsound to even attempt to recover them. If they attempted to retrieve their bodies, the Opera house above them would collapse in due time. They had no choice but to bid farewell to their friends. They kept the unfortunate events secret, maintaining the composure of the theater. Franklin continued to run the establishment on his own. No other incidents occurred… until 3 months later. Early morning rehearsals for a new production were delayed for several hours as a letter was found dangling from a rope in the rafters upon the main stage. The letter fastened to the rope by a black metal knife. The envelope was black with an old fashioned wax seal of blood red shaped like a skull, jutting out from the page. Inside, the letter read this, in white calligraphy.

Franklin and all performers of the Moonlight Shadow Opera House,

The disappearance of one of your owners is a tragic loss, should any of you even realize the missing members of the staff.

Thus, I am making this decree. I am watching you. Your performances will be to my liking and direction. The Moonlight Shadow Opera House now belongs to me.

Franklin read the letter with a plain face, then shook his head with a chuckle.

"This is probably so—" Franklin was in interrupted with the sounds of movement. In an instant, another rope fell, holding a jade tiger statue with another black letter pinned with a black knife. Franklin took the tiger in his hands and stared at it for a moment in disbelief before taking the letter and opening it too.

…Some threat? I assume you recognize this object, Franklin. I ensure you, this is no mere threat.

Hamlet. I wish to see the play performed as opera.

Franklin's gaze rose slowly from the letter to before him before his face turned to commanding.

"He's here! Above! He dropped this! Everyone, to the rafters. DO NOT LET HIM ESCAPE!" Franklin shouted as the strongest of the actors flew behind stage to the ladders and stairs to reach the upper bounds of the theater. Many of the female performers huddled together and whispered to keep calm. Franklin pulled his daughter beside him, handing her the letters and jade tiger, whispering to her softly.

"That was in Alam's bedroom that day. Yet this man has it. We're dealing with the man who killed Alam and Abilsin. Take those and put them in the office. Then return here at once! Do you understand me?" Franklin spoke, scared and stern. Aya nodded and dashed off towards the office at the back of the theater while Franklin continued to try and calm his performers. The manager of the upcoming performance approached Franklin, looking slightly disturbed and jittery.

"Does this… change anything with the schedule?" After a long moment, Franklin replied.

"… No. Continue to rehearse as normal." Franklin turned to face a mid-twenties who looked regretful.

"We checked every route from the rafters. There's no one there. The doors to the rafters were locked still. It only locks from the outside. I'm the only person who has the keys to those doors, and I have them right here." He held up the keys, jingling them. "There was no one there, Franklin." He remained quiet while Franklin thought silently. "What are we going to do?"

"Just do your jobs and perform. This is a bluff and nothing more." Franklin spoke then stormed off towards where his daughter went, silently wondering where she was.

Aya approached the office, she saw a shadow flash against the back wall. Someone was behind her. She turned around to see a flash of black fabric. She chased after it, turning down a long empty hallway. No one was there. She felt a hand on her shoulder. She jumped and turned around to see her father.

"Did you see him?"

"I… I think so. He ran down here… but when I looked, there was no one here…"

"Okay… as long as you're safe. Come on, let's go home. We will return later tonight for the performance. Whoever he was… he's gone now."

Franklin and Aya returned to a small house they bought on the outskirts of town, down the road from the opera house. They both went inside and went back to bed As Aya tried to calm herself, she closed her eyes and began to hear singing. Mellow, deep humming… Aya opened her eyes to keep hearing it… It wasn't a dream. She sat up and listened, recognizing the tune as an old childhood favorite. The first opera her father and Alam performed, that Abilsin and her were allowed to watch. She began to hum along, her eyes wandering around the room, her heart beating madly. Was he here? Where was he?

"Aya…Where are you?"

Aya's eyes widened, but didn't reply.

"Aya…? Aya…?" The voice repeated with a small echo, slowly getting more distant.

"W…who are you?" Aya finally stammered in a whisper.

"…I'm your angel… Don't you remember?..."

"What…?"

"You were promised…"

"By who…?"

"Aya….Aya…." The beckoning voice began to fade fast and became nothing.

Aya sat on her bed in silence for a long while, in thought. She wasn't freaked out. The voice was calm and soothing. Calling her sweetly… as if lovingly. She felt enchanted and attracted. There was a small, strange feeling behind it that she couldn't describe. She decided not to tell her father, in fear of startling him. She laid back down and heard the voice in her dreams again. Getting no more information of who he was or why. Her father woke her from chasing the voice through a warm black abyss to begin to get ready for tonight's performance, in which she was a minor character. She did have a several minute long solo though. She now prayed that she performed to the man's liking, or feared something devastating to happen otherwise.