AN: Guess who's putting off studying to post this chapter! :D
TBH, I'm not 100% pleased with this chapter-it feels kinda like filler to me, even though a bunch of important stuff happens in it. Still, I feel like I did the best that I could under the circumstances.
Notes:
* YEAH YOOSUNG, HOW DOES IT FEEL TO HAVE A SECRET YOU CAN'T TELL ANYONE. IT SUCKS DOESN'T IT.
* Readers familiar with the musical may notice that I made the Raoul character warier about the whole "using my partner as bait to lure out their creepy stalker" plan. That was intentional: considering the events of his own route, I honestly can't see Jumin EVER being okay with that kind of plan.
* Same thing applies to V- considering how self-sacrificing he is, it'd be weirder if he DIDN'T go along with it.
* It might take a while for the next chapters to come out (and yes, it's possible for updates to become even slower than they already are). That's because this is the last chapter I pre-wrote before publishing, so I'm gonna have to write the next few chapters from scratch. But on the bright side, a lot of juicy drama happens in those chapters, so stay tuned!
Twisted every way, what answer can I give?
Am I to risk my life to win the chance to live?
On the morning after the ball, Coachman Kim drove both V and Jumin to the opera house. The two men disembarked from the carriage solemnly, their faces grim and worn with exhaustion; neither of them had slept well the night before. V only half-listened to Jumin's hushed conversation with Coachman Kim as he gazed at the building.
He hadn't wanted to go to work that day—the spectacle from the night before gave credence to his greatest fear, putting it on display in a grotesque circus for all to see. When the morning finally came, V's fear of the Phantom's wrath was his sole motivation for going to work, and Jumin, of course, insisted on accompanying him. Unfortunately, even Jumin's presence hadn't been enough to soothe V's heart; it only reminded V of the horrid fate the phantom had in store for him.
V's hand crept up to his chest and clutched at air. He vaguely heard Jumin talking to him, but it took a moment for him to respond.
"What?" He asked softly, not bothering to look up.
Jumin sighed and wrapped his arm around V's shoulders. V leaned into his touch, briefly indulging in the warmth his beau provided.
"I said that you have no obligation to go to work today," Jumin said. He spoke in an uncharacteristically gentle voice. "Surely, Mademoiselle Chung will understand if you do not appear."
V's lips quirked into a smile. "Are you, Jumin Han, telling me not to go to work? I should record this occasion."
"Jihyun." Jumin's expression was grave. V sighed and gave Jumin a quick kiss on the cheek.
"I'll be fine, Jumin," V reassured Jumin, shoving his fears aside for the moment. "So long as you stay by my side."
When Jumin and V entered Mademoiselle Chung's office, they found the manager slamming the composition book onto her desk.
"This is insane!" Mademoiselle Chung groaned, tugging her bangs in agitation. "We have a week to rehearse this monstrosity! A week!"
She stood up and began pacing back and forth. Alarmed, V shot her a worried look before he hurried over to the other two occupants of the room, who were bent over another piece of paper and talking amongst themselves.
"Saeyoung? Saeran?" He muttered. "How long has she been like this?"
"Does it look like I have a watch?" Saeran grumbled. His head snapped up to look at V, and V saw the black rings underneath his eyes. "She's been freaking out all morning. Not that I can blame her, though-have you seen all the shit the Phantom wants in her damn opera?!" He pointed at the paper Saeyoung was skimming over. "That's only the first page! Why the hell does that bitch need ten pages to describe the scenery?!"
"Will you knock it off!?" Saeyoung hissed, still looking at the paper in his hands. "I need a moment to process this, and I don't need anyone acting like a kid!"
"Oh, that's rich, coming from someone who already acts like an overgrown five-year-old—!"
V sighed and rubbed his face, too tired to deal with their bickering so early in the day. He glanced over at Jumin, wordlessly begging for his assistance.
"Saeran, Saeyoung, that's enough," Jumin said, quickly adopting a professional, business-like tone. "I presume that Mademoiselle Chung plans on following the instructions to the letter?"
There was an awkward pause.
"You're gonna have to ask her yourself," Saeyoung replied, not meeting their eyes. V blinked in confusion and turned to Mademoiselle Chung, who sat behind her desk with her head buried in her hands.
"Mademoiselle Chung?" He asked gently. The manager lifted her head and grunted in acknowledgment. "I'm sorry to bother you, but… are you going to follow the Phantom's instructions?"
Mademoiselle Chung sighed. "Yes. I have no choice, do I?"
V felt a sense of cautious relief flood him. "Ah. Alright. I feel terribly guilty about making the other crew members work so hard, but I suppose I can try to do the bulk of the—"
"What are you talking about, V?" Mademoiselle Chung interrupted, grimacing soon afterward. "Sorry, that sounded too harsh. But… you do realize you're not going to be working backstage, right?"
V froze at her words. "... What?"
Mademoiselle Chung sighed. "I hate to be the one to tell you this, but… V, you're going to be onstage. The…" She made a face. "... Phantom made it very clear that she wanted you to play John the Baptist. In other words… you're the star of the show."
There was a long silence. V stared at her numbly, only barely processing Jumin's hand on his shoulder.
Of course. He should've known the Phantom wanted him to play the main role. Wasn't that how he got them into this mess in the first place? Why was he naive enough to hope he wouldn't have to sing? Shouldn't he be relieved that he was the one playing the male lead and not someone else? Shouldn't he be happy that nobody else had to suffer the Phantom's rage?
"... Jihyun?" Jumin asked quietly.
V inhaled shakily, flinching when he saw the concerned expressions being directed his way. He hated it. He didn't want their pity—he didn't deserve it. Couldn't they see that they were the ones in danger, not him? Couldn't they see how stupid he had been to trust the Phantom? Couldn't they see that this whole mess was his fault?
Jumin's deep voice pierced through his inner tirade, his words bringing little comfort to V.
"With all due respect, Mademoiselle Chung, Jihyun would hardly be safe in such a situation. I cannot speak for Jihyun, but I'm certain that there's no way he'd be willing to put himself in danger like that—"
In any other context, V would've chuckled. Dear Jumin, always wanting him to stay away from anything that would cause him harm…
But how can I refuse the Phantom's orders?
Really, that was the crux of the issue. V knew it had to be a trap; after the Phantom's words the night before, there was no way the Phantom would allow him to walk freely among the public. But what other choice did he have? Any other decision marked a trail of pain and sorrow for everyone in the opera house—why damn them if he could offer himself as a willing sacrifice?
"Thank you for your concern, Jumin, but that won't be necessary," Gently, V took Jumin by the shoulder and drew him aside. "I've already made up my mind. Mademoiselle Chung, where can I find the scripts?"
Before Mademoiselle Chung could respond, he was hit with a flurry of resistance.
"V, you moron! Don't you know what you're agreeing to—?!"
"It's not worth it, V! Whatever you think will happen, it's not worth it—!"
"Jihyun, you can't be serious—!"
V held up a hand, instantly silencing Jumin, Saeyoung, and Saeran. He forced himself to smile.
"Believe me, I'm well aware of what I'm getting into," He said. "I don't make my decision lightly. But I refuse to allow any more deaths in this theater—not if I have a chance to prevent it."
"I as well," Mademoiselle Chung added, ignoring the glare Jumin directed at her. "And I promise, Monsieur Han and Monsieur Chois, that the theater will do its absolute best to protect V. I've already contacted the police department, and they're willing to send some of their best men to stand guard and secure the stage. If all goes according to plan…"
"Mademoiselle Chung," V flinched at Jumin's frosty tone, "I highly doubt this Phantom will follow your plan." He took a step forward. "Such an amateur set up is bound to get someone killed, or—"
Once Jumin was too close to Mademoiselle Chung, Saeran darted forward with a snarl and dragged the heir back. "Lay off her, Han. It's not like you're coming up with any genius plans, so shut up and leave her alone!"
Jumin shook Saeran off his arm, wrinkling his nose at his proximity. "I assure you, Monsieur Choi, that I intend to think of a much better plan than this foolish errand." He turned his gaze to V, pinning V with a sharp look that'd never been directed at him before. "If you wish to play the martyr, Monsieur V, then you must know that I will do everything in my power to stop you."
V had expected Jumin's ire. He hadn't been aware of how much it'd wound him, however.
"I'm aware, Monsieur Han," V responded. "I'd expect nothing less from you."
"You have to stop this, Rika!"
Rika paused her violin playing, the bow hovering over the strings like a cleaver. Silently, she stood in the middle of her lair, waiting for Yoosung to continue.
Yoosung gulped and gathered enough courage to speak. "Your opera—it's magnificent, it really is, but it's just too much to memorize in a week! The stage crew has to work overnight creating all-new props and backgrounds! Everyone in the orchestra is terrified of losing their jobs because you had Mademoiselle Chung fire the main bassoon player! You assigned high notes to the baritones and tenors, notes that you know they can't reach!" His heart thumped feverishly, giving him enough bravado to blurt out, "And—and I'm sick and tired of helping you sneak around this place! Last night, when you had me use that trapdoor… that was too much! I told you that I wouldn't help you hurt people, and you promised that you'd stop!"
Rika didn't respond at first; instead, she held her gaze aloft, staring at nothing and everything all at once. When she finally spoke, it was in a deceptively soft and gentle tone, the one Yoosung used to hear from her so long ago.
"Yoosung… I did promise you that. But don't you see, Yoosung, that they deserve it? Going against my orders like that… sabotaging my beloved Jihyun's singing career… conspiring against me… and that beast," She spat out that word like it left a foul taste in her mouth, "selfishly monopolizing my angel for himself… how can you say I'm in the wrong?"
"How can I… Rika, how can you say such things?! Weren't you the one who always told me to be compassionate and caring towards others?" Rika's shoulders tensed and immediately Yoosung regretted his words; what made him think that his cousin would take kindly to being compared to the beautiful, sweet woman she'd been in the past, a past she tried so hard to bury?
Slowly, Rika turned around. The mask typically on her face was gone, and Yoosung had to suppress a shudder at the unreadable expression she wore.
Truly, Yoosung thought, what made his cousin terrifying was not the injuries she bore, but the violent way her moods shifted; this made her near-unpredictable to approach, a fact that Yoosung learned many times the hard way, even years after Rika's adoptive mother—and by extension, Yoosung's aunt—wounded Rika so grievously.
"That stupid creature died a long time ago, Yoosung," Rika hissed. "And what makes you so concerned about my affairs? I could have sworn you despised my angel for taking your precious cousin away from you." The corners of her lips lifted into a sneer.
"I've never hated V, I hated how you obsessed over him—and still do! Rika, please come to your senses! I-I overheard the twins talking, and they mentioned something about policemen being at the opening performance—you have to stop this, Rika, before you get hurt!"
Once again, Rika said nothing. Yoosung could barely breathe as he waited for an answer, the only sound coming from the drip, drip of moisture rolling from the stone ceiling.
Then, Rika resumed playing her violin. The music warbled pitifully, as if sharing its mistress's pain.
"Let them come, Yoosung," She said quietly. "I've no need to fear those dimwitted fools."
"No, no, no, Juhyeok! That's not how you sing those notes!" Christa Kim, the choir conductor, dragged his hand down his face in exasperation. "Your pronunciation is entirely wrong!"
Juhyeok frowned and tried again, only to grimace when he hit a sour note. Monsieur Kim responded with a frustrated scream, and V winced at the noise, having been in the same boat as Juhyeok more times than he could count.
"Am I suddenly teaching a pack of shrieking schoolchildren?!" He complained loudly. "This piece is difficult enough as it is! We'll need the whole week to rehearse this one song alone!"
A chorus of groans greeted that statement. V couldn't blame them—the phantom's compositions were very ambitious, for lack of a better term, full of dips and high notes capable of straining even the most seasoned opera star. While the phantom's grueling lessons made him accustomed to her unique compositions, the other members of the chorus weren't so lucky.
"Hey!" A familiar voice called out. "His way's better—at least he makes this crap sound like music!"
A few other chorus members snickered at Zen's comment, which only seemed to enrage Monsieur Kim further.
"Watch your tongue, Monsieur Zen!" The conductor scolded. "What if the composer hears you insulting her music!?"
"With all due respect, Monsieur Kim," V could picture the irritated expression on Zen's face. "The composer isn't here! And even if she was here, she'd have to accept constructive criticism like the rest of us!"
There was a murmur of agreement from several other chorus members.
"That's enough—!" Once again, Monsieur Kim's sentence was quickly interrupted by Zen.
"Besides, don't you remember what the composer did to us?! I'm sorry, but I don't feel a lot of charity towards someone who sprained my ankle and strung a man up from the rafters! Hell, I don't even know why we haven't run her out yet—!"
At Zen's words, V's face grew pale. Turning his body around slightly, he frantically gestured for Zen to be silent. Zen, however, ignored his warning and continued to talk indignantly.
"I mean, she's only one woman! Why the hell are we sitting around on our asses for?! It can't be too hard to find—!"
CRASH!
Everyone jumped at the loud noise, a few shrieking for good measure. V snapped his head up to see a sandbag dangling above their heads, and if it hadn't been for the rope attaching it to the rafters, it would've doubtlessly fallen onto one of the chorus members.
"W-what…!" Dumbfounded, Monsieur Kim stared at the sight in front of him. "I-is this someone's idea of a prank? I swear, if it's one of those Choi boys—!"
He didn't finish his sentence; at that point, another item fell from the hole in the rafters, stopping inches away from Zen's face. The opera singer instinctively flinched back, narrowly avoiding the noose swinging in front of him.
The screams from the choir deafened V as he stared at the noose, the lasso framing Zen's shocked face like a morbid picture frame. Suddenly, V wasn't backstage rehearsing for an opera—instead, he was staring up at a disfigured body hanging from the rafters, numb and mute from horror as the opera house descended into chaos around him.
God no, god no, god no…!
V only became aware of his own screams once Zen stumbled backward with an unmanly shriek of his own. A few chorus boys unlucky enough to be standing behind Zen were knocked over, which only prompted more screaming and flailing from the panicked choir.
A cane was repeatedly struck against the floor. Everyone froze and turned their heads towards the conductor, who cleared his throat and re-adjusted his collar.
"R-right!" Monsieur Kim's voice was high-pitched with poorly-disguised fear. "I-I think that's quite enough practice for now, eh? After all, i-it's quite late!" Wiping away the sweat off his forehead, he turned his heel and hurried off, sheet music fluttering behind him.
Collectively, the chorus members all shot to their feet and dashed away, chattering and shaking like frightened children. V, on the other hand, was much slower to start moving. Instead, he went back to gazing at the noose dangling innocently, albeit mockingly, in the air.
V's heart started to pound.
No matter what I do… she'll always be there. Always watching….
Years ago, that thought would've been a comfort. Now, it was only a dark threat.
"V?"
V turned to see Zen staring at him, and once again, V grimaced at the pity he saw in his eyes. Still, V smiled, though judging by how Zen cringed at his expression, it wasn't very convincing.
"Uh, V… you don't look too good," Zen said, obviously trying to sound gentle. "Maybe you should lie down…"
"No, no. I'm fine." Those words came out of V's mouth automatically, and he paused to collect his thoughts. "Hyun… can you do me a favor?"
"Y-yeah, V. Anything."
"There's a cemetery a few blocks away from here. Can you tell Jumin that I'll be there?"
"W-what!?" Zen's already pale face turned as white as a sheet. "V, you're not—!"
"No, nothing like that," V shook his head but smiled despite himself. Really, underneath all of Zen's bluster and narcissism, he truly was a good man. "I'm don't plan on hurting myself, Hyun, so you don't have to worry."
He turned but paused.
"Just tell Jumin where I am. He'll understand why I'm there."