Author's notes: Hello, readers! This is where the real meat of the fic begins! I just want to warn you all, though-I don't know if I'll always be able to update this quickly. I'm pretty busy at school, and I generally have a difficult time forcing myself to concentrate on things I really should be doing (plus, I gotta woo V. Priorities, folks!). Still, I'm going to do the best I can! Comments help too, of course. ;)

Some notes:

*I started writing this way before V's route came out, so a lot of details might be inaccurate (apparently, V has a grudge against artists? Whoops.).

*Yes, I'm aware of the irony of Jumin playing Vicomte Raoul "YOU CAN'T WIN HER LOVE BY MAKING HER YOUR PRISONER!" de Chagny. But in my defense, Jumin and V's relationship is so cuuuuute (whether it's platonic or romantic).

*Saeran's in this fic because I love him. IF CHERITZ WON'T LET HIM BE HAPPY IN THE GAME, I'LL MAKE HIM HAPPY IN MY FICS. :(

*A lot of Saeran's characterization here comes from my interpretation of his post Secret Ending self.

*If this story flows weirdly, please let me know!


Think of all the things

we've shared and seen…

Don't think about the

things which might have been…


The opera house was buzzing with energy.

V felt it, like the theater and him were one and the same. His heartbeats synchronized with the chattering and laughter coming from the other employees in the theater, the noise causing his blood to thrum with excitement. Backstage, his paintbrush danced across the canvas with stunning ease, his arm guided by the surge of much-needed vigor coursing through his veins—he hadn't slept terribly well the night before, so he welcomed the boost of energy. Humming tunelessly, he barely paid any heed to his surroundings, focused on his work alone.

Until…

"Ah, V! Just the mortal God Saeyoung wanted to see!"

That voice, combined with the arm slung over his shoulder, snapped V out of his thoughts. Surprised, he flinched slightly and almost dropped the paintbrush he held in his hand, but he couldn't stop the laughter that bubbled from his throat.

"Careful, God Saeyoung," V playfully warned, "Your prophet almost spilled his paint all over the floor."

God Saeyoung—or just Saeyoung, as it were—laughed uproariously. "Apologies, my devoted follower! God Saeyoung will try to stop dazzling you with his divinity, but he can't make any promises!"

V laughed again and shook Saeyoung's arm off his shoulders. Although Saeyoung's behavior seemed odd to an outsider, he knew his friend well enough to know that he was only joking around. "What divine news do you have for your subjects, milord?"

"News, news…" Pressing his pointer finger to his chin, Saeyoung pretended to think for a moment. "Aha! God Saeyoung remembers now! He brings news that—!"

"The new theater manager is here." A voice from behind them said, interrupting Saeyoung's proclamation.

Saeyoung gasped and turned around to face the interloper. "Saeraaaaaan! I was gonna tell him that!" He said with a pout.

"You were taking too long, moron." The interloper snorted, taking a few steps closer to them. "We don't have all day, you know."

V chuckled. These two… "Hello, Saeran. How are you?"

The interloper—also known as Saeran—shrugged. "Same as I always am—living in a constant state of annoyance and praying that my idiot brother's voice doesn't make me go deaf."

V shook his head, once again amazed how it was possible for two men to be so alike, yet so different. Saeran and Saeyoung were twins, and their looks certainty reflected it: they had a similar body structure (though Saeran was much thinner), similar gold-colored eyes, similar pale skin, similar messy hairstyle, and... well, they had a similar hair color, but that changed when Saeran started to dye his hair white. Personality-wise, however…

"So rude! How could you say such cruel things about your brother?!"

"Well, because they're true! And stop looking like you're going to cry! We both know you're faking it!"

...There weren't as many similarities.

"Alright you two, break it up." V said, patting Saeyoung's shoulder soothingly. "Saeran, do you know where the theater manager is?"

Saeran nodded. "Yeah. I heard that she was in the auditorium with some other lady, talking to Monsieur Nolan."

Although Saeran had a neutral expression on his face, V noticed that Saeran was clutching his forearm with one hand—a tell-tale sign that he was anxious. V couldn't blame him, however; earlier that week, when they first received word about the shift in management, an unusually somber Saeyoung had privately confessed that Saeran was terrified about losing his job.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm worried too." He had said. "But Saeran...he's worried that the new manager won't be as understanding about his health problems as Monsieur Nolan is. Besides, even though he's really good at what he does, he only got this job because you and I begged for him to join...he thinks if the new manager ever finds out about that, he'll be the first to go."

V didn't think that was likely—both Saeran and Saeyoung were intelligent and hard workers, and anyone who wasn't able to see that was truly foolish.

V didn't say any of that out loud, however. Instead, he smiled and said, "Thank you, Saeran. I'm interested in meeting her, so your help is much appreciated."

"I'm coming too!" Saeyoung declared, striking a dramatic pose. "God Saeyoung must greet every pilgrim who enters his temple!"

Saeran rolled his eyes, though V was able to tell he was fighting the urge to smile. "Seriously, V. If you won't smack him, I will."

"Saeran!"


A newcomer might've considered the auditorium in the opera house to be very overwhelming, and they wouldn't be wrong: it was a large, brightly-decorated space with hundreds upon thousands of red-velvet seats facing a huge, elaborate stage, a crystal chandelier hanging from the golden ceiling. Even so, it wasn't too difficult to locate the new manager and the woman accompanying her, especially considering that they approached them first.

V became lost in thought during their trip (not helped by the twin's bickering), and he was still slightly out of it when he entered the auditorium. He was brought back to reality when he heard Saeran and Saeyoung's voices die down, accompanied soon after by a giggle coming from his right side.

"It's really beautiful in here, isn't it?" A light-hearted, yet unfamiliar voice said. "Why, when I first saw this auditorium, I almost fainted!"

V blinked and saw two smartly dressed brunettes standing to his right. One of them wore a huge smile and had her long hair in a braid, though her bangs fell in front of her face. The other woman had her hair cut short, and her honey-brown eyes were framed by a pair of spectacles.

V laughed awkwardly. "Oh, sorry! I wasn't really looking around; I was just...thinking." He paused, glancing at the two women curiously. "You don't look familiar… one of you is the new director, correct?"

The woman with the braid smiled brightly. "Yes, that would be me!" Based on her voice, she'd been the one that spoke to him before. "My name is Mademoiselle Chung. My companion next to me is Mademoiselle Kang, who's representing her employer today."

Mademoiselle Kang nodded. "How do you do." Her voice was quiet, yet laced with steel.

"How do you do?" V said, bowing slightly. "I'm V, a member of the backstage crew."

Mademoiselle Chung tilted her head. "V? What a unique name!" She nodded towards Saeyoung and Saeran. "And who might you be?"

Saeyoung grinned and puffed out his chest, seemingly recovered from his initial surprise. "I have gone by many names… but for now, I am Saeyoung Choi, man of great mystery and power!" He pointed to his brother, who looked supremely unimpressed by his theatrics. "And this, dear disciples, is the amazing, the intelligent—!"

"It's Saeran." Saeran said, ignoring Saeyoung's annoyed protest at being interrupted yet again. "Just Saeran."

"Ah!" Mademoiselle Chung laughed, and even Mademoiselle Kang smiled slightly. "It's wonderful to meet you, Saeyoung Choi and Just Saeran." Mademoiselle Chung turned to Mademoiselle Kang, lowering her voice a little. "See, Jaehee? There was nothing for your employer to worry about!"

V was curious as to what Mademoiselle Chung meant by that, but he wasn't sure whether it was appropriate for him to inquire further. Unfortunately, (or fortunately, perhaps), Saeyoung had no such scruples.

"Oh my!" He pretended to gasp. "Did Mademoiselle Kang's employer doubt the magnificence and beauty of this opera house?!"

Mademoiselle Kang shook her head. "No, nothing quite like that. My employer is somewhat...particular when it comes to certain matters." She shuddered slightly, as if recalling a horrible memory. "Really, he would've preferred to spend his money on something cat-related, but his father insisted on having him donate a large sum of money to this theater."

"Yes…" Mademoiselle Chung grimaced as well, but quickly brightened. "Still, I intend to put the money to good use! I brought Mademoiselle Kang today partly to have a second opinion on what ought to be renovated, and partly so that she could ease Monsieur Han's concerns."

That name struck V like a lightning bolt.

...Han? Han…

"Pardon me…" V said slowly, "but… is Jumin Han your employer, Mademoiselle Kang?"

Mademoiselle Kang nodded, though she didn't seem terribly surprised that he recognized the name. "Yes. It's not a secret, but many people tend to have an... odd reaction to his name being brought up, so I thought it best that—"

Memories came flooding back to V, drowning out the rest of Mademoiselle Kang's sentence. In his mind, he saw two boys sitting on a beach, their small hands clasped together as they watched seagulls dive into the ocean. One of those boys was a scrawny, lanky boy with floppy teal hair and a bright smile—in other words, V himself, though that was long before he went by that name. The boy beside him, while similar in frame and height, couldn't have been more different from his friend—his hair was dark and neatly combed, his clothes formal and freshly ironed. Even his too-serious expression was at odds with his friend's gap-toothed smile, and it was almost comical to see him watch the sea with such a contemplative look on his face.

Yet, V knew there was more to the boy that met the eye.

The dark haired boy started to speak. At first, V wasn't able to hear him, but after a few seconds of watching the boy's lips move, the words drifted through his ears with crystal-clear clarity.

"Everyone at my father's beach house is so dull… all they talk about is my father's money, always asking for favors and presents. My stepmother's holding another bridge game, and her friends are so loud and annoying… I hate being near them. I like it better here with you."

V saw the teal-haired boy's cheeks turn pink. The other boy continued to speak, ignorant of his friend's flustered state.

"I like being around you… Jihyun…"

CRASH!

The noise shattered V's memory like glass, quickly followed by a pained shout coming from the direction of the stage.

Although V was somewhat disoriented, he didn't hesitate to follow Saeyoung as he dashed towards the stage, Saeran and the two women trailing close behind. His eyes widened when he saw a figure in the orchestra pit struggling to stand, his shock growing when he was able to see who it was.

"Hyun?!"

Hyun Ryu—or, as he was more popularly known as, Zen—was the star of the opera house, and for a good reason. Critics and audiences alike considered him to be one of the best singers employed by the theater, and a combination of his dazzling good looks and his natural charm had the female population flocking to his performances. In other words, Zen wasn't just a triple threat—he was the reason for the theater's popularity in the first place, to the point where several of their shows only received revenue if Zen performed in them.

Zen turned his head towards V. The actor tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace if anything. "Hello—ah, dammit—uh, I seemed to have suffered a... minor fall, but it's really nothi—shit!"

The commotion caused the other employees in the auditorium to come running towards them, clamoring to see what was going on. A few stagehands entered the pit and attempted to help Zen stand, but it was all for naught; once Zen put pressure on his right foot, he hissed in pain, which caused Mademoiselle Kang to hurry into the pit as well. She knelt down and examined his ankle quickly, her lips pressing into a thin line.

"It seems to be twisted." She said grimly. "Did you fall off the stage?"

"I guess so…" Zen's eyebrows furrowed. "It was… strange, though. I was practicing some of my dance moves—you know, just to brush up on them—and I was doing perfectly fine at first. But when I got towards the edge of the stage, it felt… slippery. Kind of like someone had put grease on it… but I have no idea who! There wasn't anyone up on the stage when I got on!"

Everyone started talking at once.

"Well, it wasn't the stage crew! None of us were scheduled to do anything like that today!"

"How awful! How will we perform without Zen?"

"What if Zenny had hurt his face?! Oh, that's too terrible to even think about!"

There was one sentence, however, that made V's blood chill; it started out as a mere whisper, but grew to a crescendo as it was passed on to more people.

"The phantom…the phantom! This is her doing!"

Mademoiselle Chung looked up sharply. "The… phantom?" She asked, baffled.

There was an awkward pause, which was broken by Saeyoung stepping forward with a forced smile.

"You see, Mademoiselle," He said grandly, "There are, er… rumors of a phantom that supposedly resides in this very theater! According to, uh… certain characters, she is usually quite docile, but has a habit of causing… ghostly mischief if someone displeases her. But, again, these are mere tall tales! Although—"

Monsieur Nolan laughed nervously, interrupting Saeyoung's explanation.

"Heavens, Monsieur Choi! Don't frighten Mademoiselle Chung with your ghost stories!" He turned to Mademoiselle Chung with a fake smile plastered on his face. "I'm afraid my workers have… active imaginations, Mademoiselle. I can assure you, however, that there is nothing supernatural going on in this theater—an intelligent woman such as yourself can surely understand that these things do happen!"

Despite his claims, Monsieur Nolan backed away slowly.

"And on that note, Mademoiselle, I leave this opera house in your capable hands! If you need me, I'll be in Korea."

He ran off without another word, clearly relieved that the current situation wasn't his problem anymore.

Mademoiselle Chung muttered something under her breath before turning to Zen. "I'm sorry, Zen. I'm not sure if you should be performing tonight. It'd probably be better if you took it easy for a while…"

There were several cries of protests, the loudest one coming from Zen himself. "With all due respect, Mademoiselle, I heal very quickly! I'm sure that if you give it a few hours—!"

"That won't be enough." Mademoiselle Kang said; despite that, she looked truly upset. "While I… deeply admire your commitment to your craft, Monsieur Zen, I doubt that your ankle will feel better by the time the show starts tonight. If you wish, I can get a doctor for you. It's the absolute least I can do."

There was a pause before Zen sighed. V grimaced at the sound; he knew how much Zen's career meant to him, and he regretted that he hadn't checked the stage before he left with Saeyoung and Saeran.

"Yes, I… I understand. Thank you, Mademoiselle Kang."

The crowd of people backed away, giving Zen and his helpers enough room to get through. V caught a glimpse of Saeyoung and Saeran's somber expressions, and he was well-aware that his face probably reflected similar feelings.

Once Zen was out of earshot, Mademoiselle Chung began to speak again.

"Well… what can we do?" She asked. "It's not like we can cancel the show at the last minute. Does Zen have an understudy?"

An awkward silence fell across the employees.

Mademoiselle Chung grimaced. "... Seriously? He doesn't have an understudy?"

"I'm afraid not," Mademoiselle Kang spoke up. "Monsieur Zen takes his job very seriously, mademoiselle. His work ethic is impeccable, and he rarely, if ever, misses a performance—in other words, there's no reason for him to have an understudy."

"Er…" Mademoiselle Chung blinked. "Thank you, Mademoiselle Kang, but how did you know all that?"

Mademoiselle Kang coughed slightly, blushing. "I, well… perhaps I have a habit of collecting Zen's newspaper interviews…"

Saeyoung cleared his throat to cover up a snicker.

"Okay…" Mademoiselle Chung rubbed her forehead. "So, he doesn't have an understudy. Is there at least someone here who can sing his part?"

There was another pause. Than…

"Oh, I know!"

V turned to Saeyoung, who was beaming as brightly as ever.

"Mademoiselle Chung! V can sing Zen's part!"

V's jaw dropped. He wasn't the only one shocked by Saeyoung's claim; everyone else displayed similar surprised reactions, either through their facial expressions or through loud exclamations.

"What the hell, Saeyoung?!" Saeran said as he glared at his twin.

"It's true!" Saeyoung insisted. "I hear him sing during work sometimes, and I know for a fact that he stays overtime to practice his singing! He's really good, and I think he'd be perfect in Zen's role!"

V turned bright red. That's right—Saeyoung and Saeran lived in the opera house, so it was possible Saeyoung had heard him with his...tutor. "Er… I don't know if I'm that good…"

Mademoiselle Chung bit her lip. "It's a tempting offer, but…"

"E-excuse me!" A nervous voice piped up from behind them. V turned his head, surprised.

"...Yoosung?"

Sure enough, it was Yoosung who spoke up. The young man turned bright red when he noticed everyone's eyes on him.

Yoosung Kim was a member of the opera house's choir. He had been hired a year and a half ago, and while he proved to be a sociable and friendly young man, he tended to be very hostile towards V, much to the man's bewilderment—no matter how hard he racked his brain, he couldn't remember meeting Yoosung outside of the opera house.

"Uhh… I can back up what Saeyoung said." Yoosung said, shifting nervously. "V… V, uh, he's been practicing really hard lately, and he's really well-trained. So… I mean, you don't have to give him the part, but…"

V's mind was racing. How did he know?!

"Well!" Mademoiselle Chung said, her voice trying to regain its former cheer. "It seems like you have several people who think you can fill Zen's role! How about you demonstrate for us, V?"

"Er… I suppose I will." V said slowly. He took a deep breath, and for a moment, he swore that he was able to feel something staring at him from far away.

A sentence floated through his mind.

Sing, my angel of music…!

So he did.


Jumin Han was not sulking. Sulking was something that children did, and he wasn't a child anymore. No, he was merely sitting in his seat in one of the balconies, glaring at his lap because of course his father's mistress had insisted on attending the opera during the night he was supposed to spend time with his darling Elizabeth the 3rd.

"Oh Jumin, I know you'll love this!" His father's mistress had insisted in a high-pitched, sickeningly sweet voice. "This production has a wonderful leading man—his name is Zen, and all of the newspapers are absolutely raving about him! Besides, you and your father gave the theater such a generous donation. Wouldn't you feel better about your decision if you saw how wonderful opera really is?"

She had neglected to mention that they only made such a generous donation because she had begged his father to do so, who had begged Jumin to donate something as well. Besides, the "wonderful leading man" she had so looked forward to seeing wasn't performing that night—instead, his part would be played by some singer absolutely no one heard of before, much to her disappointment.

V. Surely, that had to be a stage name. Even a commoner wouldn't be foolish enough to name their child that.

Jumin stared at his brooch, a small portrait of his beautiful Elizabeth's face embedded in the middle. He hadn't been paying any attention to the story unfolding onstage, though he recalled Assistant Kang telling him that it was about a huntress who fell in love with a phoenix. The singer playing the huntress was objectively good, but it was merely background noise to him—he had no interest in actually watching the performance itself.

That was before he heard him.

"Think of me, think of me fondly, when we've said goodbye… Remember me, once in a while, please promise me you'll try..."

Jumin froze, taken aback by how… familiar that voice was. But how could it be? Surely, none of the singers in the production were acquainted with him…

Curiosity finally piqued, Jumin glanced at the stage. The singer emerged from behind the brightly-painted trees and Jumin was almost blinded by how his golden outfit shimmered under the spotlight, the light turning his feather cape into a kaleidoscope of red, orange, and yellow. Based on the garments he wore, he was playing the phoenix in this production; however, the man's (achingly familiar) teal hair suggested he'd be more suited for a role of a water nymph, his long bangs cascading over his left eye like a waterfall.

As Jumin took in the singer's appearance, he continued to sing. The baritone voice echoed throughout the auditorium, casting a spell on his captivated audience.

"When you find that once again you long to take your heart back and be free…" The man held his arms out towards the audience, as if he was silently pleading with them; for whatever reason, Jumin felt as though that gesture was directed at him specifically. "If you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me…"

He lifted his head and smiled, and Jumin's mouth grew dry.

That smile…

Jumin's father gasped and elbowed his side.

"Jumin... Son, is that…?"

Jumin couldn't find the words to answer. Taking his silence as a response, his father chuckled as he continued to watch the singer.

"It is, isn't it! Why, it's little Jihyun!"

For it was Jihyun—taller and more mature, certainly, but it was undeniably him. Scraps of memories flickered through Jumin's mind, and his grip on the brooch grew tighter.

They first met each other as children on the beach. Both of their families owned houses near the ocean, and naturally, the two boys ran across each other while taking walks upon the sandbar. Jumin had been trying to escape his father's swarm of mistresses and false friends; Jihyun, meanwhile, had wandered away from his house to comb the beach for treasure, and he had invited Jumin to accompany him. The two boys became fast friends, and it soon became almost impossible to separate them. If Jihyun's nanny searched for her ward, she'd find him in the ocean with Jumin; likewise, if one of Jumin's servants went looking for him, they'd find him building sandcastles with Jihyun. It was, in Jumin's opinion, the perfect friendship between two lonely, rich boys who sought solace with each other, and for that reason, summer quickly became their favorite season in the year.

But then they grew older; their busy personal lives soon replaced childish recreational activities, and they hadn't seen each other in person for years. Their last face to face meeting had been at least two or three years ago, and while Jumin had certainly noticed that his friend was a handsome man (and that thought caused a brief flutter in Jumin's heart), he'd been unaware that Jihyun was capable of transforming into a completely different creature. He was no longer a skinny boy at the beach, or an attractive, but quiet, young man—instead, he was like the phoenix he was playing, beautiful and shining as brightly as the golden feathers sewn to his costume, voice belting out a bewitching aria almost effortlessly.

"We never said "our love was evergreen" or "as unchanging as the sea…""

As Jihyun reached the end of his song, Jumin couldn't help but wonder if his old friend remembered him. It would make sense if he didn't; Jihyun had always been a charming, gentle boy, the type of child who could make friends easily, a skill Jumin lacked. If that was the case, Jihyun surely wouldn't recognize the boy he was childhood friends with…

For whatever reason, that thought sent a painful pang through Jumin's chest. Surprised, he pressed his hand over his heart, letting out a tiny smile when he felt the organ thump rapidly.

Ah. So Jihyun still had that effect on him.

His old friend's song finished far too soon. Jumin briefly entertained the notion of calling for an encore, but he wisely held his tongue. However, once the audience began to roar with applause, Jumin didn't hesitate to join in.

"Bravo! Bravo!" He cried, though his voice was drowned out by many others like it.

Even if Jihyun doesn't remember me… I can never forget him.