Azurite stood in front of the large mirror in her new dressing room. She stood there for what seemed like forever and stared in awe. It was transparent; as in passageway transparent. And what looked like candles were visible on the other side.
It had been one month since Christine and Raoul's disappearance. The rumor was that they had left France in fear of being pursued by the madman. The man who brought down the chandelier and murdered Joseph Buquet and Ubaldo Piangi.
She wondered if she should pity the man; if he had let Christine go, there was obviously sympathy in him. Her temptation to go into the strange mirror was taking over. It was the middle of the night, what were the chances of anyone stopping her?
After minutes of pondering, she made up her mind and pried open the mirror.
She went out of the room and looked around to make sure nobody was awake. Then she walked into the passage.
It took her eight minutes to reach a large body of water. She didn't want to stop. It couldn't be a dead end. Something was on the other side. She lifted up her nightgown to her knees and gently stepped into the water. It wasn't very deep.
As she got closer to the end of the lake, she saw an irregular shaped house. It might as well have been empty, but someone was sitting and skulking on the edge of the water
The man slowly lifted his head up. There, at the edge of the lake, stood a golden-haired young woman. He tightly held on to his punjab lasso.
Her eyes widened. Was this man the murderer everyone spoke of?
"Who the hell are you? How on earth did you get here?"
"That is none of your business. And I used the mirror door."
"Why would you take all the trouble to swim through the lake?"
...
"Are you the madman who killed Joseph Buquet and Piangi?"
"Madman? Is that all you fools ever call me?"
"...Bye."
She tried to run away.
"You will catch your death if you walk through the lake."
"I'll be fine. I found my way here alright."
"I will take you back, I insist."
He walked toward her.
"Get the hell away from me!"
Azurite now looked like she was the one about to murder him. Her fists were ready to kill if necessary.
"Believe me, if I wanted to kill you, I would have done it the moment you walked in. Your blood would be spilled into the lake."
"That's horrifying."
"You don't look afraid yet, mademoiselle."
"I'm not afraid of you."
"You are a stubborn little child."
"I am twenty-three years old."
"Of course. My apologies."
"Why are you so slaphappy all of a sudden?"
"I may or may not be thinking about how to kill you."
"You're on your own, Phantom."
She ran away so fast that she nearly fell face first into the lake.